[b]Jaden Thurston[/b]

A heavy sigh left the brown haired boy as he walked down the worn, cobblestoned sidewalk on his way to another day of work – monotonous as it was, he knew that a tiny bit of normalcy would be welcomed. A few screeching sounds of bikes passed him as he tugged at his scarf and trudged on the through the bitter cold of Oxford, England. Sometimes, he questioned why he had decided to leave America, yet he also supposed it meant doing more than just sitting there waiting for someone to come along and make another remark about how positively strange he was. 

[i]“Its not like I can do anything about it…stupid humans always jumping to conclusions.”[/i]

The chime of a doorbell was heard over head as he walked into the inviting warmth of the pub-café owned by a middle-aged man from the north of England. He was greeted by the scents of cooking food, fresh brewed teas, fire wood, alcohol – thought distinctly faint – and the sensation of being somewhere he felt comfortable in. he stepped behind a door next to the bar and shrugged off his coat, scarf, and gloves and put on the black apron that was given to them alongside the typical uniform of a black vest, tie, slacks, shoes, and a white button down shirt. Running a hand through his hair Jaden looked into the small mirror at the hooks. Pale skin, messy dark brown hair with flecks of pale chocolate. The last thing he stared back at were his own eyes. 

They were dark, lifeless and hard iron gray. A color he knew to well. He glanced at the thin chain and metal marble around his neck that rested against his tie and puffed out his cheeks before turning on his heel and walking out the door. He saw customers coming in and felt himself go into the same reaction he did every day –

“Hello! Welcome to Midnight Pub and Café! How can I help you this morning?” 

That fake, insulting, and far-to sweet smile and voice he used while in the presence of their customers was just something he did to keep people from asking – no one needed to know what he was really like, nor how he tended to keep his distance for good reasons and went through a great deal of trouble to do so. He took the orders and went up to the window to give it to the chef who greeted him in his normal kind tone – the man’s slightly red face hidden behind a walrus mustache and a white chef’s hat sat atop his head. He was on in his years and grandfatherly in his attitude towards everyone, but that didn’t change how Jaden felt.

Why did he try so hard to make things well….normal? he wasn’t, none of the ones like him were – they were freaks, and when normal humans found out they were treated like demons. He remembered, the kids in his high school saw him use his power when he had just turned fourteen – they had taunted him at first, then they were cruel, bullying him, and even occasionally beating him up. Finally he retaliated and ultimately….word began to spread a bit and the boys who tormented him ended up either safe minus a few scratches or like the only one who hadn’t been so lucky – receiving a lung made of the very thing that had hurt him. 

[i]“Fe huh…..Iron….an element that exists in everything….why was I cursed with it?” [/i]

The doorbell rang and he sighed before looking at the person who came in with another false smile and a kind voice. He could be nice if he chose to, but most of the time when he encountered people he only felt one thing – distain. They really didn’t care, and they really didn’t know what was walking past them either. Jaden considered himself anything but a human being at this point in his life and he was ready for all his efforts to pay off – he’d never met anyone like him. With a sigh he spent his hours picking up and taking orders back and forth until they finally let him off for break. By then, he was prepared to commit murder. 

“Again…why did I get this? Who did I piss off in a past life?”