On his way, he sees an armored figure, kneeling besides a Corgi, stroking its fur. His armor was black, a worn black, on the verge of greying. It was covered with buttons, stickers, tick marks, and writings. 3 blades and a rifle laid on his back, a belt of multiple purposes looped his waist, a revolver on his right hip and a pistol on his left. The Corgis ears perked up and then turned its head towards Jackson. It tilted its head in a questioning manner. The figure looks at him too. "Deathstroke crawling out a Vertibird. That's something you don't see every day." He muttered to himself.