[center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1126464824675680277/1131403391491379230/Valiant.gif[/img]
[sub]"[i]Welcome to Jamrock[/i]"[/sub][/center]

From the moment he had stepped off the airplane earlier, Weston Cassidy knew things wouldn't be as advertised. The six-hour trip across the North American skies, fully paid for by the Aegis Center for Metahuman Rehabilitation, had been entirely uneventful. Entering the San Francisco International Airport, however, proved otherwise. Almost immediately, the teenager had been joined by an adult man with a no-nonsense expression who had fallen into lockstep aside him. The patch labeled Junior Vigilante Program had told Weston this individual was to escort him to his next destination. The hand casually resting atop a holstered security baton and the cautious distance between the two had told Wes this was a man whose purpose was to handle the young metahuman. 

Not that it mattered much to Wes in the long run. Regardless of whether or not the Ju-V program was less altruistic than he might have first believed, it didn't change his thoughts or desires. He had volunteered for the initiative with a goal in mind, and so long as attending the program brought him closer to achieving it, he'd tolerate just about anything. After all, the runaway had been through worse in the past several years. 

Hours later, when the bus rolled up to his stop, Weston ambled up the steps. The handler from the airport stayed behind only to be replaced by another already present at the back of the extended vehicle, this one much more apparent in their guard duties. The soft notes of Journey lightly bouncing around the bus went unnoticed by the young man whose headphones were instead pumping [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FgLOpGEn7b4]a different rhythm[/url] directly into his ears. As he moved down the aisle from beneath his hoodie, his eyes briefly flicked across each other passenger. 

A diminutive girl sat up front. Her outfit and posture gave a tidied, proper appearance. Near her was an almost equally petite young woman, though the similarities stopped there as this one exuded more energy than even Weston was capable of. Beyond the two of them was a teenage boy. His shock of white hair kept Wes' attention a moment longer than the others. The red-haired girl behind the boy also garnered an extended glance; her earbuds briefly enticed his interest. 

However, the following five occupants barely caught his eye as he raised his head to look for an empty seat. Then he noticed the teen at the back of the bus who looked like he was on his way to audition for a boyband. The guard behind the boy never took his eyes off that one. Weston noted the radio clutched in the man's hand and the tenseness with which he sat, poised to act if need be. For a moment, Wes considered moving toward the back to take a seat across from the boy, but just as he did, the bus began to move again, and he quickly sat on the closest empty bench. 

Positioning himself so his back was against the window, Wes kept his gaze settled toward the vehicle's rear during the next portion of their journey. He had spent enough time on the streets to recognize when someone readied themselves for a confrontation. The adult guard, for whatever reason, was prepared just for that. Weston likewise prepared himself to intervene should the boy with the pretty hair find himself in danger. Wes adjusted the volume of his MP3 player. Maxxed out, he had no doubt those sitting near him could now hear the bass pulsing through his headphones. The beat coursed through him, and Wes felt the familiar buzzing sensation work through his system. 

After several more minutes, the guard eventually slid his radio back into its belt holster, and by the time they were pulling up to their next stop, Weston decided nothing was likely to happen. Shifting his body to face out the window, Wes occupied himself by watching the rolling hills of San Francisco. Coming from the almost entirely flat city of Philadelphia, the ups and downs of San Fran were a marvel to him. At specific points along their trip, Weston could only see the sky over the massive hills they rode up. The pedestrians along the sidewalks going about their day also looked strange to the teenager, almost as if they were perpendicular in comparison to him. He wondered what it would feel like to walk those streets himself. 

The shifting of the bus pulled Weston from his thoughts. He quickly looked over his shoulder, catching just the large frame of a broad-shouldered young man taking the seat behind. He eased the volume of his MP3 player down some, feeling that tingling sensation subside in return, as Wes slid himself toward the outside of his seat. Leaning into the aisle, he caught the arrival of the newest passenger, a girl who looked close to his height and was wearing her light brown hair up in a ponytail, with several locks hanging loose to frame her younger features. She stepped hesitantly onto the bus, taking great care with her movements as she navigated to a seat in the second row. Weston sat upright, his left hand gripping the back of the seat before him as the girl turned around to sit. Protruding from the girl's back were large wings of light and dark browns. 

Wes had been operating as a vigilante for the last three years. Since discovering his metahuman nature, his life in Philadelphia had primarily been full of dangerous situations and exciting figures. In all that time fighting crime, though, the young man had never encountered another like him. At least, not that he knew of. He wasn't stupid, either; Weston knew the Ju-V program would be full of other metahumans, but he hadn't considered that some would have unique physicalities to them. While he understood that each of the other teenagers on this bus were, in fact, metas, it was different when faced with the unmistakable evidence of someone's nature. 

He couldn't keep his eyes off the girl. For the rest of the trip, he leaned into the aisle to get a better look at her. Wes studied every visible feather of her wings, the gradual shifting in colors, the way they ruffled slightly each time the bus' doors slid open. He couldn't imagine how it must feel to have them.

So focused was he on the girl's wings he barely noticed as a small, furred creature boarded. If it wasn't for the shouts from another passenger, he might not have registered the otter. Still, the lightly dripping beast was more an afterthought to Weston than anything. One of the teens bringing a pet to the program was odd, but the winged girl still held his attention. 

When they arrived at the harbor and it came time to disembark the bus, Weston moved with uncharacteristic haste to get down the aisle before the others. He wanted a closer look and ended up just two behind the girl. Thumbing the pause button on his MP3 player, Weston stepped off the bus. 

Whether or not the experience would be as advertised, Wes now knew, without a doubt, that his time in-program [i]would[/i] be worth it.