We admit, we are rather fascinated by humankind. In all your tedium and mundanity, no two lives are ever quite the same. Perhaps you are destined for greatness. Perhaps cursed by mediocrity. Either way, you are inevitably tossed about by the hands of fate. And you are so very fun to watch.
Jordan “Hawk” N’kosi is a particularly entertaining example. It makes sense, we suppose. You don’t become a Grimrunner by being ordinary.
He isn’t the loudest among them, nor the most vicious. He doesn’t seem especially enamoured with glorious bloodshed, nor particularly seduced by the occult. It might be rather disappointing in other circumstances. Yet, somehow, he more than captures our interest.
Perhaps it’s the watchful eyes, or the deadly precision of his strikes. Perhaps it’s his military acumen or the nauseating devotion to kindness beneath. Perhaps it’s simply that he’s quite a looker, isn’t he?
Whatever the reason, do let us know when you meet him.
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Sentinel
Hawk doesn’t talk about it, but he always goes back after a run. Wherever we just cleared, a few days later, that’s where you’ll find him. I asked him why once. He said it was just his ritual.
Obviously, I got curious. What’s he even doing, pocketing relics? Cleaning up scraps? Or maybe he’s just brooding at the horizon, but either way, I wanted to know.
So I followed him one time. He was back in this rural settlement that got the crap kicked out of it during an attack. And you know what he was doing? Helping them rebuild their schoolhouse.
He didn’t even seem surprised when I popped up. Just tossed me a hammer and told me to make myself useful.
I watched him while we worked, because come on. Humanitarian efforts? No shot. Runners don’t do-good, we do-necessary.
He’d pause every so often, look up, scan the field, then get right back to work. I tried to follow his eyes, but it was just miles of sunny grassland. I mean, we’d just cleared this area. Safe as could be, thanks to our little team. Still, he kept looking.
He didn’t talk much, but he worked like a machine. It was funny—after a while, I started to get the appeal. It was hot and dusty and kinda boring, but the people were so kind and grateful. Hawk seemed to hate the attention though. I’ve never seen someone choke so hard just saying “you’re welcome.”
Near evening, this group of kids ran up to him, and that surprised me too, how gentle he was. Hawk’s so quiet and serious, but he crouched down to answer their questions and show them his gear. One kid asked him about the patterns on his sash, and my ears fully perked. He never talks about that.
He said it was from his home. His other trinkets were memories from the places he’d been and people he’d met. Made me wonder if he’d managed to save all of them.
Then, mid-conversation, Hawk straightened. “Everyone back to your homes,” he called. “Now.”
The locals took off instantly. Zero questions. Must be nice, having that kind of authority.
My head was on a swivel, scanning for threats. Once everyone was inside, I went over like, “Dude. What’s up?”
Hawk turned me toward the field. The birds just went quiet, he said. There was a smell on the wind, and over there the grass was bending the wrong way.
Jesus. I mean, I hadn’t noticed any of that. I’m like, “Hawk, man, grass bending wrong? We just cleaned this place out. We’re good.”
Hawk shrugged. “Usually you’re right,” he said, eyes never leaving the field. “I just help with the clean up and move on.” His hand slowly closed around the pouch he always wears. “Usually.”
I scoffed. Three seconds later, something tall stood up in the grass.
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Stay vigilant, Grimrunners,
— Studio Ellipsis Team