<div style="text-indent:1em;">Hardich always found it difficult to keep himself contained during moments like these, when he knew something was about to happen. To him, in his very narrow perception, most things were never truly in focus. He lived his life in a blur, and nothing held actual weight until he was inside of himself. But now, for a few moments, he began to observe.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">Though he didn't look at any of these things, he could see them. The sky wasn't blue, as he often remembered it as, it was actually gray. Thick puffy clouds, like ash covered marshmallows microwaved together in such a way that they seemed to roll into a ginormous cluster and yet still pertain part of their shape. When he stood, he moved past the woman Mary. Now that he could see, Hardich recognized her hair as actually curled into very loose ringlets that bounced when she moved and only a slight bit fizzy from the outside moisture. Her complexion wasn't actually perfect, and though she was young, her creamy skin had a few spots of sun damage. This, in his opinion, did very little to actually blight her appearance. Even with her curled hair, she reminded him of someone he might find on a beach, trying very hard to tan, but never quite able to acquire the color. And though his mind almost never spoke to his masculinity, he thought that she would be very pleasing in the new micro-bikini fashion. It was her tall, and yet robust stature that exemplified her generous bust and pronounced hips so that one might forget about the curled hair and see her somewhere on the warm California shore line.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">Even as his hand broke connection with the rough burgundy brick wall on the left, his mind stored the information excitedly. He was instantly reminded of at least thirteen different buildings in this area with the exact kind of stone, and he knew, because he'd touched and felt at least half of them, and they were all the same.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">However, this feeling was cut as soon as the girl passed the left wall. The monster in his mind, the thing that lurked there, pulled back on his soul and he returned to the fight. It was almost like a small cut on a thumb or foot. It's always there, and it always hurts just a little bit and it always causes irritation, but it's never really noticed. Nor is it noticed when it's gone. Only when the wound is laid open or when it truly burns is it given attention.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">In the wake of the release of a masterful machine, held back for an entire life time, an entire profile on this mysterious passing girl was gathered and stored. He would remember it at will for the rest of his life, as if he could simply conjure a snapshot out of thin air.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">This was important, because as he crossed the distance of ten feet in the unsavory alley way and looked over either corner, she was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to sprint down the street, to call the police, to do something, but it was impossible. Some part of him knew this, and in a profound way. So he turned back, his vision stored away somewhere, and he talked off his companions, explained to them that for a small moment he thought he may have seen someone he knew, an old friend, but that he'd been mistaken. For how could they understand, he thought to himself as he sat back down on the ground.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">So, she's a ghost for a little while longer.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">In the mental space he sunk back into, Hardich took time to file away what he knew. The girl; straight blonde hair, pale blue eyes, large ample bust, thin, blue jeans, jacket with golden buttons, black boots, cream peach lips, and a very taunting smile. In his mind, she floated next to the idea of the fabric, opposite the more complex ideas he had about Vexis.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">He didn't know how long he sat there, but when he returned to peer through his eyes, his companions were watching him. While he sat on the ground opposite the single dumpster, which he sometimes registered as smelly, Mary was squatting with a slightly concerned look on her face and Max stood at her side with his arms crossed. Hardich was sure they were bored and annoyed with his behavior, though it was likely Max busied himself with his computer, and he faintly remembered Mary leaving at one point "to do something actually productive". He only just had time to notice it was a slight bit brighter than before when Max began to speak.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"You were sitting there, perhaps asleep, perhaps not, for quite some time."</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">"We were unsure if it was safe to stop you...from whatever it is you were doing," Mary added. "We heard tell of something very important," She continued, standing and closing their distance and offering a hand. It took a moment, as he was hesitant, but Hardich took it and was soon standing.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">Max continued where she left off, turning to walk out of the ally with his two companions, "Yes, very important. We have another lead on the telepathic. Unfortunately, as the Supreme was resolute that you would have our undivided company until you were awake, it may be cold. Mary discovered before I, much to my surprise, an event that took place around nine or ten in the morning. A school teacher was found in an ally way, not very far from her place of work, the Matrice Town Primary School. She's in the hospital now, developing the exact same condition as the man found in this ally way. It took some convincing, but the spectacle hasn't been released to the news or to the majority of the general public. The Supreme feels it would only be counterproductive to us to have any actual coverage on the event. However, while the scene has been secured, I feel we may take the most of this situation and go directly to the school before class is let out. Perhaps we'll find something there."</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">Hardich couldn't agree more. He knew exactly who he was looking for.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">A quick internet search yielded instructions to the school, and it was only a ten minute drive by taxi. They arrived at around two in the afternoon, an entire hour before any of the classes were let out. The building wasn't large, and they entered through what they assumed to be the main entrance. They were correct, as they immediately greeted by a very welcoming receptionist, of whom provided directions to the classroom of  Mrs Wolleri. When they found the room, like all others, the door was solid without any windows.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-indent:1em;">Hardich knocked.</div>