Quackity TCFSV

A veil of shadow was cast over the dim city lights, the distant glow of L’Manberg bleeding between the buildings. Quackity sat with one leg dangling over the fire escape railing, the other planted firmly against the metal beneath him.
For once, there was no job waiting for him. No business to handle, no deals to negotiate, no Syndicate business to meddle in. Just the cold night air and the quiet hum of the city below.
The Jester’s mask had been discarded somewhere inside his apartment, leaving Quackity in the face he rarely bothered to show anyone. His dark eyes stared distantly at the streets below, the scar cutting across his left eye standing out beneath the faint glow of the city.
He leaned his head back against the brick wall and closed his eyes for a moment.
Then—
Clang.
Quackity’s eyes snapped open.
A sneaker had landed against the metal stairs above him.
Someone was on the fire escape.
His expression shifted from tired to wary in an instant. Whoever it was had either made a very stupid mistake… or had come here knowing exactly whose apartment they were approaching.