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No matter where he treads, the reactions are all the same. A lone being that identifies as human in form approaches several others with a aura seeping through his body. To everyone he encounters or attempts to approach, he is a large red flag this afternoon. No rage emits from each turn down, no emotional spectrum is highlighted, it's simply comfort over opinion. He isn't lost, for he has no home. He isn't starving, for he has no appetite. He is craving the words of someone brave enough...to point him to the nearest bar. 

"Assassin" A man mutters and scurries away.

"Heretic" another says retreating.

"Civilian" the authorities called him. There is a simple exchange of words between the masked man and the guards of justice, then after a finger point towards the north, they part ways. An hour of travel and the masked man is at it again, searching for another guide, he asks questions about directions to several landscapes, makes his way there, and continues on. No GPS, just plain old fashioned touring. 

"This is where out of work masters go?" He says to a random woman passing him by at a monument. The strangers keep themselves complacent. "Isolation" is the nickname his inner demon has given him. All of his hard work has led him to being dismissed from school, out of a job, and now on the road seeking a new course. His latest breakthrough has yet to undergo tests. He is very eager to demonstrate his power...but to what cause?

A white wooden bench in the middle of the town. A nice place for him to unclip his "Dark Knight Awakens" book from the back of his belt and start his first chapter this sunny afternoon.

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Hours pass the more he sunk into the contents of the detective. The way the character formulates his actions as if they were all destined to fail, the longevity of the decisions to come prepared to every situation, and the devotion to justice...it resonates with him on an spiritual level. This fictional character is who he needs to save his reputation and yet, judging by the characters littered throughout the world, he will never find anyone to stand by his side and help him become a flawless master. 

"Not with this much dirt on my name." The book closes, his left arm flexes, and he places two fingers onto his nose bone just below his eyebrows. 


<"I gotta be the villain for a bit. Forgive me sister. For I may shame the family name once again.">

Xrd stands, bending himself backwards until his back cracks. He leans forward and stretches his fingertips to his toes, does a squat, and bounces from one foot to another. Loosening his body up for the next step in his plan, he sits back down onto the bench and extends his arms out in front of him, fingers spreading to release pressure held within, his hands lower to stop just to hover above his knees. This causes a gust of energy to blow over in front of him, revealing what looks to be a instrument's outline encased in flame like energy for an instant...then it disappears.

<"It's dangerous to leave a powerful man to his thoughts.">

With a single finger pressing down, Xrd could hear the sound of music in his ear....and could feel the plates beneath him shifting....his energy signature entraps them earth, this is not to be confused with legitimate element manipulation, his energy only builds a path, it does not force shifting. This is akin to digging a hole for water to flow. Whatever he had building up, will become his greatest effort to become recognized. 

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