[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019e8243-27d1-7331-978a-99ae0cb6dd64.webp[/img][/center] It had been what many would define as a long day. For Dominic Dusk, also known as Albert Lichtenstein it had been pretty average. He had grown up in a superhero household, and underwent his own training. Gained his own powers, had his own life fall apart. It's part of what drove him in this life. He allowed his mind to wander as he walked the streets, as Evening gave way to Dusk. He knew the way to Paloma's apartment, when she first went missing he had staked the place out. First in the hope that she had found her wayward lover, and had just spent the time catching up and forgot to tell him. Then as the weeks turned to months in the hopes that there would be some indication on what had happened to her. The letter arriving at his office with the two envelopes within it granting him power of attorney and asking him to settle her affairs should the worse happen wasn't the most positive sign, but he had still held out hope. That's why he started this job, well. After what happened in the police between him and- [COLOR=SLATEGRAY]"[i]Shit.[/i]"[/color] Walking with the flow of pedestrian traffic he turned his attention to his jacket, going from one pocket to the next. Personal cell, keys, Palomas keys, pad, pencil... He pulled his work cell from his pocket and nearly winced at the number of notifications he had. Missed calls, voicemails, emails, texts. Emails were easy, payment notifications, payment missed notifications, deals, spam, the occasional threat from a spouse who he had caught cheating. Texts, there weren't really that many. Mainly missed call notifications. Dominic put his phone up to his ear as he went through his voicemail, his feet followed an unmarked path through the other people walking the streets. They had thinned out for a while as he walked the streets, Palomas apartment was far enough away that he should really have used some form of transport. That said he did his best thinking while he was on his feet, walking the streets. Guided as if by instinct, he flicked through the messages. Only one today was someone demanding payment, which was a nice surprise. Everything else was the usual. Jaded lovers, what [i]definitely[/i] wasn't an attempt to get blackmail material on the mayor, trade secrets. Amongst these jobs, there was always something. Always one request that reminded him why he did what he did, and as if on cue the very last message loaded in: [i][Color=plum]"Hi. Um… hi. This is Joanie. Joanie Porter. I… I’m not sure if you remember me. You came by the St. Dymphna’s a while back. The group home. You gave me your card when you left. Anyway. We need your help. Look there’s a chance we’re just overreacting but one of kids here has gone missing and we don’t know what else to do. My friends and I have been trying to look for him ourselves but it is getting… I just have a feeling this is more than just a kid running away. Can you give me a call back when you can? Even if it is just to tell me I am overreacting. I would take that right now.”[/color][/i] It stopped him in his tracks. [i]St Dymphnas[/i] wasn't just a home where unwanted or runaway children ended up. It was a home where unwanted or runaway children that were [i]grays[/i] ended up. Arguements with his father, and occasionally William, had led him to spend a few nights there over the years. Largely because his best friend Alex had been a resident. In his professional life the occasional lost kid case led him there. Some, with loving parents who actually want them to help, he found. Others, who were escaping abuse or neglect, strangely evaded him. A missing kid from a home of missing kids, a kid who was probably a gray. Dusks gut churned unhappily, it wasn't unusual for kids to either move on or move home unexpectedly but they usually told [i]someone[/i] or left a note [i]somewhere[/i]. The fact that his peers were looking for him, at a time where Grays were disappearing with frightening regulatory... He saved the voicemail as he approached Palomas building and made a reminder on his personal cell to phone her back in the morning. Looking up at the nice high-rise Dusk smiled to himself, he remembered the first time Paloma described her place. Nice building, nice neighbourhood but there was always something about it that upset and plagued her. When he first visited her apartment, while spacious with grand views. It wasn't the top floor.