Stryker takes off his left glove, and slaps the patch on the back of his hand. He sighs, and flexes his hand to speed up the patch working.
"I know these re bad for me, but still... We need to act. Give me a minute and ill scout the way ahead. Just remember, I'll be out cold while wandering the Manastreams."
He then pulls out his gun, straightens up, and sits back in the corner, to get better protection in case. His eyes focus on a non-existent spot, and his mind slowly leaves the body, to enter the realm of Living Magic. Surprisingly, his body still sits in the exact position he was a second ago...
His True form, made of swirling Mana shaped in a form roughly reminding his physical body, moving with unnerving speed begins to follow the red hot trails of slain beasts, still fresh, with small astral flames marking places where the Hellhounds used their fiery breaths... Scouting the way ahead with mere thoughts, he still cautiously searches the warehouse for signs of metahumans, other paracritters and magical security.