[Soon after Leader Of The Pack]
Today, a blonde.
A man with golden hair stood in front of the mirror in a hair salon, snipping away at the frayed ends of a customer's equally warm-toned mane. The woman in the chair beneath him grinned at her reflection in the mirror, eagerly texting her friends about her new style. The hairstylist had washed, dyed, layered, and cut her locks quite professionally, and was well deserving of a pretty penny for it. Of course, that was typical for one of the most high end salons in the entire city- anyone who went there flaunted money to show for their vanity.
Though he never imagined himself doing this type of work, he didn't mind the pay at all.
"Thank you, Mr. Jules," his client gushed, standing up to pay. "How long have you been doing this? It looks amazing, as usual."
The man shrugged. "A few years now. It's been a passion since childhood."
His lie slipped right through.
"Well, you've clearly found your niche," the woman informed him. "I'm going to hand in my money up front, alright? Cheers!"
The hairstylist watched as she left, enjoying the feeling of being appreciated. He'd only been doing this work for a few months, but it was true- he'd found his niche. He never knew he had a talent for cutting hair. He made a mental note to add it to his imaginary resume, a list that contained other odd jobs like car washing, skyscraper window wiping, plumbing, retail service, and even pet training.
Anything was better than his life in Hong Kong.
John Scarecrow, currently going by the name Tony Jules, was building hatred right along with his job skills. It had been a few years since his debaucle with Rex's gang in China, but the effects remained to this day. Having any social support torn away from him, he had been forced to work odd jobs for years on end, removing any trace of innocence he had left. While the others were tended to by Quarry, he had to fend for himself- food, medical bills, travel, and all.
Meanwhile, the newspapers had informed him that Rex was something of an EVO superstar, especially after saving the United Nations meeting after some EVO takeover. The boy was taken care of by scientists who obviously would care better for him than most doctors, and no doubt didn't have to worry about food shortages from time to time.
John scoffed. Life just wasn't fair, but that didn't mean he couldn't do anything about it. If anything, now was the time for revenge.
The ringing of the bell at the front of the store pulled him from his thoughts, directing his attention to a new customer. He raised a brow at her attire- she didn't quite look like the upper class folk who usually wandered into the salon. A small, red overall- like dress on top of blue undershirts and leggings didn't scream "high fashion." Her hair wasn't exactly mainstream either- pitch black locks fading into a crimson hue cascaded behind her shoulders, adding to the goth look accentuated by her dark lips.
"Hey," she greeted him, walking straight towards his direction. "Um, a friend told me you could re-dye my hair and cut off split ends and stuff. I guess you're really recommended here. Where do I pay for it?"
John smiled politely, doubting that someone like her could afford even a basic snip in this store. Nonetheless, he guided her over to a new, clean chair.
"I suppose that would cost around one hundred and twenty dollars," he informed her. "You pay up front afterwards. I assume you have the money?"
To his surprise, she produced a rather crisp wad of bills from her pocket.
"Oh- uh, that's wonderful," he remarked, spinning the chair for her to sit in. "Here, have a seat. What's your name?"
"Circe," the teen sighed, slipping into the chair and facing her reflection. "Gosh, I'm so tired. I just need a break from it all, y'know?"
John nodded absentmindedly, then picked up a pair of scissors. "I can relate. What's got you down?"
"A boy."
"I hear you," the hairstylist murmured. "Some boys are... too much trouble."
Circe cracked a small smile. "Right? They can be really stubborn sometimes. You try to rationalize with them, but nothing gets through their head."
"Mhm."
"And it sucks because I have a chance with this guy. I really do. But he won't see my point of view on things, and doesn't like the people I, uh, associate with."
"I see."
"Well, I'm going to track him down one way or another. Yeah he's kind of close minded for now, but I'm going to break through to him. He'll see that the world isn't as black and white as he thinks he is. I'm coming to get you, Rex. Just hang in there."
At this, John paused, his scissor blades poised midair. "His name is Rex?"
"Uh, well... yeah," Circe stammered, not realizing she'd been voicing all of her thoughts aloud. "You wouldn't believe the half of it, though."
"Surprise me."
"You're really wouldn't, though. I mean, there's probably a ton of girls out there saying they feel some connection with him. And Rex... lets that go to his head. That's something I definitely don't like about him."
"Rex Salazar?" John randomly guessed, aware that it was a name many people had, and likely not who she was referring to. During his stints in South America, he'd met quite a few Rexes, in fact. One more wouldn't make a difference, and besides, what was the likelihood that some girl off the streets actually had a connection with his enemy? The idea was-
"Yeah, Rex Salazar," she muttered. "Guess he's a big shot celebrity even all the way upstate, huh."
"He is," he agreed. "You and every other teen girl out there treat him like a pop star."
"It would never go anywhere. He can't commit."
"I don't doubt that. He's probably too busy trapping EVOs to even think of having a love life."
Circe raised a brow. "You sound kind of bitter, you know. Is something wrong?"
"I guess it's my turn to tell you that you wouldn't believe the half of it."
"Hmph. Surprise me."
The blonde shrugged. "Alright, you asked for it. To start it off, he's not the hotshot everyone thinks he is. He used to be in a gang, actually. The kind that's deep into petty crime, tattoos and all."
The girl stuck out her tongue playfully. "Yeah, right. Do you know how stuck up his sense of "justice" is? It's so bad that he can't even see both sides- my side."
"He's like a bulldozer," John insisted. "Leaves a mess wherever he goes. He and I have some personal issues, and someday, I'm going to settle them. You're not the only one who thinks he needs to sense knocked into him."
"Are you just making this up as you go?"
"Aren't you the one who's trying to get close to him, or something? Just how realistic is that?"
Circe's face went blank for a moment. "Oh. Yeah."
John set the scissors down the grabbed a bottle of pre-dye bleach, then slipped on and extra pair of gloves. "Reality hits hard, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," the teen responded. "But y'know... when someone in this city says they don't like Rex, they say it's because he's an EVO, and that EVOs can't be trusted. You had a way more different reason."
"Well, I'm not anti EVO."
A smile formed on Circe's face. "Really? I like that. Tell me what you think about EVOs if you're not against them."
"Hmm... they're not all bad. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for EVOs, but I know some are insane. Then again, I could say the same about humans, so I guess it evens out."
"That's great! I have the same views. Though I can't really say them much, especially in this city. Y'know, with EVOs causing a ton of damage everywhere. Not even Rex can save their reputation sometimes. And what's worse is he's really close to being anti-EVO himself."
The hairstylist scoffed. "He's betraying his own kind? Why am I not surprised?"
"Yeah, it freaked me out too. He fights anyone who's pro EVO, then says that Providence won't do anything bad to him because he's helping them. He's stuck in some fantasy land where working for people who hate us is better than working with us."
"Us?"
The girl paled. "I mean EVOs. Not us."
John raised a brow. "Okay."
"Yeah. So I just want to get it into his head that he's gonna be in huge trouble if he doesn't join me. Though, it's getting harder and harder to get anyone to join our cause. But that's because EVO's aren't trained to help humanity. My boss says they're like unrefined material that hasn't been processed and polished for us, but that if we can fix them up, humans will love EVOs."
"Whatever floats your boat," the blonde replied. "All I care about is finding out how to make contact with Rex. The rest will go down in history."
"I mean, if you wanna join our cause... I can help you with that," Circe suggested. "My boss has ways of doing it. We've had, uh, "talks" with Rex a lot."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah! Trust me. Our group gets a lot of attention from Rex and Providence because we're so pro EVO. If you want to take a shot at meeting up with him and you're not anti EVO, you should really come join us. It's pretty likely that you'll meet up with him face to face if you stick around long enough."
At this point, John's interest piqued. This wasn't the usual mindless small talk he made with his clients.
"Who's your boss?" he asked, spreading the bleach out carefully.
"He's... in Abysus."
The hairstylist racked his brains, trying to figure out where he had heard that name before. It wasn't too long ago that something happened regarding it, and though he didn't always read the news, he did try to pick up stories on his spare time just to exercise his literacy. After all, the magic of language is what helped him make his shapeshifter forms so convincing- looks were only half of the work.
But where had he heard of Abysus? It wasn't as if-
Oh.
"Isn't that the country that tried to use terrorism on the UN?" John asked hesitantly. "From what I heard, it was a wreck. Of course Providence would get involved."
"They got involved because they were trying to slow down progress!" Circe snapped, imitating her master's words. "We were trying to help everyone by showing them that EVOs are the future. But they fought us and won. Because Rex got involved."
"Sure you did. You don't look like some city destroying terrorist, you know."
"Want me to prove it? Come out of the store with me for a second."
The blonde shook his head. "I don't have time for acting out your tales."
"What if I pay you an extra hundred?" the teen offered, pulling a bill from her pocket and waving it temptingly. "C'mon. You sound like the type of guy we need."
That was a twist.
"Fine," John agreed. "Food doesn't pay for itself. What do you want me to do?"
"Just step outside with me. I'm gonna show you something."