His steps are slow, careful, treading the ground like every moment traces a silent, invisible map in his head. His fingers curl into his palm (missing one finger on his right hand, barely a reminder of his past anymore), tense and relaxed, his breath escaping warmly to breathe in the colder air. He can feel it in his arms, behind his eyes - something is wrong with the cybernetic implants, like they were made dormant. His eyes can't focus as well, his arms don't carry the same lightweight sensation. Something was done to him, something beyond the obvious.

He doesn't like it.

It shouldn't be a good idea to walk out in the open like this, but he doesn't look too focused on the dangers around him. Whatever he's looking for - it seems to be one of those times where he'll only know it when he finds it.