The sun rises on a new day, in the wee hours of the morning he comes, a lone rider consumed in his own solitude. He is covered head to toe in wintered military standard uniform. A Barret with a small scribble on it's hilt reading Betsy Hangs off of his shoulder. He lies prone, long ranged thermal binoculars pinpoint his destination.
"Thread located"
He states blandly into a headset hidden behind his hood.
"Approaching now"
The man steps forward with a solemn aura as he enters the thread, fifteen minutes have passed and he now wanders into it's warm embrace.
"Spambots eh?"
The man cracks his neck in a show of machoism.
"Sounds entertaining, count me in."
He then turns, departing as suddenly as he arrived. A single name can be read on the back of his jacket as he steps from the thread.
'Anri'