[h2]C H R I S T I A N . A L E X A N D E R[/h2][hr][hr]
The summer afternoon heat baked the students making their way home from summer classes, uniforms melting with bright, disgustingly designed t-shirts that sported the hideous Tropical City logo. One such student was a blue haired teen, though rather than dressed in his uniform, he was dressed down in typical teen garb. He was, after all, the school's student council president, and thus couldn't possibly have landed himself in summer school. The epitome of normality, Chris walked amongst the tourists without so much as a glance up his phone.

The only thing strange about the teen was his right hand, hidden in the pocket of his jeans and covered in a latex glove. As his left hand continued to text away, his right shoulder accidentally collided with a man walking past him, the man immediately falling forward, the crowd of strangers merely making like a river meeting stone and passing around him. It'll probably take a few hours give or take, for anyone to even notice the man was bleeding himself to death with a knife to his chest, deduced Chris as he peeled the glove off and shoved it in some woman's bag. 

[b]"Hey, yeah, I just finished a game in South Street,"[/b] he said into his phone after it rung, inconspicuously stopping by a bench as he tied up his shoes, smiling at the people nearby, an explosion happening behind him. Probably some supers duking it out. Not his problem. He was just a high school honor roll student spending a summer out in the tourist trap of the world. As he stood from tying his shoe, a flyer made its way against his leg, Chris picking it up. [b]"Hm? Yeah the Festival tomorrow? Sure, see ya there."[/b]