King's Row

"Sir?" The Talon grunt, Reaper'd forgotten his name, inquires. He makes no noise of motion of acknowledgment, save for turning his head slightly. The mask he wore shadowed his eyes completely, so the grunt was aware of his gaze, but left to imagine his mood.

"We're here. We entered London airspace ten minutes ago, we're just making preparations to land," the grunt says, heroically managing to keep from stuttering. It took courage to look upon the face of death without flinching afterall. He rises from his seat and crosses to the end of the cargo bay. The goon stays rooted to the spot. He extends a claw and presses the manual release trigger there. Alarms scream as the loading dock of the shuttle slowly extends.

Far below him London sprawls out, encompassing the whole of his view. There is the Thames and there, yes, there was the neighborhood he is looking for. King's Row. Someone down there was planning a robbery. Reaper smiles underneath his mask. He could've kissed the bastard. Turning to the stunned goon he raises a clawed fist in a wave, then steps backwards off the ramp.