After the Gray Bomb dropping the city of New York had become troubled. The populous had been split between those who fear the people from Grayshire to people who question their government's actions. But no matter how you sided there was still the fact that it happened. The residents of Grayshire weren't meet with open arms. Though some could pass for normal and could get an apartment, many of the more obvious ones had trouble.

A handful had found a couple of abandoned buildings to live in. Some actually had family in New York, but anyone left ended up in the old metro. A handful of people do their best to keep people safe in the metro, or as they call it Haven, though people always have something to fear. being abandoned for about fifteen years. Many hoped they could hid there, but only time can tell if it will last.

In the business district of the city. People had begun to point fingers at the big companies. The one getting the most heat being JTechs. For years they have bragged about a formula that would be able to improve mankind, but they haven't given an official statement on the issue.

---

John had found a place deep within the old metro. Far enough to be left alone, but close enough to know if there was trouble. He stood in a barely lit room. Next to a wall a desk covered in papers, some of them falling onto the floor. Above the desk is a detailed map of the city, and small cot sits in the corner with a journal sitting on it. In the center of the room in another desk, but on this one sits a metal mask. The mask was made for him by a man who could manipulate metal.

John sat at the desk covered in papers. Most of the papers had information on people he suspected where involved with the Gray Bomb. the page he held was Daniel Moth, the CEO of JTechs. Recently Daniel had locked himself inside his penthouse on top of the JTechs building. The building had top of the line security so getting to Mr. Moth was going to be a challenge.

Sighing, John set down the page and stood. "Maybe I'm looking at this wrong." He said as be picked up his mask. Putting on the mask he went out into the tunnel to practice.

Elijah walked down the lonely streets of New York City, although there were hundreds people passing him, there wasn't a friendly face among them. He walked down the street towards his small one room apartment. He thought about what the man in the white mask had said on the screens in times square, he wondered how many gifted people would stand at his side, Elijah even thought about if he would stand with him or not. He wanted to live a normal life, but even if he tried he knew it could never be achieved, not with the way he is. The man in the white masked got cut off before he could go on but Elijah seemed to get the gist of what he was trying to say.

He arrived at his apartment. He pulled out the pair of keys from his pocket and put one of the keys in the lock. Before he could unlock the door and push through, a raspy voice beckoned from beside him, "You know the rules, rent is by the week....you're late." It was his landlord, the wrinkly women who owned the building. she was short and had hair the reached to her lower back, she was getting old but it was obvious she put time into her looks. A puff of smoke left her nostrils as she sat there waiting for an answer. "Well?" She persisted, changing her body position.

"I have it... I-I'll get the money to you by tomorrow...Promise." Elijah replied as he pushed through the door and walked down the disgusting hallway. He looked back at her as he walked. She whispered some words that no one could have heard, no one except Elijah. Her mouth moved to the words before he could hear them, "Stupid druggies, why do I always attract the weird ones..." Elijah felt angry with her, but he was helpless. He couldn't just shout at her, it would kill her, and now would be the worst time to step out of hiding. He kept walking until he hit his door, he walked inside and sat on the couch. He flipped on the tv and went straight to the news. Some stories about Grayshire, some stories about the economy, and the last story about a business called JTechs. Elijah sat and watched.

A muffled scream resonated amidst one of the narrow avenues between skyscrapers, filled with trash cans, where the light of the streets didn’t reach at night. Blood was dripping from the man’s thigh as a spike made out of a dark material was sticking out from the wound. He was pinned to a wall. “Last chance to tell me what you know. If you don’t I’ll have to kill you.” A calm voice said. The other person pinning the man to the wall was Lexx Reeve. “Oh god please, don’t ki- I swear I don’t know anything! I swear!” the man begged for his life. Lexx was standing in front of him with another dark object in his hand that had the vague shape of a very crude military knife, pointed at his face. The man was almost on the verge of crying. “Please . . .” he said in an almost whispered tone. Lexx merely stared at him a few more seconds before pushing off him violently. At the same time in a split second black dust took the shape of spikes above his shoulders which were then propelled forward. All of them just narrowly missing the man’s head, one even leaving a gash on his cheek. His message was clear. If he valued his life, he'd just forget what happened here. Lexx then turned around and disappeared in flash of light that was quickly obscured by a black mist which dissipated a few seconds later.

Lexx reappeared on the far side of the avenue a few meters away from where it linked with a main street. Another dead end, he thought as he began walking down the crowded street. Being one of the last trails he had it was also one that was likely to prove unfruitful. He was unsure of this individual’s involvement in the omega project so he was one of the few that didn’t die at his hands. Those he was sure about would end up as mangled bodies in rarely frequented, dark alleyways.

Maybe it’s time to track down the masked man.

He arrived at an abandoned building about 4 storeys high at the edge of the city. He walked up the stairs and through the hallways passing by abandoned rooms reaching the one he had claimed as his own. He turned on the light revealing a desk with a laptop, an old bed and a sticky board with various images and lines drawn between them. Among those images was also one of the masked man. Lexx stood in front of the sticky board.
So far he had tracked down four people involved with the omega project. Unfortunately they were only marginally involved with the project and Lexx couldn’t break them in order to reveal more information. Even marginal involvement was enough reason for Lexx to kill them in the end.
He had another good look at the image of the masked man. “He’s my last lead.” he said as he began walking towards the bed.

David stood on the roof of a tall building, looking out over the city. He had been lucky to find this place, as it was one of the few places in the city he found that he could focus. A place like New York City is constantly in flux, even in the best of times. David could feel so many different realities here, that it was nearly impossible to sift through them all. It left the whole city feeling unstable to him, as though one reality could give way to another at any moment. For some reason, though, this one building in particular seemed to be a constant in most realities. David had no idea why, but he didn't bother to look into it. This one place in the city was one of the few places he could focus enough to reflect.

He thought back to Grayshire. Not a day had past where he did not regret skipping town in the middle of the night. Of course, staying any longer would have gotten him killed. It didn't make leaving any easier, though. A few times he considered going back to see what was left, but he always decided against it. He had no way of knowing what awaited him there. Better to wait and play things out first. David put on his glasses, and looked out into the streets. Hiding his powers or no, he needed to learn how to filter his vision to not let it effect him. While he still couldn't identify different realities, he could catch glimpses of what could be and what might have been.

David heard voices. Someone was climbing to the roof. Reacting quickly, he pulled out a picture of his new apartment, and focused on it. He felt the world around him melt away, only to be replaced by his room. Exhausted, David threw off his stuff, and flopped on the bed. Resigning himself to dealing with this another day, he turned on the tv, and flipped to the news.

Ved
He was sitting with his back to an alleyway in New York, taking off the free wifi offered by the unsuspecting owners, and luckily for them he was using his own VPN, a virtual proxy network that scrambles and tunnels your IP address, and his was untraceable. His laptop glowed dimly, reflecting on his white mask as he shuffled his feet. The position he was in was more than a bit uncomfortable, having sat their for north of a few hours had truly taken it's toll on his lower half, numbing his entire ass, and sending a tingling sensation, as well as cramps, through his thighs. His hood was up, and the sun was low enough that people wouldn't notice Americas most infamous, and wanted, mutant stealing a middle class family's wifi to attempt and discover who had cut off his live stream.

He was a master hacker, one of the best in the world, even without his powers advancing him into a tier of hacktivist occupied by a single being, himself. Before he had been mutated, and wiped clean off of any official or non records, he had been hired by multiple small to medium sized business for security networking, and had made enough money to purchase components to make his current laptop. Running on a processor so strong and fast it wasn't considered 'consumer friendly,' and therefore not available on any form of public market. So the fact that someone was able to find one of the several loops he left behind, intentionally, was downright astonishing. No matter what he did, he left ways to shut himself down, to level the playing field so to speak.

Unsatisfied with the discoveries mad so far, he decided to resume a small trail of crumbs he had been working on. A way to reach out to other mutants, he had decided to place advertisements that would be noticeable only by people who knew how to look. An Icon he had left spray-painted on every major building, grocery store, and outlet mall in Grayshire. Something you wouldn't have recognized unless you had lived there prior to the bombings. If clicked, the advertisment would send you to an anonymous chatroom, in which he would ask you a few simple questions, and if he was pleased with your answers, would set up a way to meet you, given that you lived within a few hours of him.

Jessica sat at her desk in her apartment and went over what had happened in Greyshire as she played with a small ball of energy in her hands. Someone had to have both financed and provided materials to the terrorists behind the bomb and why did the government send black ops in to shut everyone up? The whole thing drove her crazy but as she looked up at her wallclock she realised it was time for her to go and practice before her nightly patrol.

Changing in her basic costume, a black catsuit and eyemask she made her way to the roof of her apartment building where she had set up an obstacle course and some targets. Her military training gave her the hand to hand and shooting skills she needed but her gymnastics and powers still need work. After a around an hour of falling on her rear end and target practice with her powers she prepared herself for her mission tonight. Jumping to the next roof she began to think.

"What happened to me and why did my old bosses want it covered it up?" It was then an alarm began to ring. "Showtime" she said to herself checking her gun before heading off in it's direction.

After leaving Grayshire abruptly, Amelia's funds had quickly been down to the bills she'd shoved in her wallet before leaving for the grocery store. She had no intention of using her bank account, rendering her cards useless, wary of leaving any sort of trail for the team that had come to silence her hometown to follow. Fortunately, New York City was a big place, and Amelia had found a building somewhere on the east side of Manhattan where the landlord was more wrapped up in his "other" business than his ownership of the apartments. There were plenty of shady people there, but rent was cheap, and she could deal with the damp and drafty conditions because at least it was a roof over her head. She'd already managed to get hired busing tables at a small bar that had seen better days, but it was money in her pocket and they hadn't asked a whole lot of questions.

One of the two small televisions tucked into the corners of the bar for patrons to watch was turned to the news, and as she wiped down the empty tables, Amelia struggled not to cringe as Grayshire was brought up - again. Taking the entire town off the map had been labeled as a second terrorist strike, combated by the military, and that the "loss of life was devastating, an entire town undeserving of its fate". She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry at the stories circulating about her home, but she knew that not everyone in the state was sympathetic to Grayshire and its survivors, her gaudily painted nails a testament to that. Too many questions about why they were long and why they were sharp had her purchasing the most obnoxious shade of blue she could find and painting her nails, even sticking on those rhinestones they sold for decorating nails. After that, at least, the questions had stopped.

Clips she'd watched earlier that day about JTechs and their possible roles in recent happenings played next, and Amelia struggled to tune out what was already becoming old news. The televisions left her ears ringing constantly while she was on the floor, and she happily swept up glasses left behind to take to the back to be cleaned up. Busing tables wasn't that bad, aside from the care she had to take to not scratch up the tableware or even the wooden tables. At the very least, she figured she had a way to defend herself if someone got the bright idea to try and mug her.

The following day Lexx was at the train station. He wore his typical trench coat but this time he had a hoodie underneath, the hood covering most of his face. He observed as people went on with their own lives, while his was practically on hold. As he sat there he recalled how his life was before the event that changed his life. He used to live with his younger sister in Grayshire working as a system administrator for a small company there. His father had been part of the Marine Corps and had died under unknown circumstances sixteen years ago. Or at least unknown to him. And his mother had died of cancer a few years later and as such his sister was the only family he had left. In the end she had to be taken away from him as well in Gray Bomb dropping.

Lexx’s resolve was faltering. He didn’t think he was ready to return to his hometown. Unfortunately he had no choice. He was out of leads. The only place remaining where he could pick up a trail was his hometown. Or what remained of it after the bombing and the intervention of the military.

Hours later he was back in the town that changed his life. Since trains didn’t stop there anymore he had to go to the nearest town and walk the rest of the way. He considered visiting the remains of his parents' house but he decided against it. Being back here in the town was hard enough. He wasn’t ready for that just yet.

As he walked down the deserted streets he occasionally checked his phone. Surprisingly, the Wi-fi of one of the larger stores that had Wi-fi at all still worked. His mind flashed back to how often he went there to pick up groceries with his sister. Being here once again reminded him of his former life and made him cringe. He found a bench opposite of the store to sit down and took out his laptop, scrolling through the news as he considered what his next move should be. In the process he came across the news about JTech and it’s CEO, Daniel Moth. His eyes widened. That’s my next lead, Lexx thought. He began regretting the fact that he had returned here as in the end it didn’t provide any further clues.

“Coming here was a mis-“, he cut himself off as he looked up at the store and noticed a strange symbol that had not been there before. Or at least Lexx thought it hadn't been there before, but he wasn't sure. Once again his mind flashed back to the times he came here with his sister. This time he focused harder on trying to remember every detail about the store. Instead he was reminded of his sister even more and he could feel his chest tighten. “Damn it. Focus.”, he clenched his fist and closed his eyes.

That sign. It was not there before. He was now sure of it. And furthermore, it was familiar to him. “I’ve seen this somewhere before.”, he mumbled to himself. His attention snapped back to his laptop and he began opening various pages that were still in his browsing history. “There it is.”, he said as one of the sites had an add which contained a symbol identical to the one on the building. He clicked it and a new window popped open which lead him to a chatroom. Besides the randomly generated name that was assigned to Lexx there was only one more name in the online users list . . .

Ved
A messaged popped upon his laptop, and he immediately opened it, finding that someone had triggered his ad system. He quickly forced the opposite computer to download, install, and operate his personal VPN, making both ends of the communication completely secure. He routed a one way camera, viewing the person on the opposite end. After several seconds, he was satisfied that the man was not FBI, nor anyone from a private sector looking to chase him down and hire/force him into working for them. The man looked to be dirty, and young, which was a very good way to suggest that they originated from Grayshire, but he would still run them through a basic questionnaire.

[Hello.]

The single word appeared on the man's screen, in the small white box that provided the chatroom, above the message was the Hacktivists "superhero" name, his nickname to be exact. :\\Ved.mhmn. It was a very simple chat client, using a direct IP communication, causing the computers to talk to each-other directly, through Ved's own private network. That way they could contact each other at any point in time, even if they weren't connected to a Wifi network. While he waited for a reply, he quickly traced down the location of the man, and to his surprise, he was GPS'd in Grayshire. He put his hand on the corner of the laptop screen, using his powers to identify anything and everything this man had ever done in the virtual realm, his realm. His eyes glassed over with a strange blue color, and glowled lightly through his mask as he began to absorb the cyber-existence of this man.

John started to breath heavily as he concentrated on the targets before him. Five Glas bottles sat at different levels. He forced the bottles to shoot them up into the air. Johnn waits for a moment. As the bottles begin to fall Johnn's shoots out into five branches. He forces it to catch them. Pieces of glass fall to the ground. He had crushed one of them on accident. Cussing under his breath, he looked an alarm clock he had set up close by. "6:30, it's almost night," He sighed then drank a water bottle. Setting off towards the surface.

Climbing out of an emergency subway exit that opened up into a back ally. The sun had just set, and the sky was clear of clouds. John set off towards a man who had been giving him information on JTechs. Apparently his brother was the vise president of the company, and is having second thoughts about the company's current involvements.

Sticking to the darker places of the streets, making his way towards one the abandoned buildings that seem to inhabit this area.

David turned off his tv, and threw his remote, pissed off. Yet another piece about Grayshire and how it was a "great American tragedy". Right. While he blended in with the crowds of New York well enough, minus his occasional visions, he heard what people thought of the survivors. People thought they were freaks. To be honest, he wasn't sure if they were wrong. David didn't find being aware of the multitude of realities to be much of an upside, at least as long as he could barely perceive it.

David swung his legs off of the bed. Enough was enough. He needed to see what happened to Grayshire first hand. He had darted around it long enough. It wasn't like the trip would be long for him. There would likely be no one their, so it wasn't like he could rationalize away from it with his social anxiety. And if things got bad, he could always teleport back to his apartment. Or anywhere else that was safe, for that matter. David gathered his things together, and put his glasses on. Thinking of home was painful, but he needed to know what happened. He thought of the small coffee shop he used to frequent, and teleported to it.

Upon arrival, David immediately began to feel nauseous. Another vision flashed over him. It was mostly a blur, but one thing was clear. If he didn't go back immediately, his projected future would be irrevocably shifted. Slowly getting back on his feet, David finally got a good look around. What he saw was horrifying. The town where he had been born and raised was a mess. David had known it was bad, but he hadn't been around to see what happened after the military arrived. David began to slowly walk through the town, appalled at what was left of his home.

Coming to a corner, David came to the big grocery store. Surprisingly, it was still mostly intact. He was about to get a closer look when he froze in place. There, on a bench across from the store, was a hooded figure in a trench coat. Whatever he was doing on his laptop, though, it seemed like it caused the man to not notice him yet. David began to slowly go back around the corner he came from. However, just when he made it back around, his phone went off. David managed to keep down a swear, and dropped to a crouch. Thinking quickly, he silently teleported behind the register counter in the grocery store, and dropped prone.

The news is terrible. No matter what time you check in on it, they always seem to find a way to show you the most gruesome things while they subliminally influence you. The Grayshire bombing was a prime example of this. The reporters throwing around words like "Tragedy" and "Horrific" while they use contrasting words in the same report, like "American" and "Rejoice". It all to confusing, yet all to familiar. They convince you to feel a certain way, and have a certain outlook on things. This kind of power is easily looked over by the public. It's part of the reason why people look down on the survivors, pity them. resent them. "How could they do this?" Elijah questioned, speaking to himself as he stood up from the couch in his living room. "Th-Th-These news reports...Terrorists attacked us, how are we the bad guys?" He was starting to get a little to heated, nothing good was going to come of it.

Elijah took a deep breath and closed his eyes,"I guess they're just doing their job..." He whispered, reasoning with himself as if he needed to say it out loud to have any affect. Elijah opened his eyes again, and the site of his crummy apartment engulfed him. He hated it here. The carpet had stains that looked older than he was and the awkward green color made the carpet look like it was molding. The walls were no better. The "white" walls were dingy and stained by the numerous amount of occupants who smoked here. Elijah felt sick to his stomach; he needed some air.

The walk through the apartment was like walking through a motel 6, afraid to touch the walls in case he happened to feel something wet. He made it to the roof and opened the door, the fresh air hit him like a freight train. He looked out to the city wide eyed, taking in all the lights and noises of New York City. The big apple seemed quieter this particular night, it was a foreign feeling to Elijah. A feeling that he hadn't felt since the bombing, the strange chill up his spine was enough of a motivator to change the silence. He perched his lips as he began to whistle, his power made the whistle extremely high pitched, to high to be heard by a human. The dogs in his neighborhood heard his whistle and responded with their own voices, all joining the unorthodox symphony that somehow delighted Elijah. All the dogs were barking now, making this quiet night less so. He stood there, in the midst of the barking; Elijah may very well have found his "Happy place", a place needed in times like these.

Looking down into the street Jessica saw a man carrying a bag full of cash running from a jewellers that he had clearly just robbed. Checking her gun, she made her way down the building making sure that she landed in front of him. The man stopped for a second before dropping the bag and taking a swing at her, sighing Jessica ducked under the shot and hit him in the stomach. The man came at her again and ducking under his swing he charged her hand and tased him with energy she had drained from a nearby street light.

Handing the thief and the cash over to a recently arrived patrol car, Jessica realised she had attracted a sizeable crowd that included a local news crew. As the reporter droned on about Greyshire and whether Jessica was the dawn of an age of "Superheroes" she took this opportunity to leave as she had other places to be. She had noticed a symbol on a nearby building and after photographing it with her phone wanted to investigate it further.

Lexx was decent with computers, but Ved was clearly in completely different league. Figuring out what Lexx had done in the past few months would be childs play for him. What was most interesting is that he was only able to track down his activities up to a few months ago. Just after the Gray Bomb Dropping. What he had done before was a mystery since all his belongings including his old PC had been destroyed or left in Grayshire. He knew as much as how to make his past activities untraceable, since then making sure to only create new accounts with completely different usernames. A fresh start in cyberspace. And he had to, in order to remain hidden from the government. Despite this, one mere old account name would be enough to reveal everything he had done before the incident.

Most of the history indicated research on certain individuals. Two things stood out the most out of all the gathered information. The people that Lexx had investigated were related to the events that transpired in Grayshire. The second thing that stood out was about some of the people that had been investigated. They appeared to have some small but clear involvement in the project regarding the town of Grayshire. And records indicated they were all dead, their bodies being found mutilated, often beyond recognition.
The last webpage he had open was the one about the JTech news.

[Who are you?] Lexx typed.

This person he was talking to had some connection with what happened. So much he was sure of. It made sense to him. Why would he leave these clues particularly here? Lexx’s mind was now racing, thinking of the possibilities of who this person might be. Maybe someone that worked on the bomb? He doubted it. Why would that person make himself traceable and leave hints in the town the bomb was used on. The fact that he might be the masked man that appeared on the screens in Times Square crossed his mind. But there was no way he could be sure of it.

Ved’s eyes flickered reflections of images, news articles, and low quality, eyewitness videos of several events that had occurred over the last few months, all of which relate to the Grayshire incident. Or, as he and other online hacktivists referred to it, G-Day. As the images and articles, as well as search results of certain individuals flashed in his right eye, images and articles of a cross-referencing on the same people flashed in his left. Several of them had been presumed to be involved in G-day, at least by deep underground political conspiracy websites. As the search in his left eye continued, gruesome images of mutilated bodies began to appear as he approached more recent hits, each one killed similarly. A mutant was on the other end of this chat, he knew it completely.

He lifted up his mask, only to position a mobile voice modulator into place over his mouth, then slid back down his Mask. Tapping a few fingers on his keyboard, he activated the live-stream function of the chat room, displaying his masked face and glowing blue eyes.

"I am, Anonymous."

His hoarse voice reverberated through the vocal mod, causing it to come out in a deep, fluctuating tone, with a single hint of rasp. His fingers continued to move across the keyboard, shutting down every single one of his loops. This conversation would be completely, and absolutely, private.
Lexx didn't expect this turn into a face to face conversation. And even though he considered it, he didn't really expect the person behind this to indeed be the one that appeared on the screens in Times Square. He found it rather amusing that he had decided to introduce himself as Anonymous, considering his stunt in Times Square.
"So tell me. What is the reason behind the symbols you left here in Grayshire?" He paused for a moment but then quickly continued without allowing the masked person to respond. "But wait, let me take an educated guess first. You're gathering people like me, who were here in Grayshire on the day that happened."

Ved chuckled softly, looking down a bit and biting his lip behind his mask.
"I'm doing more than gathering. I'm organizing."
He replied gently, his fingers twitching slightly below the camera, as not to display his true nervousness.

Lexx was unsure whether he wanted to be a part of such an organization. Then again the masked man hadn't asked him to join yet. For now, only information on people responsible for what happened in Grayshire interested him.
"You know who is responsible for what occurred here?", he looked around him observing the abandoned buildings and then turned his laptop to show the man where he was, since he was unaware that Ved had already pinpointed his location.

Ved smiled a bit from behind the mask, then replied slowly, for dramatic effect.
"I am afraid, that Is privileged information."

Lexx considered his words for a moment. He was about to tell the masked man that he had no use for him in that case as he remembered seeing the news about JTech and knew he had at least one more lead. But something about him peeked his curiosity.
"Your intentions with this so-called organization you are establishing, is that privileged information too?" he asked with lingering satire in his voice.
Lexx thought they might have something In common if this figure was also after the Gray Bombing perpetrators.

Ved laughed softly, before reaching under his mask and removing his vocal manipulator, revealing his true voice, a light, yet incredibly hoarse and raspy sound, like it was almost painful for him to speak.
"I would like to meet you in person, I will meet you at your apartment tomorrow evening. Would you prefer Chinese Take-Out, or Pizza?" He asked softly, adjusting the hood of his Jacket and zipping it up further.

Lexx grinned and huffed out in amusement at the response he received and the food suggestion. "I'd rather we meet someplace else." He wasn't comfortable telling people he had just met where he lived, as he was still unaware that by checking his history the masked man pretty much already knew where he lived. Lexx sent him a bookmark of a location in central park back in New York. The place was one of the quieter areas in central park so he knew they'd be able to converse there, in private. It was also fairly far away from any surveillance. "If you still want to bring some food, I'll go with Pizza."

Just as he was about to finish his conversation, he could hear a phone ringing in the distance. "I think we might have an uninvited guest." Lexx said as he glanced at the corner of the street. Once he looked back at his laptop the chat room had been closed and the video stream had been cut. Proceeding to close his laptop he then placed it back in his backpack while still leaving it on. He then stood up and went towards the direction from where the cellphone noise had originated. Curious, are we?, he thought. As he was approaching the corner he disappeared in a flash of black dust and reappeared at the location from where the sound came behind the corner hoping to take whoever was there by surprise. Nothing. Nobody was there. Despite it he knew it wasn’t his imagination. Someone had been there moments ago. Lexx continued looking around, eyeing every building in the vicinity looking for signs of movement. Still nothing. After another half minute of just standing there watching and listening for any signs of movement Lexx gave up and went back to the bench, reopening his laptop once he was there. He tried to access the chat again but the chat room was empty. Proceeding to close the window that contained the chat room Lexx reopened the news page on JTech one more time and skimmed through it focusing on remembering the crucial details like the Daniel Moth’s name, how he looked, and the address of the JTech building with the penthouse in which he had locked himself. He then closed his laptop and repacked it as he was now preparing to leave.

David held his breath as he remained hunched over behind the counter. Every fiber of his being told him he needed to go. He needed to get out of here; to teleport home. Still, he remained where he was, listening closely. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a little shimmer of something poking through the dimensions. Getting a better look, he saw it was a gun. He almost pulled it into reality, but decided not to. The man clearly had powers like his, and seemed far more comfortable with them then he did. A little pea shooter wouldn't change that.

After a short while, it seemed the man had given up looking for him. With that, he began to think about what he had just heard. The man had been talking to someone on the laptop, although he hadn't caught everything that had been said. However, what he had heard was enough to give him an idea. First, the man in the trench coat had been here the day of the bomb as well. Of course, that was obvious, considering the powers he had displayed. Second, apparently the man on the laptop intend to gather people like him for something using symbols. He had noticed the man looking at something on the wall of the grocery store. Perhaps it warranted a look.

David poked his head out from behind the counter, slowly. Glancing around, he caught sight of a roof behind the man that would give a good vantage point. Taking a deep breath, he teleported onto the roof, placing him in view of the store, but relatively in the open as well. David caught a glimpse of the symbol. At first, he didn't notice anything odd about it. He had seen those symbols everywhere in Grayshire. This line of thought caused David to suddenly catch on to something. The man on the laptop must have also been from Grayshire. Taking a risk, David leaned forward a bit to look at the man's laptop. He was starting to pack up, but recognized the news site he had been on. David went to right himself, but suddenly lost his balance. In a moment of panic, and not sure if he had been seen, he rapidly teleported back to his apartment.

Flailing around a bit before realizing where he was, David stood up, and flopped on his bed. This warranted more investigation, but he had had enough adventure for one night.

John was only a couple blocks away from his destination. The building was on of the more worn down ones, but it still stood. The man he was meeting was Jerome Owens. His brother, Jackson, was the Vise president of JTeachs. The fact that that Jackson is uneasy about his own employer meet that there was a chance of having a mole close to Mr. Moth.

"Give me all of your money!" A man had appeared and broke his train of thought. The man held a small revolver and pointed it at him. There was something odd about this thug. He held the gun like a professional, and was nicely groomed. If this was someone from the streets John might have gone easy on him, but this was odd.

John forced the man's shadow to shoot up. The end of it slices through the man's hand and sends the gun flying. Forcing his shadow to force him towards the man, John landed a blow to his jaw and a knee to the ribs. The thug manged to get some distance between the both of them.

"Boss didn't say anything about you having this much control," blood dripped from both his hand and lip. Behind him a fire busted from a window in the building John was heading to. "I'll deal with you later," there was a bright flash of light then the man was gone. John didn't have time to waste, because he had a good guess of who's floor was on fire.

A few hours later he was back at the abandoned building he called home. Lexx entered his room and began walking towards the bed. The sound of his footsteps on the concrete floor resonated throughout the building. Before he layed down on his bead he took another look at the room he found himself in. It certainly wasn’t in good shape. The wall paint had started to peel off in various places and it made him reflect on his life since the Grayshire incident. Since then Lexx had been so focused on his vendetta he didn’t have the free time needed to find another job. His normal life was completely static. Instead all his time and effort went into finding those responsible for what happened. Killing them was easy and not much of an effort. Finding them was the hard part. When the day began he thought he had hit a roadblock. No more leads. But at this point he we was satisfied and he knew he’d sleep well since he was now back on track. Not one, but two leads. That's all he cared about. That's what his life was comprised of. One singular objective.
Lexx began pondering the events of that day once more as he drifted into unconsciousness.

The following day was mostly spent scouring the internet for more leads, which proved to be unfruitful, and the occasionally getting of snacks from a groceries store nearby. Fortunately he had taken some of the money that he accumulated while working in Grayshire. He conservatively estimated it would last him for another month or two.

The day had passed quickly and Lexx looked through his window. The sky had already taken an orange appearance as dusk was setting in.
“Time to meet our Mr. Anonymous.” He said to himself as he set out for central park.
An hour later he was sitting on a bench near the location he had sent to the masked man. He checked his phone. Despite knowing that no precise time of day was agreed upon he was growing impatient.

Ved
At around 9 o'clock p.m. he began walking to the park, stopping first to pick up a large cheese pizza with hot sauce. His mother, before she died, had shown him the wonders of Midwestern eatery, which is essentially the combination of things that shouldn't be combined, to produce delicious and hearty outcomes. His mother had grown up in Iowa, but hated it and went to college on the west-coast and loved it, deciding to move there permanently and settle down. She had always loved small towns though, which helped her in picking Grayshire as the location of choice to raise a family. Snapping out of his daydream down memory lane, he looked down at his feet as they limped forward, observing his appearance. He was a bit taller than average, around 6'2, pale as a ghost, and thin as a skeleton. He always looked incredibly sick, like he was on the verge dropping dead, and the way he trudged about didn't make things any better.

He sat down slowly, next to the man he had spoken to on the computer. He then opened the box, and with a very frail, raspy voice, politely asked;
"Cheese and hot-sauce, want a slice?"
As a child, he had nearly died several times, primarily from breathing defects, that in turn effected his voice. He was, if anything, weak, his best force was his eloquent speech and incredible computer and leadership skills.

When her shift was over, Amelia made quick work of exiting the establishment and making her way home. She'd stopped paying much mind to the hour of day, much less who was on the streets. She kept her hands tucked securely in the pockets of her faux leather and fur jacket, arms pressed firmly to her sides to make herself as small as possible. Only four inches over five feet, she found herself easily lost in the bustle of New York City. Her nose burned from the car fumes, and she rubbed irritably at her eyes as smoke invaded her senses. Struck by the oddity of something being on fire, she took a quick turn at the next street, well-worn sneakers making little sound on the sidewalk. The crowds thinned and the buildings got older as she walked, and the smoke in the air had her struggling not to cough. She'd stopped being surprised by how little people in the city were affected by all of the sights, sounds, and smells around them on her first shift, but the crackling blaze was like surround sound to her.

"What the hell?" she muttered to herself, seeing the flames and smoke coming from a single window, but threatening to spread quickly if not dealt with soon. There were few people on the street, one of them looking exactly where she was. Jogging over to him with determination in her eyes, she tapped his arm. "Call 911," she told him, trying to make it sound like an order, but it came out more like a suggestion. Her own phone was back at her small apartment, having died without a charger, and she silently cursed her luck. Of course a building catches fire while she can't even call emergency services.

Weighing her options, Amelia decided that the guy next to her wasn't likely to steal her socks and sneakers, and quickly pulled off both and left them in the nearest alley. She gave a silent prayer that he didn't have a gun on him, because being shot would suck, but if someone was in that room, she doubted they were going to make it long enough for the fire department to come. There were no sirens ringing in her ears, so she had quickly ruled out the possibility of help coming soon enough, and with her feet bare and her hands empty, Amelia started scaling the building to get a look in the open window. Was it even open? Squinting as she crawled up the building with ease, she was pretty sure she could see glass shards - so broken, not open. Close enough, as long as she could get in there.

John was slightly confused when the small woman tapped on his shoulder. Most people on the streets avoided him. Which made sense seeing how he was ragged and head an intimidating mask to help cover the burns on his face. Maybe she just didn't really get a good look at me, he thought to himself.

He snapped back to the world around him as the woman started to scale the side of the building. "Wait, don't go in there." Not only was Jerome his only solid lead, but there might be some form of trap waiting.

John ran to the side of the building she climbed up. Thinking for a moment John spread out his arms. His shadow climbed up his body to form hooks on his palms. Using the hooks to scale the building, he climbed into the broken window.

Cutting his hand as he pulled through the window, John took in the room. The woman stood a couple steps away from him, and Jerome lay on the ground unconscious. Most of the room was on fire, and it looked like it had spread out into the hall. The room seemed to be covered in tech. Most of it was used to help people from Grayshire.

Moving past the woman to Jerome, "You can ask how I got up here after we get him out of here." He turned to her, the fire lighting up his figure. His voice had a slight rasp do to his mask, "I need you to get him out of here and meet me in the ally fifteen blocks south of here." John moved to a safe that sat under a desk. He made his shadow very thin and slid it into the small keyhole.