[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/KN9xTHL.png[/img]
[sub]Jayson Vargas | Psychic | Mid-Town | Watched | [@FoundTonight][/sub] [/center]

[indent]Jayson wasn't use to being apart of the crowd, in fact he disliked it. He didn't know why but the voices always grew in number when he was surrounded by other people. The voices he was use to often fell to the background to strange new ones. Which was why he currently muted the voices, indiscriminately tedious and vicious all at once, to the sound of a pop-instrumental. The buds of his white earphones were snugly inside as he gathered inspiration for a new animation from the bustling of Mid-Town's urban and diverse environment. From the people striding with drinks in hand, to the couples sauntering home with smiles between them, even the sprinting criminals and daring vigilantes had a place in his depiction of Mid-Town.

Jayson paused. [i]Criminals and vigilantes?[/i] 

The black pen to his notepad slumping as he looked up from his current work; a rather accurate visage of Mid-Town's streets, skyscrapers, and entrant alleyways visible from the street-bench he was working from. A flash, a small form bounded fifty feet across the air. Another body followed in pursuit, the red and blue lights of police vehicles were everywhere; they were even represented in his art. [i]How did I not process this?[/i] he thought calmly.

He packed away his notepad in its carrier and readied himself to leave. Already he regretted leaving his safe, quiet home. Nervously he scratched at his right eyebrow, crossed the busy street, and begun walking amongst the crowd. For awhile too much was happening inside him. His voices were talking about the Underground, criminals were meticulously planning escapes, and other voice were just hoping to save people. Meanwhile the majority of his strange hallucinations were mindlessly talking about life, sex, jobs, and dinner.

Then a hoard of voices yelled, it was thunderous. A moment later the ground shuddered and the people behind him had pushed forward. Jayson fell, dirtying his cream jacket as shoes, heels, and sandals stampeded around him. His carrier had ended up off to side of him, open for all the stomping feet around. He had so much work on it that his skin had begun to itch just thinking about the loss. The feeling thorned around him for a second and as Jayson reached his hand out towards it, he gasped and a shockwave blasted the people away from him, sending bodies hurdling into the street, into buildings, and back onto the cement.  

Jayson stared at his carrier, the sudden lack of feet moving around it sent a wave of relief through him. He sighed and grabbed it close to him. [b]"What is wrong with these people?"[/b] he agonized aloud. He eyed a forming-fitting suit of black out the corner of his eye, a veil of red hair, and a thrumming drone high above the sultry woman. He leaned back on his arm, holding his carrier with the other, and looked up at the drone with a raised brow. [b]"I'm never coming back to the city."[/b] he muttered.[/indent]