Back in the city (open)

C.J. Was out of the mansion for the first time in just over a month since he had been outside of the mansion, and he figured it was high time to get some money, and new clothes. The only issue was, where could he work? He didn't have that sort of paperwork, and he wasn't a citizen, so he was stuck for what to do. He had settled for the less legal option. Now he stood in a generic brandname store, looking through all the brand marked shirts and pants. He felt sort of bad, but he really needed clothes, and the magnetic tags on these all had a metal pin running into them for removal, so he could steal them, no problem.

'I would feel bad if they payed their workers more and made their clothes locally, as it is, I don't. I'm stealing from thieves, and refuse to feel bad for it.'

With a selection of shirts and pants on his arms Cafas stepped into a change room, the one place they couldn't put video cameras. He took a bag in with him, a school style backpack, just something he could use for day trips. Each item in his arms would have cost him upwards of fifty dollars if not for his skills. Starting with the bag he layed his finger against the metal pin and began to vaporise the metal, which fell to hover near his feet in a grey cloud. The effects would wear off soon enough, and they'd be left with a shiny metal carpet cover.

'Trench coat and sunglasses are very suspect, but at least they'll never get a positive I.D. off a camera.'

When he was done he rolled the clothes into sausage shapes, those that fitted him anyway, and placed them in the bag carefully. When he left the stall both sections of the bag were filled with clothes and his jacket full of the magnetic detectors, now just harmless pieces of plastic. When he was sure that no security cameras could see him he dropped the plastic tags under a rack and walked out of the store.

"Can I have a look inside your bag please?"

'Damn it...'

A store employee stood at the door and Alchemist raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you accusing me of shoplifting sir? That's a pretty hefty allegation isn't it, theft? When you come back with a search warrant you may search my bag. You will find nothing that is not my own and I will press charges against you and the company." A glare crossed his face, hopefully all the warning the shop boy would need. A hint of red coloured his face and C.J. could see that he had won this round.

"Very well sir, carry on, have a nice day."

'That's right mate, drop the subject.'

It was then, from behind him he heard the shout. Alchemist turned to see three security guards running towards him, one with a mobile in his hand. Cafas decided it might be time to leave now. Backing away from the security people he hit the automatic glass doors. Locked, lovely, apparently they'd set off a silent alarm.

"We have video footage of you attempting to shoplift, stop where you are!"

'Like hell...

Alchemist extracted a dagger from his belt loop, turned and rammed the base into the glass of the storefront door. It cracked, and, with the security about to cross the magnetic detectors he took two steps towards them, then shoulder charged the glass. It broke under his force and C.J. stumbled into the street. Not willing to hurt anyone he ran, hurtling at top pace away from the security, sirens playing in his ears not far away. But in a crowded street, with a guy holding a knife and sirens, everyone ran screaming. Perfect cover. C.J. shot down an alley, as he had seen done in so many movies. He twisted and turned, running down more and more alleyways, avoiding streets where possible, dashing across roads if he had to, until he found an apartment area. The sounds of police and commotion were no longer audible and Cafas put the dagger on the ground as he stripped out of his jacket and tattered cargo pants. From his bag he a pair of black cargo pants, a brand splashed across the leg diagonally in vibrant red, and a white shirt. Pulling them on he put his old clothes and the knife in the bag and stood, hoping no one who had seen his little escapade had followed him.

'This could still be dangerous, but it's not like they can manage an I.D. off what they have.

Pulling the sunglasses from his eyes C.J. noted that they were likely a lovely shade of lime green, given the nerves. he stored them in his pocket and leant against a wall, attempting to calm himself. The colour of his eyes when he was calm tended to look natural. But danger would never be far away, given the location. He knew it, or he thought he did, T.V. told him NYC was going to get him mugged kidnapped and murdered if he so much as walked out his door. He would likely always have green eyes then. He chuckled.

'Constant eye colour, that'll be the day.'