Prologue

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Bright city lights illuminate a dark sky as traffic whizzes through the busy streets and avenues. Those on the sidewalk have to keep their heads low in order to avoid being blinded by the vehicle headlights. The skyscrapers are no different, as even in the late hours near midnight, there are still people who have to work; whether it be for their shift or for overtime is not a concern for the figure walking below their workplace. 

Dressed lightly in jeans and a sweatshirt with the hood pulled over, the figure pays no attention to his surroundings. With his hands in his pockets, he doesn't even know it's raining until he stops near a crosswalk. He lets out a sigh, and reluctantly opens up an umbrella, having to take out one of his hands from his pockets. A hand that quickly grows cold in the chill, city air. 

Slinging a backpack over his shoulder, he quietly hums a song as he waits for the signal to turn. After what feels like forever, the light changes, and he starts moving into the streets. He gets about a third of the way there when someone starts shouting behind his back. However, he doesn't hear them, even as their shouts increase in noise, frequency, and... panic. 

For you see, a light did change; the figure was not wrong about that. However, it wasn't the pedestrian signal that changed, but the traffic light. As such, the poor dude walks into the middle of the road when oncoming traffic has the green light. His head turns to the right and his eyes widen as the bright lights from the truck are nearly on top of him. He sucks in a breath and does he best to leap back to where he came from. 

His world goes black. 

...Because he closed his eyes! What else could it have been? 

Impacting hard on the sidewalk, he rolls onto his side and does his best to get up, despite his elbow hurting like crazy. The truck that nearly ran into him honks its horn as the driver continues on. He thanks the person that gave him the warning, and decides to turn around and take a different route. 

Arriving at the subway, he pays for a ticket and is tempted to play with the turnstile (the subway security gates that can be flipped back and forth). Thinking better of it, he decides to move on, and once again finds himself waiting for his ride. Walking closer to the tracks, the subway is crowded, though not as crowded as it would have been during daylight. 

The figure doesn't go near the tracks because he likes to, but because it's basically a habit for him to not sit down at the benches, since those are usually filled up. Granted, this is a special case as he shouldn't be up this late either, but some things are just hard to break. He takes a deep breath as he closes the distance.

Oh, perhaps a bit too close. 

Hearing a chugging noise getting louder and louder, the figure realizes that his nose is practically sticking over the caution tape and the train is less than a 100 feet away. What's even worse is that his elbow, the one that hit the sidewalk, is also sticking out like a sore thumb. He pulls the same move he used to avoid the truck, but he knows that this train is faster than the truck. He sucks in more air. 

And his world goes black.

...Because he closed his eyes again! Seriously, people aren't that slow!

The edge of the train nearly misses him as he almost loses his balance. Gathering himself together, he stands straight and pretends as if nothing has happened. Absolutely nothing. However, he can't shake the feeling that those boarding the train with him are giving him weird looks; looks that say, "What is up with this emo teenager?" 

It wasn't his fault that he liked wearing mostly black! Also, he was still cold, so he didn't see a reason for him to take off his hood. But then again, he didn't look like that, did he? He once thought looking like a gangster was cool, until he saw someone else do the same thing. From that moment on, all he could think when he saw the sweatshirt he wore daily, everyday of the week, for 4 weeks a month, for 12 months a year, was the word cringe

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