''So this is Jump City...thought it would be a bit smaller.''

As a teen with an oversized, grey hoodie with the hood completely covering his face in shadow thinks about what he's going to have to say to persuade this girl, thoughts and memories flood through his head about conversations with women and how other people have always rejected him.

As the bus comes to a stop, he pulls out a forged signed photograph of a girl about his age. As he looks over the photo of Rachel Roth sitting in the gothic cafe that he'll start his search in, a slightly younger goth boy sits next to him. The stranger tilts his head at him and smirks, the human is simply ignored however.

''She's cuter in person.''

''Hmm?'' He looks up from the photo.

''Raven. She's pretty hot huh?'' He said, leaning in closer.

Admittedly, he agreed with him, on a varying level. ''She's more beautiful than 'hot' as you say.''

''Whatever... Name's Goth.'' Goth sits up and extends his hand to the half-demon..

Despite some clawed finger tips, he gladly shakes his hand. ''Dark.''

''Nice...Where you from?'' Goth leans back on the leather bus seat.

The hooded teen replied immediately. ''Portland, Oregon. I came here to...research some things.''

''Alright, cool...'' The bus comes to yet another stop.

''How many bloody stops are on this daft bus?'' Dark hissed under his breathe.

''Dunno, but this one's mine. See ya round.'' The black clad teen got up and walked away.

As Goth leaves, Dark takes a look at a poster of the bus's stops. ''This day just gets better and better.''

As the bus takes off for another distant stop, a Jamaican woman and her son take the seat across from Dark. The woman's son is continuously beating his mother in the head with a foam sword. She sighs as she tries to relax for a minute without losing her cool.

Dark smirks to himself as he watches the boy enjoy himself. He rolls up his hoodie sleeve, looks to see if anyone is watching, bites at the exposed flesh, and lets the blood fall to the cold floor. Once enough has pooled together, he manipulates the puddle to move across the bus, under the woman and her rambunctious child's seat, up the bus wall, and stop at the window opposite of Dark's cloaked face.

He rolls down his hoodie sleeve, hiding a healed wrist, and holds his hand at the direction of his wall-crawling blood. He grits his teeth and quickly the blood dries to form a crude, reflective, crimson image of Dark. After he finishes his 'mirror', Dark waits for the boy to get bored of beating his mother's head with a toy sword. Five minutes pass, the five more, then finally the brat turns his head to look at a favorite toyshop of his, but instead sees an image of glowing eyes underneath a hood covering a teen's face. The teen brings his pointer finger to his lips and makes a 'be silent sign.'

With that idiotic problem solved, Dark reaches under the seat and pulls out a common hiking backpack. Unzipping it, he peers inside to check that his supplies are still there. Ever since leaving Portland, Dark has been on high alert in case something triggers his demonic form. Seeing that everything is in order, he stands up and walks to the front of the bus.

''Stop here, please.'' He asked calmly.

Randy, the driver of this bus for forty years looks at this punk wanting him to stop in the middle of traffic. ''I'll stop at the next stop.''

''Alright, thanks. I'll just wait here then.'' He remains standing next to the bus driver's seat.

Thinking to himself, ''What the Hell is this kid's problem, calling me sir. These punks probably changed the meaning to something like..'' Dark interrupts Randy thoughts by saying that it's a lovely day. Randy smiles at the fact that he can see his next stop.

''Thank you!'' The teen says cheerfully.

''F*ck you too!''

''Okay...'' Dark has finally gotten off Randy's bus and is now heading to the Gothic Cafe five blocks down the road. As he runs to his destination, Dark notices the people of Jump City. They seem happy, back in Portland people were happy, but this was one of the first times Dark was able to walk, or should I say run, along humans without them criticizing his non-human half.

After dodging two taxicabs, a mother with her three kids, and a truck, Dark finds himself in the exact spot he wanted. A comfy seat, possibly a good book, and, if he waited long enough, a chance to see Raven.

As he steps inside the cafe, he sees that only a few people are actually customers here. ''Good, less people to worry about.'' After finishing a rather bloodsoaked thought, he makes his way to the nearest table. Sitting on the metal wire chair's pillow, he pops his neck to relieve some tension. He rests his arms on the table and then rests his head on his arms.

''Can I help you sir?'' A red haired girl wearing jeans, sneakers, and a ''Welcome to Gothic Cafe.'' shirt looks at Dark like he's a stain on an old dress.

''I'll just take a hot tea for here.'' He yawns.

''Whatever.'' The girl walks off to grab a kettle of hot water and some tea packets. Dark looks around to see if anyone has entered, turns out everyone, besides the staff, left. '' I'm going to need to get a hotel room or something. Stupid bus seats give ya no support.''

The server walks back to Dark's table with the tea packets in her pocket and a steaming kettle on a plastic tray. Halfway to Dark, the girl's foot catches a stray chair leg. The kettle spills hot water on her hand and she immediately throws the tray away, of course it just has to head straight at Dark's head.

''Owowowowowowow!''

''You ok?''

''No! I just burnt my hand on that stupid pot!''

Dark's completely drenched in boiling water, steam rolling off in waves, and the girl is still complaining about her thumb. ''You know, I think I'll just leave...'' Dark stands up and walks out the door with steam issuing from his hooded face like smoke from a volcano.

''Hey, what about my tip!''