[b][u]Baron Moreau[/u][/b]

“...so, Dr. Moreau, following up on your explanation of environmental conditioning, might you have any further insight on what might have influenced the Frost Beast's crime spree? Why does he want to commit interstate bank heists? ”

“Well, miss Schuler, there are a lot of factors to take into consideration – and you make the mistake by operating under the assumption that [i]Erik Wall[/i] is stealing because he [i]wants[/i] to.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Of course.” Baron cooed. “Psychology is a science. In science, we cannot afford to make assumptions without evidence and a strong theory to support it. Without a testimony or without the proper analysis of his behavior, and evidence to reinforce an educated hypothesis, we can't assume this is something he wants.”

“Then why would this meta-human be committing felonies if he did not want to?” The reporter insisted.

“That is why we must look into his history so that we can deduce the reasons.” Baron explained. “Yes, he must pay the price for his crimes... we must also account for the possible reasons and factors that led up to the initial crime. A man's hand may be forced into a situation in order to survive or support some aspect of his life, and almost always involves some form of desperation. While it is possible that Mr. Wall might have felt powerful and therefore felt assured he could get away with greed, that analysis has not been made yet.”

“Is there a reason you mean to sympathize with meta-human criminals?”

Baron sighed ruefully and leaned on his good leg. “I do not appreciate the leading questions, dear Molly. I am saying that I do not believe in the dehumanization of individuals because of their special traits, nor do I discredit the factors that may lead an otherwise ordinary individual into a life of crime. Accounting any person as a monster or less than deserving of sympathy without proper review is, by my code of conduct, immoral and a violation of my work ethic.”

“That's all the questions for today.” The reporter grumbled. She turned around and flashed a hand sign to the camera man, and the lights on the device subsequently died down. Baron rubbed his brows in frustration as he aimed his head down. Looking around the scene of the crime, where spires of ice had erupted around an ornate building, and buzzing around it were first respondents and news teams. Flashes of light spotted here and there, and lines of yellow tape were stretched across the scene to and fro. He couldn't help but feel somewhat in awe of the meta-humans he had recently started working with. Though he was mostly curious and highly wary, there has to be admiration found for all of the enviable powers those people were granted. But his attention was brought back to the reporter who had interviewed him.

“Uh – hey, excuse me, Molly,” Baron stumbled as he fought his way through the crowd of reporters; it was only when he could break through the wall of press could he tap his interviewer's shoulder and get her attention, “may I ask what that was all about? It feels like the questions were cut short.”

“Yeah, well...” She started, stiffening her shoulders and puckering her lips in a “I don't know” sort of fashion. “I wasn't left with much of a choice if you're going to try to embarrass the station on television.”

“[i]Try to embarrass?[/i]” Baron repeated incredulously. “I haven't tried to do anything aside from answering your questions and communicating as clearly as possible. What you were doing is what doctors would call malpractice.”

“Oh please.” Schuler drawled.

“Honey,” Baron said in a soft tone, “you're a news reporter. Leave those nature of questions to attorneys and lawyers.”

“How about you worry about your business and I'll worry about mine?” She retorted back. “[i]I[/i] work for [i]my[/i] news station, and I go by the book and by what the public wants. Our interview won't be aired and that's that.”

Baron stared blankly at her for a moment or two, as if trying to get a read on her. He finally resigned with a huff, “okay, fair enough, my apologies. I'll be on my way.”

With a step and click, the doctor did hobble his way from the crime scene and back into one of the finer sections of the city, where it smelled of bread from the bakery and coffee from the local coffee shop. That reporter he was just talking to – dear God, what was it she said? She goes by the book and by what the public [i]wants?[/i] She wasn't a [i]reporter[/i], she was an entertainer! It's the same sort of garbage that Fox network feeds its viewers. The fact that the interview with a doctor that concerns that mental well-being of the convict wouldn't be aired because it contradicted what the [i]network[/i] valued was ridiculous to him! Sensationalist headlines and racism – it was the whole package. Even going to referring the criminal by a stage name to further dehumanize NEST's latest target, and even further NEST praise. Baron himself didn't necessarily have anything against the NEST organization, but he did oppose news networks with a clear political bias.

His own feelings on the matter were simple: he approached the subject with the equal treatment of meta-humans in mind. That they were of the same class and mental health as the common man. While it is true that some people, when granted power, may abuse that power. It suggests that power corrupts, whereas Baron was a believer in power and wealth as a magnifier of a person's attitude. If this was indeed the case with Erik Wall, that he was simply an opportunistic criminal, then whether or not he had a power wouldn't matter. However, Erik was granted power, and thought he could get away with it. That makes it less of a problem with meta-humans, and more of a problem with mankind altogether. This was, of course, working under the assumption that Erik was in fact that kind of person... and scientists don't deal in assumptions.

All of that being taken into consideration, Baron was worried about a growing anti-meta-human sentiment building up in town due to a group polarization mentality. He still sought to sit down and perform his own social experiments with metas. A PET scan would be fantastic, but he was somewhat skeptical of this town and any of its clinics being in possession of such a machine So for now, he was stuck with simple observation techniques.

The man was adorned in a typical dress suit outfit, with the coat, slacks, and the whole shebang. A simple scarf had wrapped around his neck, which had hidden the mint green Oxford shirt beneath. There was nary a wrinkle nor hair astray that littered his attire, and his black hair was gelled and combed backward. He didn't need a head-piece very much – this was spring weather compared to the northern wastes that was Canada. He felt so spruced up today, he probably could've flirted his way through that confrontation, but alas, Baron conscience got in the way. At times, he thought be might be better ridden of that moral compass of his, but it had at least guided him this far in life. While Venezuela might have knocked it off its balance a bit, the compass was generally intact.

And then there was that smell of coffee. God, it was tempting. The thought of giving in to such an indulgence had reminded him of another; he reached into his pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Smacking one side of the pack a couple times – a technique to help pack the tobacco tighter – he pulled out a stick and lit it with a chrome zippo lighter. The first few puffs of smoke eased the tension in Baron's body. He knew it was bad, and he knew it was in the mind... but man, placebo faux cigs did nothing like the real deal. Now... coffee. Because nothing relaxed a man's nerves like caffeine. So, he just had to hitch a ride on one of these trolleys and – oh, no, they were buses. So, he just had to hitch a ride on one of these buses and make his way to the coffee shop. Sure, he'd use his car, but he wanted to get to know the town. What better way than by bus? So what was this shop called? The Mean Bean Machine or something? 

It didn't sound very classy at all, but it was a local store. The rustic charm had its appeal. It didn't take very long to find public transport and pay its fare before finding his seat. The crowd on the bus was very small, and only a few others were on it. This was the nicer part of town, wasn't it? People around here didn't use the bus very often because everyone could afford their own cars. The few he saw looked to be the standard middle-class couple, one with cropped brown hair, and the other, a blonde woman with a bob cut. Baron watched them carefully. He spotted a small diamond rind on the woman's right ring finger, and a tan line on her left ring finger. Middle class, definitely. It wasn't uncommon to reuse the engagement ring as the wedding ring, and the ring looked fairly valuable. So there was enough middle ground for him to derive that conclusion. Her eyes were unresponsive to the man's movements as he talked – the man was expressive, and likely passionate – but she was smiling and nodded. The woman was blind. She lacked the glasses and cane that would typically signify that, and the tone of her skin was even. Very little, if any blemish. She must not like feeling old, but wouldn't be able to apply it herself. The man had very good hygiene and was expertly groomed. He must have helped her with it. Overall, they appear to be a fairly loving couple, even if it is unexpected.

The bus weaved its way through town, and Baron learned that the Mean Bean Machine was just a block or two off from where he was. He bid his farewell and thanks to the bus driver (his breath smells of booze, slight shine of oil in his hair [must've not showered this morning], reddened, however, not blood-shot eyes; swollen finger on his right hand – a divorcee?) and stepped off the bus in front of the coffee shop. What to get? The usual sounded pretty good. Iced coffee. Even back in Canada they looked at him strange for drinking iced coffee during the winter. There was something about a cold drink that brought out its flavor better. Regardless, Baron pushed open the glass door, which rang a bell as he entered. He looked up and saw a mistletoe hanging in the doorway. He smiled to himself and walked away from the doorway and looked around the coffee shop. It seemed pretty lively. A lot of couples. Only one or two tables seemed to have a group of friends, and one table had a family sitting around it. One of them had two ladies sitting around a table top, one younger (easily a teenager), the other older (early twenties). They could be mistaken for as sisters if they didn't look so different. Step-siblings perhaps? Anyways, this shop may have not been top-tier, but the locals seem to enjoy coming here.

Baron scooted over to the ordering table and met the barista with a smile. “An iced coffee please.”

He looked back around the cafe' as he unwrapped his scarf from around his neck. This might be a pretty good place to meet some locals and learn about the town. This might be a good place to get in touch with a meta-human or two. He hasn't as of yet to meet one on a personable level. Most people tend to shy away when they hear about a doctor looking for a meta-human to work with.