John Black opened his eyes, his brain pulsating as a splitting headache ruptured through it. He sighed, sitting up. He looked down at the rather soft bed he was on, taking in the smell of the recently washed sheets. Another quick glance around the room, and he remembered what had happened. The hotel key card told him where he was. The lack of any mess reminded him that he still had to unpack. Finally, the man hanging from the ceiling told him that he had committed a murder last night.
The details were still a bit foggy, but John remembered one thing. It was fun as hell. He stood on his feet, stretching, as he let out a well-deserved yawn. Conveniently enough, there was still some liquid left in the glass of iced tea on the hotels desk. The antioxidants in the drink did wonders for him, as it helped him produce dopamine faster, and just tasted good. Nothing gave him a perk better than his good old iced tea, save a nice glass of red wine, but that wasn't currently available.
"Now, onto the matter at hand..." John thought to himself, looking at the body. The man’s neck was squeezed tight by a thin strip of leather, decidedly the man’s belt, judging from how low his pants hung. The belt was tied tightly onto the ceiling lamp above. To any single glance, it almost appeared to be a suicide. Hell, it even fooled John for a second, until the iced tea kicked in, and his memories came flooding back.
A rudely loud and persistent knock rang on the door of the hotel room. A man could clearly be seen through the peep-hole, yelling at the top of his lungs. John threw a quick look at the clock as he walked over to the door. 'What could he want at 2 AM?' John thought to himself. A longer glance through the peep-hole showed that the angry bald man was sporting a pistol, waving it carelessly as he yelled, something about 'BLOODY CONDUITS, RUINING MY CITY'. What nonsense. However, John couldn't just let this man go on to the next room, and attack whatever conduit or non-conduit caught his eye.
So, he graciously opened the door, while simultaneously willing pain to flow through the man’s body. Surely enough, the man fell to the floor, writhing in the pain, as John dragged him into the room. 'Poor baby. Did you get a booboo?' He asked, as he began to tie the noose, wasting no time in executing the bastard. He really didn't have time to deal with the formalities and whatnot, as he was already jet-lagged from the trip he just took to France, and using up most of his dopamine did not help in the slightest. What he needed was his beauty sleep.
So now that the puzzle pieces had been put together, John smiled, impressed with his handiwork. He knew that it wouldn't be long now until someone he knew noticed he was gone. However, John didn't worry about that, as he was a conduit- no a god. The police couldn't stop him. John went down to the lobby of the hotel, after putting on a nice new suit, and picking up his suitcase. After buying another iced tea form the hotels small store, he checked out, walking into the busy streets of New York.
He pulled out his phone, peering at the bright screen. He had written down a list of things to do while in New York, among them being climb the Empire State building, go to 'The Cinder', a popular pub for conduits, and learn about this so-called Syndicate that was terrorizing his kind. Perhaps there was something valuable that he could learn from them. Climbing the Empire State building was crossed off, and a quick check showed that he had taken a picture of himself scaling the side of the massive building. 'Being a conduit is amazing.' He thought to himself.
"Well, I suppose that pub is next. It couldn't hurt, and hell, he might find someone who could help him in his search for the Syndicate. So, he caught the first cab he could get, and took a trip quick down to the street it was on. More than a bit paranoid, he peered in through the windows, 'casing' the place. He saw a few people, not nearly as many as he had expected. He locked eyes with a rather surly fellow in a leather jacket while peering in, and immediately looked away, whistling in a rather suspicious manner.
Deciding that, all in all, it couldn’t be too bad of an idea, John walked towards the pub, noting that all seemed to be focused on the bartender. As he entered, he took a brief minute to focus, sending a wave of pleasure through the minds of everyone in the room. This was to put them off of their guard, in case they attempted to attack them, as well as making himself seem more powerful. He had a more imposing effect when he could make you feel good just by walking into the room, he had found.
"No one here would happen to know of any group of ruffians running around, I believe that they call themselves 'The Syndicate'?" He asked as he walked in, not hearing any of the previous conversation.
