From light to dark, as human morality be more akin to Dusk (Invitation Only)

The streets of Los Angeles were filled to the brim tonight. Celebration sang out through the streets as the entire city seemed to be alive in the dead of night. The cause for celebration? To celebrate. For some reason tonight the spirit of the party had spread through the streets. The bars and clubs were lit up and packed full. The parks housed conglomerates of people, and continued to snag in every stranger that passed. Matthew found it to be akin to that of a blood clot, and as every blood clot eventually would...this one would eventually cause tragedy.

   He walked the streets, beautiful and bright neon signs flashing, the small hum of an electrical buzz drowned out by the sounds of people cheering and laughing. Others parading around and simply singing out whatever drinking songs came to mind. Much to his dislike he couldn't help but notice that there were even children stumbling about with a parent. The irresponsible nature of mankind never ceased to amaze him. Every time Matt had seemed to gain hope in them, even be it only a rice grain, he'd quickly find someone else to boil and eat it. This place was a cancer to him, large bloody ulcer profusely discharging it's infectious contents in a disgusting splotch. Throughout the rumble and tumble of laughter and navigating the streets, stopping in care that one of the hundreds of drunk drivers in this area didn't have a prayer of hitting him.

  He may have been a civilian for the moment, but Matthew continued to walk ever prepared, ever perceptive. Every face he memorized detail. Every posture and stance. He knew what exactly was in everyone's hand as he passed, all without ever saying a word. He continued to walk, trying to make it home, trying to keep under the radar. As fate would have it, however, that wasn't in his cards. Not tonight. A sudden shot rang out through the air, several people gasped and many of them began to look around, but none of them moving from their comfortable little cliques. Matt took off running in the direction of the shot. Twisting, turning and navigating a labyrinth of alleyways, his shoes splashing through puddles of water as he sprinted, the rapid tapping of his feet becoming more pronounced. Eventually it all came down to a mostly unlit alleyway. Darkness covered most of it, save for a lone pale light that flickered on and off above and the pale orange lights of the city cast behind him.

  Out of breath he swallowed and beheld the visage laid before him. A man in a business suit, his wallet on the ground and pictures laid out, as if spilled or removed from it's square leather casing. The beautiful pictures of children and family were decorated, adorned and christened by  streaks of the man's blood, which splattered the alleyway before him, as small amounts of blood still oozed from the hole in the man's head.  Immediately looking over the man there wasn't too much Matthew didn't notice. The man was in handcuffs, he had been on his knees and he was shot in the back of the head, indicative from where the blood splattered and the exit wound. The smell of iron filled his nose, the faint echoes of movement in the nearby alleyways caressed his eardrum and his eyes began to dilate as he began to worry. His heart was racing, his hair sticking up on end as he tried to focus and center himself.

      The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, but he had to think quickly. did he risk waiting here and encountering a hero? Did he stay here and risk confrontation with the police? Sure it wasn't like he was in costume...but it was undesirable. Thinking quickly, he displaced his phone, tossing it up on a nearby fire-escape, hoping that nothing too important was disrupted. Then he took the phone form the man's pocket and went over to the side of the crime scene and slid himself down on the wall, knees pressed to his chest.  Fixing the beanie on his head and pushing his glasses up his nose, he folded his peacoat a bit tighter as he brought the victims' phone to his face and dialed 911. The sweat beading on his face and coating his back as his shirt began to bunch up uncomfortably.

   Deciding to stay may have been the death of him... but that remained to be seen. At least there were none of those heroes to worry about....yet...

Someone inevitably came, causing Matthew to lower the phone and swallow, feigning nervousness before taking in a shaky breath. It couldn't have been one of the nice guys either that were compassionate to someone whom just saw someone's head get blown off. Nope they just had to be one of the high-stress situation types over every little thing. Someone had been shot; Welcome to L.A this is not all that uncommon. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that it wasn't within either of their personal-imposed jurisdictions. When he was refered to as "You" and then was demanded his name he just remained shaken a bit, his breathing was off and his heart racing from the self-induced panic-like symptoms. Blinking frequantly and licking his lips he looked around as he started to tear up.

"I-I...I-uh. I'm I-We, no. We weren't even supposed to....no. No. I'm just. I wasn't supposed to even come this way. I just figured this would be quicker and I heard the noise I jumped and then he was." He put his forehead on his knees and began to breath in steadily, as if trying to calm himself down. He shook his head and closed his eyes, small tears beginning to fall. He honestly didn't give two shits about this guy, but if he was going to play the part he'd have to play it well.

"I don't even know what happened. We just...We were walking and...bang." He said as he began to shake a little, dropping the phone and leaning his head back, taking in a deep breath before staring right at Dusker and the body. It was true, he didn't answer Dusker's question, but that's for a good reason. No witness to a crime would ever trust a total stranger who just came up and began muttering things like "sniper bullet" to themselves without any form of identification. He actually just heard from a friend of his not too long that their friend actually found a superhuman carrying swords onto a plane and though he could get away with it just because he wrote "I'm a superhero" in sharpie on his license or whatever it was.

"Jesus man...I-I gotta call the cops." he said, partially expecting (and honestly hoping) the person would have enough of an idea to stop him, but if not then the damage would be done as is.

Well that certainly proved him wrong.. That's what he gets for jumping to assumptions. The guy jus had priorities that were a little jumbled up in Matt's eyes. Then again you have Humanity running around and all he does is blow the other bad guys up and leaves their victims there for the heroes to deal with. Perhaps priorities weren't the best thing to be debating within ones head at the moment. Of course he tried to start wiping his eyes with his sleeve and he stook the man's hand, getting an assist to stand.

"I just. God damnit... My name's Matt." He said before looking back to Dusker and clearing his throat. He was still shaking but h was trying to get himself back together, to seem like less of a train-wreck of emotions at that moment. "D-did you get anything? Anything that will help? It...It sorta sounded like shot was the same claiber as a 9 milimeter." He offered up. Of course the only reason he knew this was because he was a vigilante that had been doing this shit entirely too long. Caliber of guns all had different sounds, and each one could be picked up on if one was initiated into what they needed to listen for. Sharp sense of hearing helped too. "Should we...stay for the cops?" the question was almost genuine, but then again he really didn't want to. The more they stayed the more it looked like they had done it.

Flipping the man's phone open he began to take pictures of the area around them, trying to be a little discrete, but not overly. Dusker was too busy searching the man anyway to probably notice. He then moved onto the contacts and the last phone numbers that had been seen. What he saw shocked him a little. Meanwhile Dusker had found a neatly folded piece of paper inside the man's wallet that read;

TO: The People
BY: The People

Despite the fine writing skills the addressing was written in blood, if there had been any guess it was safe to say it was the victims. Dusker would find that the man's knees were drenched and there had been absolutely no sign of struggle. The handcuffs had something written in Latin on them, the words circling around the victim's wrists. And of course there had been bootprints closeby, ones that did not appear to be like the man's shoes, not the boots anyone nearby had been wearing.

Quod fit iustitia . Alligata est legi . Averni per hominem.

"Uhm. H-hey. It looks like he had some recent calls..." He showed them to Dusker. The most recent call was a blcoked number that went directly to voicemail. He began to try and punch in some passwords, wondering what was to come of this.