The Exile

Pandas and Burritos

A hooded figure stood among the crowd of drunks that night, holding some food wrapped in a paper. He kept his sights on the incoming helicopter above the city. He smirked while concentrating on the passengers. Unfortunately, his eyesight wasn't exactly "superhuman", but he knew the helicopter was nothing ordinary. He slowly chewed on a burrito and blended himself into the swarm of people.

He walked through the alley and scaled the side of a hotel with relative ease. He gained speed as he used the momentum to run up the wall. The hooded figure skidded up the side and clasped onto an edge of a window. He blended into the shadows and stayed on his perch. He never moved an inch—his patience was inhuman. The duo of Exorcists scrambled down one of the buildings as the figure kept watch. His position was never alerted even after getting a couple bites on his burrito. He gently slid down to the street below to keep on their tail, hoping to get some answers of his own. The figure sat down with some of the vagrants of the city while sharing some of his burrito with them, but never keeping his sights away from the pair.

He watched them stumble and struggle to keep their footing while looking at their new environment. Almost like, two baby deer wandering off into the hunting grounds. Muggers could pick up their unfamiliarity a mile away. They had trouble blending in and the figure couldn't help but look over them as if trying to protect them. He stood up and left his burrito for the drifters to eat amongst themselves. Something bugged him about them, but he needed to inspect further. The moment seemed very crucial until the figure stopped by a market that was open for the special event going on that day.

The entrance chimed with a little electronic bell and he made his way to the fountain drinks and playfully skipped toward it with his Panda bear lanyard swaying back and forth. He dragged his finger over the various soft drink flavors while each nozzle sprayed below. His hand reached for the biggest cup and he filled it with his preferred spicy cherry flavor drink with a hint of vanilla, Sir Fizzle. The figure snapped on the lid and slipped the straw inside as he walked to the cashier.

"Not drinking tonight?" The cashier asked with a smile.

"Not one to get inebriated on a fine night like this." The figure sighed.

"That's two seventeen."

"Here ya go," The figure dropped three one-dollar bills and walked off, "Keep the change!"

As expected, the pair were still there bickering about directions—they looked like married tourists who are on the verge of divorce and felt that a vacation would help them. Unfortunately, just like the tourists, nothing's helping them.

This is just sad. The figure thought to himself while he sipped on his soda. He merged with drunken crowd and followed the motion toward the duo. He brushed through the middle of them to see if they were actually aware of their surroundings. Surprisingly, they ignored the "accidental" bump. He smirked and continued on his merry way. He turned around to see if they said anything, but they vanished causing the figure's steps to stagger over each other. His eyes quickly skimmed the atmosphere, hoping to pick up their location. His deductions didn't return any reason to worry. He walked across the streets until he reached a hostel above a library. The celebration in town meant that the rooms were somewhat vacant—allowing him some privacy and sleep.

"Who are those idiots?" He said to himself while he fixed his hood for his snooze, "The Elders outdone themselves this time."