[color=f7941d][h2]Douglas Song[/h2][/color][color=f7941d][h3]Best 8 Motel[/h3][/color]
Song had been preparing for some time for the evening news, to come to see if anything had been learned about the strange events that took place earlier that morning. Fate on the other hand had entirely different plans for that, the sort where it intervened in a divine and clear manner, as bright as the moon would be if the city's lights had not drowned it out. It arrived to him, the message that was, as he sat quietly in the chair at the desk, accompanied only by the empty cup; like the container, Song was away from himself in mind and thought as if he had vacated his body, returning only at the crackle of the television to life.

At first it was the ticking of a clock, but the man was not fooled by this. Calmly rising from his chair, soon holding it by its back, he shuffled it aside and stood to bear witness to the cryptic message. As strangely as it came, it left, flickering through various images, one of which he noted in particular. With a nod, scanning over the numbers, they faded out seemingly for good, with Song only pouring himself yet another cup of his tea.

"Good." His lips answered the screen before disappearing behind the mug's rim. A pause came as he drank, but it followed after with more words, "You have made my work easier."

The base of the cup clattered to the plain, though decidedly aged face of the table, Song's palm resting atop its mouth. He would move again now, up and vanish to somewhere else as he had before. This was no real challenge after all, the most he owned being a cache of weapons, a few clothes and personal goods, and a tiny tea chest. The numbers themselves were no trial either as perhaps wittingly or unwittingly, the broadcasters showed him the location of someone who would know what they meant; the college. There would be little issue in blending in among the students or recognizing the exact place displayed in the frame. Considering they were a student? They were unlikely to up and leave the campus, even if something this odd had happened, assuming they even saw it. Someone, somewhere there would have an in.

So in a silent few minutes, with footfall no louder than cat's feet, the stoic, clam figure drifted among the room and vanished after; nothing more than a bag across his shoulders, a scarf wrapped around his face, and his clothes changed once more to jeans and a jacket. For all intents and purposes, being a nobody had its perks.