Prototype : A New Start

Fresh Air

REVISED

"Don't get lost."

"Yes, dad. I'll be back before midnight."

If looks could have killed people, Mercer's glare would have erased him from existence, alongside half of the city with him. The short, blonde evolved wasted no time in getting out of the mansion as quickly as he can. All the while smiling ears to ears, not even once looking back.

After he closed the gate shut behind him, he looked around at his surrounding neighborhood, eyeing the street and other mansions in slight interest. There were the occasional pedestrian and car passing through, but that's about it.

What's really worth telling of is the chirping of birds from the nearby trees. It honestly relaxes him.

Today, he is going to scout out the place! He's not Mercer, who had the grim luck of consuming some New Yorkers who moved out of Detroit or simply had went to the place, giving him an out-of-date information of the area, but that still helped him, nonetheless. Damian never went far from New York, nor any of the Blackwatch or Gentek personnel he ate. Which means he has to do this the good old way by himself.

Well, not really all by himself, he just felt like he needs to start taking his responsibilities... something about growing up! Mercer wasn't convinced when he said that, and he's certainly not convinced about it himself. It sounds much better in his head, honestly.

Arguably, Damian was only sixteen... or was it seventeen? Maybe he was fifteen, he juggled the memories. And Apollo himself is not event a-tenth of that. His only real interaction so far was killing or consuming people, annoying Mercer and the other Evolveds, add in some spices of espionage and sabotage activities, and you have someone who would make Colonel Rooks wished he had hair just to rips it out with his bare hands out of frustration.

Let's just say he has done a lot of damages behind the scene. And, no. Talking with Alex doesn't count. Reasons.

Not wanting to look like a delinquent or someone that doesn't belongs here, he had shapeshifted into his previous apparel prior to talking to Mercer, back in his bomber jacket, shirt, jeans and everything. And of course, the crimson baggy hat. That always stay on. It looks pretty casual, and rather comfortable to put on. He made sure they all looked clean and tidy before going out, the last thing he wanted is to get a cop pulled on him because he looked like a troublemaker on a wealthy street such as Palmer Woods.

A truly discomforting truth in America. Hell, no matter what he wore, with the racial discrimination that these humans likes to get themselves into, if he was brown or black, they might aswell just drag his ass anyway.

"-just saying, but why should we wear those hideous uniform? Those old hags in the board always makes these stupid rules, revoke them, then add them again later, its so ridiculous!" Curious, He turned to look at the direction of the owner of the feminime voice, an approaching crowd of teenagers which is problably around the same age as him, he stepped aside by instinct as they comes closer, giving them room to walk past without a problem.

A small group of three in varying outfits, all girls. The shortest girl is wearing what seems to be a classic school getup; A brown football jacket that somehow fits her long, wavy brown hair. The blonde who stood in the middle is wearing a red blazer and a short skirt, while the tallest one who's accompanying the blonde on the left is wearing a regular turtleneck sweater and dark leggings. Looking at her long, raven hair with those dark outfit reminds him of Mercer.

Gloomy, but certainly not an Emo.

"That's Detroit to you, Valeria." The tallest girl replied with a bored look on her face. "They don't have to work as the whole thing is broken from the first place."