Modern thunder-- the rumble of cars as they travel the overpass, a constant noise filling the night with a distant, unreachable life.

A concrete arch holds the road overhead, but down here there's nothing but dirty snow and the brown vegetation of a neglected place, a little spot of old city where nature has made a weak attempt at reclamation. Maybe there was once a railway through here, or plans for one. Now, there's just the unhealthy vegetation and the traffic noise above, this useless concrete arch and a forgotten place, fenced in by rusted chain link and decorated with graffiti. And one more thing.

Under the arch, the harsh fluorescent light that bathes the area is blotted out, and shadow rules-- a return to primal night. This darkness is less empty, tonight. Somewhere in the shadow of the overpass, a predator waits.

He's leaning against the wall, silent. One white hand fiddles with a sleek pair of sunglasses. The other rests in his pocket. His clothing is black against black, a tenchcoat, slacks, turtleneck. A scarf. Simple. His hair is an amber flame, dimmed only by the absense of light here, under the overpass. his eyes are amber and nothing seems to dim them.

Pale Death. You can forget the part about the mount and the other three horsemen.

He felt empty.
Gathering a multitude of strange looks from people to add to his collection as he walked past them. He was bothered, but not by much, more confused then anything.
He pulled his hands out of the pockets of his light green jacket. Normal enough. No webbed fingers or scales or anything out of the ordinary. His hair was shaggy and brown. Light brown, a good contrast to his eyes, which were a faded blue. His face was full, but not chubby in the least. His clothes weren't too bad. Pair of jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. His sneakers were high tops, still in good condition. He doubted he'd ever be able to find what bothered people about him.

He let his eyes wander down to the sidewalk, easier to pretend you didn't notice. To his right a girl grabbed her friends shoulder to move her away a bit, and shot him a dirty look. He responded by flipping her the finger. No one said he was a subtle person.

He bounded forward, aggrivated and eager to give them his back. The sudden appearance of noise startled him for a moment, waking him up from his thoughts, but he kept walking, down a bit, and settled his back against a cold concrete wall, sliding down into a sit, and drew his knees up to his chin. He stared ahead at nothing, lost.

Colton had been walking home for the night. Codi left him. Some guy they thought was hot down in the subway... Whatever. She'd probally have more fun than him right now. He didn't want to be here. Not here. But he had to be here. Something kept pulling him back. An unsolved murder, to be exact. Not unlike all 374 they had reported last year in this city and its suburbs alone. No blood, done with a small circular wound to the neck. Punture wounds. Didn't matter. They never found the real murder site with the blood. All they found was the dumped body... Here.

This overpass. Not really here, more... Down below. He spotted a boy rush down. Murderer? Don't jump to conclusions. Ok, so he wouldn't jump... But walking wasn't a bad thing. He followed the kid down, wide golden brown eyes showing pain and fear. His lips a pursed tight, making him look more stern that fearful and hurt, which was enough to give the man of 5'9" height enought to look like a force to reckon with.

He stood looking at the boy. No... He wasn't the murderer. It was just a kid. And a sadened kid. No. That wasn't the murderer. But him... The one cloaked in black with shaded flaming hair. He was so pale. So unhuman. So murderer like. Colt couldn't help but let his mind race. There was enough of an imprint still there to see the body lying on the ground. It was so scary to him. It was so painful to him...

"You! Who are you? Why are you here?"

No quaver in his voice, though his eyes were enough to falsify his manly bravado. He was scared and hurt. And scared. The boy was before him, all but forgotten for the moment. He'd deal with him later.