There was no point in denying it, Walter really hated this city. Yes, he felt a loyalty to Eden that came simply from an accident of birth, but he still wanted to see most of it burn. He had been born here, grown up here, so of course he would rather see the place fixed than left to die, but a part of him did wonder if the world at large might be better served if the city was just quardoned off and bombed into oblivion. It was the sort of place where children were fair game, often targeted in the streets if they looked like they might have a well to do parentage. Indeed, this was the first time Walter had realised just how horrid the place was. He and his sister had been stopped by a solitary meth head, and although the guy was just skin and bone, he was still much bigger than the eight year old boy and twelve year old girl, not to mention the fact that he had a knife. Foolishly, the boy had thought to protect his older sister, earning a swift and jagged cut to his forehead - the scar from which he still bore. Needless to say, the far more sensible girl had dragged her brother off into the late afternoon sunlight, not stopping until they were back in the secure gates of their parents' property. After that, neither one of them had been allowed to roam even to the street corner on their own, for fear that what had happened once would happen again.
This incident had begun to shape the boy into what he would one day become, a man full of anger at the state of the world, and the tools to do something about it. He was not long out of the army, where he had served with the same zeal that he now employed in his police work. Of course, having only been serving for a couple of years in his home city, he hardly had the power to make any significant waves in the way the force tackled the chaos, but he had been assigned work just a few months ago that had the potential to be something big.
Going undercover in the criminal underbelly was not for the faint hearted, and it was the simple fact that Walter was so angry that he had been chosen for the job. This, coupled with his experience in keeping calm under pressure, as well as the fact that he had already killed, gave him the skills necessary to remain alive while he infiltrated one of the gangs that were becoming a real pain to the public. He posed as a dock worker, first making contact by simple means of a drug deal, followed by so sweetly playing accidental lookout when one member happened to be dealing with another employee just yards from an officer lurking round the corner. This had been his way in, and from there he had engaged in sideline activities, on the surface enjoying the larking company, inwardly seething.
Tonight he sat languidly upon a crate he was pretty sure was full of some sort of counterfeit goods, though he had yet to check all of them. In his hand was a warm and unpleasantly tangy beer, the other occupied in rolling a cigarette. He had lost count of which one he was on, though he doubted it really mattered. He was well on his way to cancer and hypertension, and holding back now seemed a bit pointless. In any case, there were far more important thinngs to do right now.
Lily arrived, bringing with her a state of alertness that had been sorely lacking up until this point. In response to her arrival, Walter discreetly pressed a hidden button in his shirt, masking the movement as a minor scratch. With the session now being recorded, he continued as usual, sticking to the sidelines as any newbie would do. He listened closely, waiting to gauge the reactions of others, and only really pitching in if he could not avoid it.
