A lone figure sat on a worn brown sofa in a darkened apartment, his features hardly visible from the blinking of a small T.V. on the far wall. It was tuned to a local news channel where a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman sat relaying the events of the past few days, the figure watching her intently.
"In other news...a string of murders has local Police on the hunt for a serial killer. Police believe the killer to be a worker at a local warehouse, as the first string of murders involved several warehouses guards. It is still unknown at this time if the murderer acted alone. Police denied any further statements." The camera cut to an older, balding meteorologist and the figure quickly lost interest and clicked off the T.V. He stood up and walked to the door of his lackluster apartment, grabbing a white and red patterned hoodie and slipping it on. He made sure to zip the jacket up before he left, taking care to keep the P99 strapped to his chest hidden. As the figure stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind him, his features became visible in the dull yellow light radiating from the fixtures attatched to the bare plaster wall coated in drab green paint. The figure was a young man in his late teens, with charcoal gray and black hair in a "faux hawk" style. His pale green and gold eyes were framed by a face with hard angles, a set jaw, and three days worth of stubble. He strode out into the hall and down to the lobby, casting a sideways glance at the frail older lady seated at the desk, her green and black uniform almost blending in with the ugly wall. She looked up from her computer screen hardly long enough to greet him,
"Good day, Mr. Connor." The figure nodded and didn't reply as he stepped out into the bustling city. The clerk huffed at the lack of his response, but quickly resumed her game of solitare. The figure hardly made it seven steps before a voice called out after him,
"Well well, if it isn't the sun God himself! How ya doin' Apollo?" Apollo grinned at his friend from the local Stargazer tribe, one of the few people who actually knew Apollo's true identity as a Garou.
"I'm alright Troy. Have you heard the news lately?" Troy shook his head and fell into step next to Apollo, dwarfing him with his near six foot six stature.
"C'mon Apollo, ya know I don't watch that stuff. He paused, "And before you ask, no. No, I do not want to know about it." Apollo just shrugged and kept walking. Troy never cared much for the dealings of humans, after all he wasn't a Homid like Apollo. Troy cleared his throat,
"I imagine you're gonna go runnin'?" Apollo nodded, already stretching his arms, "Well before you do, I have to ask you to come home. At least once in a while wouldn't hurt. But, I already know your answer so I'm not gonna waste my breath. You do what you want, just be safe." Apollo nodded again, and Troy left without another word. "Home" was his way of referring to the tribe, but Apollo had never felt at home there, or anywhere else for that matter. His apartment was better, but he always felt best alone on a rooftop. Maybe that was just the Ragabash part of him coming out, he didn't know. He smiled inwardly at Troy's concern, but so long as he didn't crowd the usual meeting places of Kindred and refrained from hunting within the city, he was fine. Shifting was always a gamble, no matter where you went, but he was careful, at least to avoid human detection.
After a block or so, Apollo found one of his favorite Freerunning spots and started his usual routine. Sprint at the alley wall, run up the side, grab the pipe portruding from it's surface, jump from the wall and catch the edge of the roof on the other side of the alley, and pull up to the top. It took Apollo less than three seconds to do this. From here, he just lost himself in the run. He shot through alleys, past really fun construction sites, and through winding streets. At some sections he had to drop to ground level and weave through thick crowds or dart across streets, usually a string of angry curses followed him, sometimes even a cop who foolishly thought he could keep up with him, a quick use of his "Pathfinder" gift and a route through the madness opened up. The cop usually lost him when he ducked into a thick crowd and slowed down. He knew Freerunning the city would turn some heads, but it wasn't anything that regular humans didn't do, hell, it made him look more human. Apollo soon found himself on the roof of a club, Lush. The heavy beat rattled beneath his feet.
A few minutes later, his stomach now grumbling angrily, Apollo found himself at the entrance to Musso and Franks. This is a good of a place as any, he thought. He checked over himself, his clothes weren't dirty or rumpled and he wasn't sweaty. He brushed a bit of dust from his black cargo pants and walked inside. Musso and Franks was a popular spot and today was no different. The Grill area was packed, but the bar was...slightly less so. He found a seat roughly in the center of the bar with a good view of a T.V.
The bartender strode up to him, "Hey there, what can I start you off with?"
"I'll have the Ground Beef Sandwich with a glass of water, thank you." The bartender nodded and took down his order. His food was brought out shortly after and he casually started eating. Half watching the T.V. and half watching everyone around him.