[attr="class","tbbody"]her shift ends.

marisa cracks her knuckles as she makes her way down the alleys, trying to avoid all human contact this late at night. she was just supposed to keep an eye on the warehouse until the next metahuman arrived to take over; as they did, comic told them she had seen absolutely nothing and kept going. there was that potential sighting of the horse-man, but it wasn't important. it never was. thinking about it was a bad omen.

she has hit one of the wider street/alleys, and pauses. theres something not right about the air; even this late at night, arkham had people out and about, and yet there is none. no one. the redhead pulls herself against the wall, eyes wandering about. something was going down, somewhere, and she wanted no part of it.