All good things must come to an end, Elliot knew, and that meant returning himself to the den of ridicule and ridiculousness that was the PRT headquarters. The destination looming before him like the onrush of night did not, however, prevent him from savoring the last few morsels of the ordinary world as he passed them by. Elliot took his time on his way back, letting his eyes wander even if he confined his feet to a particular path, and in doing so happened to discover someone that stood out from the crowd.

While waiting for the 'walk' sign at an intersection, he found himself momentarily admiring a pretty ginger and musing on the contrast between her stellar looks and drab garb. He made sure not to glance at her for more than a moment. [i]I'll not give her the wrong idea, lest the creature notice and reap from me my soul to fill her empty void,[/i] he thought, snickering at his own joke. However, he could not ignore as she seemed to approach him, growing unusually near to him -especially for a member of the opposite sex- before pronouncing three words that made his hackles rise. The Margrave, for in a flash the anti-hero was on the case, cast the woman a portentous glance that she met with her own even gaze before moving on. A second passed, then two, then three. The stranger veered into an apartment building not far away, her retreat marked by the lone crusader glaring over his shoulder by the stoplight.

[color=8F9779]“Someone's been paying a bit too much attention for her own good,”[/color] he said aloud, not even under his breath. Two of the four other citizens waiting at the crosswalk threw him a bewildered or indignant look, but the young man who seemingly accused them paid them no mind, for he had already leaped into action. The Margrave traced the woman's path, approaching the building into which she vanished moments ago, and upon its doorstep lay a sealed letter. Its embellishment appalled him, since no enigmatic vigilante could be seen clutching an envelop emblazoned with such femininity, but duty called and the Margrave answered. He tore open the letter and crushed its packaging underfoot, his wanton littering a clear rebellion against the establishment, and took in the message's contents whilst leaning against the nearest wall with utterly casual confidence.

A moment later, he'd come to a decision. [color=8F9779]“Fiendish aberrations lurk in the shadows,”[/color] he murmured, making his voice as low and gravelly as conceivably possible. [color=8F9779]“A demon betrays her kindred, spurred on by still greater darkness to aid the light. It falls to me to bring this intelligence to light.”[/color] The crosswalk-signal went white and the citizens began to cross, only to nearly be trampled by the Margrave as he sprinted across the street and made for the Protectorate HQ as though stygian Cerberus itself were nipping at his heels.