MAY 23, Y110
Miranda's glorified prison of a village hadn't really prepared Heisenberg for any semblance of a world beyond. He wasn't oblivious to it, obviously. He'd suffered through Moreau's goddamn movies, and while the plots never did it for him, Heisenberg had been interested in the backdrop of each. He was interested in the sprawling urban landscapes that were shown on screen, and the busy streets, and the crowded sidewalks. He was interested in the giant trucks, and the giant towers. He'd been interested enough to bribe the Duke into smuggling him a few books about that sort of shit, but over the years, Heisenberg's interest had dwindled.
It was hard to be fascinated in a world he really didn't think he'd ever be able to see.
Pandora brought opportunity, but he still hadn't leapt at the opportunity. He'd gotten as far as snooping around Ark City, but that was just...
A lot. A lot of people, and sounds, and sights. Heisenberg had decided within hours that he was not ready to jump in with both feet like that. Pandopolis had seemed less... a lot. It was manageable, at least, with some stealthy teleportation to get him past the congested areas. Plus, there was apparently a decent, modern smithy in the area. A guy with an eye for weaponry, who Heisenberg had even heard of out in the Wastes.
He found the place eventually, but not without his fair share of issues. Pandopolis didn't seem like the kind of place that adhered to a map, and Heisenberg had only ever had to navigate his way around his factory, where he'd been milling around for seventy-odd years, or in the village. Maybe he'd occasionally wandered in the forests around the village, but that had hinged on Miranda's awareness, and she always seemed to know when he was thinking about meandering away. Stupid fucking bitch.
It took a few hours of leaping from shadow to shadow, avoiding the worst of the crowds, before he found the right spot, and Heisenberg wasn't subtle about the way he barreled into the door and immediately flipped the fucking lock, regardless of what the jackass who ran the place said. He planted his hammer on the floor (obviously he had taken the hammer. He wasn't exploring a brave new world without it) and breathed in deeply, feeling more frayed than he wanted to admit.
"Is that shit normal?" He thumbed over his shoulder, where the typical Sunday crowd continued to mill past the door. "There's got to be a thousand fucking people out there. God damn." He shook off his... disdain for the crowding, and ventured further in, expression still pinched. "Qrow Branwen, right? If not, I might have to kill you." Heisenberg wasn't sure if he was actually joking.
A murder would probably loosen him up a bit. Christ.