(Note: This is happening after everyone's cleared out =P) 

Cops rolled up, and soon the alley was swarmed with blue. Working in the pouring rain, they began to tape off the scene, file reports, and assess the damage. Paramedics were called in to give the official word: 6 bodies were pronounced dead on the scene. The downed power lines were cleared, and witnesses were being asked questions. It seemed obvious who was to blame here: mutants. The thought was on every officer's mind as they began to bag the bodies. 

A younger officer walked towards the sergeant, who wasn't happy about being drug out into the rain to investigate this mass murder. "Hey Sarge."
"Not now, rookie. I'm busy." The sergeant was trying to talk with one of the other officers about another murder than had taken place a few blocks away, an FBI agent being the victim. 
"But Sarge."
The sergeant let a huff and turned to the younger man sharply. "What is it?" He snapped. The younger officer jumped a little.
"It's just...weren't there six bodies, sir?" 

The sergeant looked up and over to where the bodies had been lined up to be bagged. The officers in charge of the body bags were looking around, confused expressions on their faces. 
"Son of a bitch." 

====================================== 

How had he gotten here? Better yet, [i]why[/i] was he here? Why was he wearing these weird clothes? ...Who was he? The man staggered down the street, rain soaking him to the bones. He shivered in the cold of the night. He was tired, hungry, and lost. The man paused as he got to the river walk and took off the weapons he had for whatever reason. He dumped them into the cold water, along with the black mask and soaking wet field coat he'd been wearing. With no idea where these things came from, he really didn't want to be seen wandering around in them. 

He kept on the thin, black under armor shirt he'd been wearing, along with the black cargo pants. The nameless man couldn't help but notice the strange glowing underneath the shirt, and pulled it up to investigate. He was startled to find a strange little device embedded in his chest, giving off the light. It made a couple soft [i]plink plinks[/i] as he tapped it curiously. The device made a constant, almost inaudible whirring noise; it was strange, but it almost comforted him. The man decided to leave it alone and pull his shirt back over it, but it [i]did[/i] look odd glowing through the wet, black fabric. 

[i]Cover it up[/i].

A little voice in the back of his head whispered. The man wasn't sure why the thought of hiding the device crossed his mind, but since he had nothing else to go on, he figured it was probably best to listen. The man put his hand over it to hide the light until he could find better clothes. He kept walking down the river walk, then took a turn down another street. He came across a church with a 'Salvation Army Donation drop-off box in back' sign posted near the road. The Salvation Army...that sounded familiar. They had...clothes? The man wandered back behind the church to find the promised box. It was a little white painted hut with a push open lid on the front of it. He pushed the flap and leaned inside to haul out a couple trash bags, then quickly slunk away with his prize. 

The nameless man wandered a bit more, looking for shelter from the cold rain. He found an abandoned shop a couple blocks away and managed to break inside. He pushed the door shut behind him and dropped the wet trash bags on the floor before undressing. His wet clothes made a plop as they hit the dirty concrete. He crouched as he tore open the trash bags and began rifling through them. One contained nothing but little girl and some older women's clothes. Once he'd determined this, he'd tossed it aside and hoped the other one was more promising. He got lucky.

The man pulled a pack of unopened boxers from the bag. He wasn't sure if he was a boxers or briefs kind of guy, as he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd chosen his own clothing. He...actually couldn't remember anything. After using a t-shirt to dry himself off with, the man tore the pack open and pulled a pair of boxers on. A little tight, but they fit. He managed to find a grey pair of sweatpants that fit him well enough, and a blue t-shirt that fit snuggly. He dug until he found a zip up hoodie with some band name he didn't recognize and pulled it on. He hadn't realized just how uncomfortable he'd been until he had clean, dry clothes on. It felt nice. For some reason, feeling nice didn't seem very familiar to him.

He slowly began to realize just how exhausted he was. What had he been doing before he woke up in that alley? There had been police everywhere, but he'd managed to slip away unseen as they went about their business. He'd been laying next to dead bodies. Had he been killed? He tried to remember, but it made his head hurt. The man decided that he'd try again later. He took the rest of the clothes and made a bed for himself off in the back corner of the building. He left his wet boots and socks over by his other clothes. The nameless man laid down on his makeshift nest and stared up at the ceiling for a long while. 

He was hungry. When was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't remember. There was a man. He was supposed to be looking for a man, but why? He couldn't remember. The guy was Asian, kind of short. The nameless man was sure he could pick the fellow out in a crowd if he saw him. He was...supposed to take the man somewhere. He couldn't remember where. 

The man turned over on his side, wondering why he couldn't fall asleep. He was so tired...but it felt...strange. Like he wasn't supposed to sleep this way. He remembered floating; the weightlessness was unmistakable. He turned over again until he was laying on his stomach. After another half hour of trudging through strange feelings and confusion, he drifted off into a restless sleep.