The brisk night air was beginning to anger a certain man, who tucked his hands into his pockets and shivered once as a force of habit. Scowling, he looked cautiously around for a moment to check for any humans or cops, and then pulled his hands out of his dark jeans. Rubbing his palms together, he breathed slowly on them to give them heat, and then fished out an emerald green zippo lighter from his jacket pocket.

Flipping it open, he took out a cigarette and lit it up, taking in a deep draw on the cancer stick and nodding to himself.
"Can't even have a smoke nowadays without some boy scout telling you where to do it..." He muttered, looking down at the ground as he exhaled a long stream of smoke from his nostrils. Talking to himself was not uncommon for Cormack. He often found his own company more pleasurable than that of others, but that might simply have been because he had yet to meet enough mutants to call associates, and the ones he had encountered were not worth his time.

Continuing his stroll, Cormack watched as a couple of joggers rushed past him with headphones on, nodding their head to a tune only they could hear. Their steps even seemed to be synchronized to their head-nodding, and Cormack simply smirked at the display.
"Heh. Idiots. Guarantee it's the latest garbage they've churned out..."

Tossing the cigarette away, Cormack simply watched the hot cherry burn brighter for a moment as the wind blew life back into it, and he held out his hand just slightly from his side. The hot embers crumbled as they regained their red color, and then the ash fell away to give room for the flame that shot up towards Cormack's hand. A small sphere of flame, like a miniature sun, hovered just between his palm and fingers; he looked down at it and felt the warmth course through his hand.

Clenching his fist, he put out the fire and turned his back to the joggers who were oblivious to what Cormack had just done, and he chuckled under his breath.
"No more work coming in... Gotta make a living, somehow, if I ever hope to end this madness..."

Stupid city. Stupid people. Stupid humans. Stupid cars. Stupid doctors. Everyone had become accustomed to staring at her and staring at her very intently. Of course, the fact that she wore a face mask over her mouth never really shouted out that she was a normal person. It was not because she had a deformed face, actually, her face was quite normal underneath, it was the air, the poisons that could be carried in it, the breath some people released that could have toxins. A face mask was the safest way to keep the air from disrupting her internal organs.

Joggers mozzied past her, eyeing her intensely. They had slowed down at the sight of her, might even have been afraid she would do something to them. But while everyone saw joggers in their little annoying matching outfits and their earbuds pushed firmly into their ears, attached to the iPod on their arm bands, Ahorta saw creatures. They were rats, with those little beady eyes and sharp front teeth. Their long naked tails wiggled behind their body and the disease and infestation rats carried dripped from their teeth and into a puddle next to Ahorta's feet.

Extremely frightened, she grabbed the nearest thing to her, a box of tossed out clothes, everyone littered in the city. In a pathetic attempt to scare away the rats, she threw it at them, hitting one of their legs with the light box.

"AYE LADY! ARE YOU CRAZY OR SOMETHING?!" he said, stopping his jog to turn to her. Ahorta cowered against the wall, trying to find something else to throw. The female rat behind him grabbed his little paw and tugged him along, urging him not to fight the weird girl, something about how she must be a mutant freak. Rats were afraid of mutant freaks? she asked herself, mentally flipping the question over and over in her mind. The female succeeded in pulling the male along and they jogged off together, occassionally darting glances back. As they ran off, she saw a small glimpse of their human forms. Humans could never be trusted.

Turning away from the circus rats, she found someone playing with a fire ball. Finally, a mutant, a real mutant with mutant compassion and beliefs, or so she hoped. There were some of those magician humans who could make it look like they had powers, but they did not. What phonies, she could always tell. "Did you see that crazy rat?! Did he get his disease on me?!" she asked, pointing to the joggers first and then back to herself. Frantically, her eyes darted around her black trench coat, searching for any sign of infection or disease.

Daimon had desided to walk home that afternoon, after a little argument with his limo driver. "Honestly..." he sighed, "The greatest prime minister London had ever known was Lord Palmerston... What does James know about english politics..." Daimon ended up asking himself... To which he had no reply. But this wasn't important, finding a descent place to eat is. So he strode down the sidewalk in his fancy, expensive, silk business suit. Clutching his italian leather brief case in one fist and swaying it back and forth seemed to give him the image of a corpulent young school boy on his way to class.

Everything was falling into place with Daimon, An appointment with the mutant school. This was a once in a life time chance, he was in such a good mood as well. Having a cute little chit chat with a girl like kasumi could always put him in a good mood... good enough to sing maybe. And so he began to hum the 1984 classic "I Can't Hold Back" by Survivor... Rather loudly as he made his way deeper into the city.