Washington D.C.
It was warm for D.C. perhaps it was the significant increase of mass on the planet's surface, or perhaps it was the over-pollution causing the world to raise in temperature, whichever it was, the heat was a bit more intense than usual. At nearly 85 degrees with a 95% percent humidity, it was nearly unbearable, especially for the foreign aliens who's home world was cold or dry. For them, it would quite possibly feel like they were in hell due to the intense heat, and given some of the company lurking about the streets, they could has well been. The members of the Holy terror roaming the streets would attack anyone they could, and often did, only to further their message that aliens were not welcome on earth. While it was their opinion alone, they enforced it like it was the general vote that humanity separate was to remain from alien races, whereas in reality most human being wanted piece with their foreign friends, not to participate in their genocide.
Alien and mankind alike walked the streets of what had become the headquarters for alien to human communication and politics, which resulted in heavy Holy Terror and Kradictron forces, wandering the streets and causing what trouble they could, but unsurprisingly only picking on small singles, as most of them were merely cowards with an attitude problem. It was the higher ups that were assigned actual missions that were the real problem, due to the fact that they had real capabilities. The only threat the entry levelers caused was occasional graffiti and jumpings, but no real long-lasting effects. A group of aliens and humans had actually began teaming up to combat anyone who aligned themselves with the Holy Terror or Kradictron, and openly challenged and normally fought them. Dressed as classic skinheads, they were often spotted in high-prejudice areas, the poorer neighborhoods. They had slowly begun to increase in popularity, and then overnight became a huge group, with no known leader.
Ved
He sat quietly, reading from a small novel with the title Moby Dick, it was a human classic according to the few humans he had developed friendships with, one of them a professor on Human literature, so his word must have had some weight to it. Although, not much of the youth seemed to recognize, or even shown any interest to the variable quotes of the book. Perhaps the latest generation had different classics, and those would surely be discovered but for now, he had a wonderful cup of something called an Americano, a type of coffee, a bitter tasting liquid served steaming hot, and despite it's flavor had a certain way of growing on someone. He drank from it slowly, allow the air to cool the drink as he sipped it, not wanting to burn himself again out of eagerness.
He was what humans called a scholar, a professor or teacher, and had originally taught courses on the varying cultures of each race that he could manage to squeeze into a year. His passion now, was the cultures of Humanity, the only race to actually vary in culture that he had ever discovered, it interested him how differences so large could occur based only off of geographical differences. He also had a serious intrest in higher-class human fasion, and had not gone three months without wearing a suit of some kind.
