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[b]Los Angeles[/b]
[@Shard][hr]

The faint sound of approaching sirens hummed in the air, he listened to it with a careful ear. The police were no friend to vigilantes, in fact he'd gotten lucky in dodging them more than a few times. His particular style of fighting crime often involved the more destructive elements. It wasn't as if he could quite help it, pyro-kinesis was just an inherently destructive ability. He needed fire to manipulate flames and even fire that he was wielding was fire that was destroying everything around it. It would be a lie to say that he did much crime fighting that didn't end in a lot of fire damage.

He had gotten lucky here, he hadn't had to do much at all and Midnight’s style of fighting didn't cause much chaos. It was quick and it was clean, it didn't even seem as if he had killed the alligator-man. He seemed to be thoroughly incapacitated but he was living, and that matter to some people. It was one thing to be a vigilante, it was another thing to be a vigilante and a [i]murderer.[/i] Keandre tried to stray from that himself, though that was not to say that many villains left fights with him completely in tact.

“[color=a0410d]Éclater.[/color]” He responded to the inquiry about his name, taking care to enunciate it. Many times his name had been butchered in pronunciation, not that proper pronunciation of the French word for “Burst” should have been his main priority but… [i]C’est la vie.[/i] “[color=a0410d]I may suggest you walk in front of me, but yes, we should go before things start to heat up around here.[/color]”

He fell two steps behind the kid because it served him to keep him in vision of his left eye. He carefully extended his right arm, stretching his fingers out. Keandre didn't like sidewalks, moving through a bustle of people with one eye was precarious, especially if the vision of that one eye was also somewhat limited. He didn't like having to feel for other people or worrying about them running into him. It was a pain, it was an [i]extreme pain[/i]. 

“[color=a0410d]They mentioned me on the news, not so long ago. Not by name but by action.[/color]” He said. “[color=a0410d]I believe they référé to me as “more of a nuisance than he's worth”, something along those lines.[/color]”

That was the only kind of description a serial arsonist vigilante deserved, really. He drew the flask back out of his pocket, tilted his mask and took another long swig. He wasn't expecting anything but notoriety, the day people started recognizing him in a positive light was a day that he likely would not live to see. They'd miss him if he was gone, [i]probably.[/i] Perhaps they wouldn't miss the wreckage he left behind at all. All this existentialism was heavy. He ought to stop thinking about this until he was drunk enough to work through it.[/center]