[color=#3CB371][b]Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian [/b]
[b]Location:[/b] Hallow Grounds coffee shop[/color]

[color=#DCDCDC]It was almost time to get off work. The sun was flirting with the tops of the skyscrapers, casting shadows and turning the sky a violent pink and orange. Orren impatiently watched the clock, waiting for the hand to hit the seven so that he could clock out and go home. He hadn't had a customer in at least thirty minutes. People didn't typically drink coffee this late, unless they worked night shift at the nearby hospital. But most of the nurses and doctors had swung by by this time. This left Orren bored and doodling on a cup as a shallow attempt at entertainment.

The shop sat mostly empty, save for a couple of customers who were on their laptops. A lot of people came here for the coffee, but stayed for the free wifi. A TV went ignored in a top corner of the shop. Someone had turned it on the news and left it there. Orren ignored it as well until the words "breaking news" caught his attention.

He looked up with mild interest. The TV showed a live feed of helicopter footage, a light skimming over the rooftops and streets, a dark figure darting just out of the way. The clip cut back to a woman at a news desk.

"This is live footage from a police chase taking place as we speak. The man you see was caught breaking into the Centerville Naval base. It is believe to be the unidentified criminal, Mindraker. The authorities have very little information on this man at this time."

It cut back to the live feed. The helicopter closed in on the man, who appeared to be running down streets and back alleys like a roach seeking a dark corner. Orren watched as the man looked over his shoulder at the cameraman, the black eyes of his mask boring into the him through the TV. The hairs on Orren's arms prickled. God there were some freaks in this city.

The camera slowly panned away from the chase, and the helicopter seemed to drift back upwards, the light no longer shining on the running man. It looked like the pilot and crew had just lost their train of thought. The footage became nothing back a vacant shot of the sky. The news woman chimed back in. She mentioned the crew losing contact with the station and seemingly forgetting what they were supposed to be doing. 

Orren turned his eyes back to the clock. Seven, finally! He took off his apron and headed into the break room to hang it up. 

"I'm heading out, Terri," He said to his coworker. Orren leaned inside the door to put his apron on a hanger and punch his numbers onto the punch in clock. He grabbed his keys from his pocket and headed out into the night. [/color]



[color=#A52A2A][b]Mindraker/ Unknown/ Male/ Unknown  
Location:[/b] Downtown area, college campus[/color]

[color=#DCDCDC]Black cloth eyes watched blankly as the helicopter careened from view, the pilot too dazed to continue the chase. They should have known better than to try and stop him. He was a bit irritated that he hadn't gotten his errand done before getting caught. He would have to go back later.

The hoodie-clad man turned and darted off once more. His breath made small clouds of steam from under his mask, the cold, early spring air chilling him through his thin garment of choice. He didn't seem to mind. He slowed as he reached the hustle and bustle of downtown, careful to stick to the shadows and not be spotted. He often took advantage of people being too busy with their lives to be aware of their surroundings. They were always distracted, unlike him. 

His mind remained on his goals, however mysterious they were to the outside world. He stalked down an empty street, his eyes set on a new goal. Mindraker had arrived at a community college, and for whatever reason, he found the need to get inside. He climbed the fence that surrounded the campus and headed for a closed building. The professors and students had left, but the janitor was still inside cleaning up. Raker tried every door before finding one unlocked and slipped into the dark halls. 

He glanced at the names on the doors until he came to the office he wanted: Professor John Wiltcress. When the door proved to be locked, he produced a makeshift lockpick from his pocket and began to work on it. Down the hall, he could hear the janitor moving  his mop bucket closer. He wasn't worried about being caught; he never was. [/color]