The file had been thin, but compelling enough. For five consecutive nights, reports surfaced about a strange ripple at Starlight, a fancy restaurant in the city. Diners left speaking of sudden clarity, a warmth that wasn't on the menu. Others wrote reviews of a volatile atmosphere spreading through the entire establishment. People complaining of the staff being rude, condescending. Those same staff reported as jovial, carefree another night. Cipher knew better than to dismiss it as coincidence; moods did not bend so neatly without someone tugging strings. If the effect truly stretched for hours at a time, then the source wasn't a passing customer. It was an employee.

Which made Starlight the perfect hunting ground for anomalies. Those have been on his list for some time. The oddities that people shun in this city at times are the very foundation of what he is attempting to build. Something beyond the grasp of humanity. Something earth shattering, poignant in power. Small minded individuals never do understand the full extent to which science can be taken. Only a handful would agree. Those are the ones to seek.

Cipher stepped through the glass doors with a reservation. He didn't need his gifts to notice the subtle hum in the air. Patrons leaned closer, their voices softer, the arguments he expected in a cramped space replaced by languid laughter. The corner of his mouth ticked upward as he was escorted to a candlelit VIP table, already dissecting the invisible current flowing through the room. A waitress approached, her smile a glimpse into the calmer side he read in several reviews. Opposite of more scathing complaints. "Hello and welcome to Starlight. I'm Sherry. And I'll be your server this evening."

"Sherry," he repeated, forming a calm smile despite his mind drifting. The surrounding people. Chatter. Laughs. The noise of humans milling, and mingling in their insignificant little spaces. Always an amusing thing to witness. For someone looking for something special. "I'll have a water while I browse the menu." Opening the laminate tableau of cuisine felt more like picking which bougie bitch he'll be today.

"Marius!" in the kitchen the chef, Jacques, yelled over his shoulder. "You're serving a VIP table. A dean from a renowned university. No burning scallops. No withered garnish. Make it look like Gordon Ramsay or don't show your face tomorrow!" @opvlyte

The sterile hum of the fluorescent lights filled the corridor of Elmira like a nervous pulse. Cipher's polished shoes struck the concrete with deliberate rhythm, as he passed a row of reinforced cell doors. The faint scent of antiseptic, and singed metal still clung to the air. A souvenir from their newest resident. He paused at one particular window, and angled his head toward the narrow pane. Inside, Sage Montclair resided. The scorch marks on the cell's far wall told their own story. Enough for him to study her in silence, gaze sharp but almost paternal. Like a scientist examining a specimen he found promising rather than dangerous.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried that same unsettling calm he was famous for. Deliberate affectation, measured by means of presenting what he wanted to present. "Miss Montclair?" he questioned, her name rolling from his tongue as if they were old acquaintances. Yet, today is the first day. "Forgive the security here. They were a little worried you might melt their faces off. Comes with the territory, I'm afraid." A lazy sort of humor realistically; he continued more professionally. "Your parents told me you were, and I quote, 'a monster we're unable to handle'. I find that rather dramatic, but I expect no less from people who don't understand. And I would love to understand, Miss Montclair." || @blvckvelvct