The Western side of town; Notorious for the criminal rate and the gangs ran rampant here.
Donovan, sporting a short sleeved black shirt would make his colorful and vibrant sleeve tattoos visible to any eyes that would lay upon them. This was paired with deep navy blue jeans and black boots.
It was obvious, his get-up would make him fit in down in this wretched part of town.
He thought for sure he'd feel awkward coming to a part of town like this, but it was reminiscent of his youth on the streets.
Having to wander on the concrete sidewalks, and asphalt of the streets just to survive.

This part of town reminded him of a place he used to frequent a lot back home.
Wandering into the run down slums, and seeing people yelling and waving their hands about, often with a weapon of sorts included in their grasp.
And of course, the drug addicts or alcoholics that were always high, or inebriated, or sometimes they cross faded.
These were the perfect targets to mug, especially if they were in a dark alley or secluded back way.
Donovan knew all the tricks of living in the slums and the streets.

Seeing as he had nothing else to do with his time, and nobody around her really cared what happened, he figured he'd go back to his roots for just a while. After all, he had some pent up need to harm someone. He didn't care if they were under the influence or not.
He just wanted that familiar high â€" That rush he used to get when he'd put the fear of death into the heart and eyes of a lesser being.
And seeing as he had the blood of a Cheetah flowing through him, he knew he could take anyone. Not to mention he knew exactly where to pinch nerves.

Though he had advantages, common sense would say he couldn't rule this roost. Donovan wasn't stupid enough to try and take territory. It was just like in the wild; A cheetah had to know which battles to take and which to flee from.
And though he loved a good rough and bloody brawl, he couldn't afford to wind up in the hospital over foolish choices. Plus, what wouldn't Elain to worry or scold him. Especially in her cheery and perky attitude.
And though she was a healer, he still didn't need her fussing over him doing something she would deem stupid.

After recalling memories, Donovan found himself strolling by a decrepit building that was decorated by green vines.
Thankfully they weren't poison ivy vines, at least one could hope that they weren't such a thing.
He was looking for a particular spot to go to, and he would walk a good block or two, before he would see it â€" An enclosed space that was shaped out by surrounding buildings.
It was the perfect squatting spot.
Making sure no one would pounce on him, he tuned his hearing briefly and sniffed the air.
"All clear.."
He said with a wicked snicker as he walked down the dark enclosure.

After passing the corridor, he say the perfect victim in front of his eyes; A drunken man that was perched against the wall and holding a bottle of scotch. He was giggling and talking to himself, and wearing what looked like rags. Donovan approached him, and wouldn't give him a chance to greet him like a normal human, he raised a knee into his gut and would take the wind out of the drunkard.
Then, he'd see the perfect nerve cluster present itself through his power pressure point-intuition.
With the speed of a bullet, his hand would clamp around the shoulder muscles and like the jaws of big cat, he pressed down and his victim was now out like a light.

"Such a shame. I hate having to hurt a handsome face like yours."
He'd say to the unconscious man, lifting him by his chin and observing his seemingly perfect face, as his other hand would rummage in the mans coat and find a huge wad of cash.
"Well well, looks like you were on the wrong side of town bud."