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Warakai continued to follow him stopping along the way to pick up a number of supplies canned foods and the like wrapping it up in his length of canvass. He as nonchalantly as possible followed him into they alleyway placing his hand on his halfsword should it be needed proffering to not take the risk of revealing his abilities in a place like this.

What happened?
One moment he was at his brother's tombstone, his slate about to be clean, and then the next moment, Mike sees a very burned and very dead man on his brother's grave.

Why did...? How...?
Sure, while Mike despised those on the street who purposefully threw away their lives, he had some compassion for those who had no choice. But never, even with the ones who wasted themselves away, did he ever mean any physical harm. Nonetheless, elemental harm.

No no no no no no
He couldnt take it back. Whatever was inside him that lashed out was not going to take it back. Mike may have been emotionally unstable, but it was still not a solid enough reason to kill someone innocent. That is, as innocent as one can be.

Mike pushed himself to get as far away as possible. Never has his newly found 'gift' gave him any grief like it did now. Now he really needed to escape. Mike cursed and cursed in his head as he ran, hot tears running down his face, the air sweeping by cooling them.
His hearing was extra sharp, especially when people started yelling for help and screaming at him. The Empire may or may not be on his tail. He hoped they werent.
Another reason to leave.

Mike eventually came to a halt, panting and wheezing. His throat was hoarse and dry and scratchy, his lungs and chest on fire. As he kept swallowing and catching his breath, he looked up.
The horizon was a dark and brooding blue. He was at the coast.

A tingle rand down the back of his spine. His mind began racing now. Lucien's abilities were found out. There was only a few options.

"I figured as much." he said pulling out a pocket watch. "Now then. I have only one thing to ask you." he pressed down on the time dial. Immediately underneath the silver lid the hour and minute hands aligned and the sides of the watch condensed in on itself acting as a hilt. The watch projected a large Minute-blade and a short Hour Blade on Opposite ends. He turned towards Warakai and held a defensive stance.

"Are you an enemy?"

"You know what they say, 'when hiding a shadow, stay in the dark.'" replied Lucien. He stared down at his opponent, his intimidation had no affect on him. When you survived in the city all your life, you found better things to fear. "Living in this city is the most unbearable, but most desirable place to survive in."

The sun was only starting to set, but it seemed like it was dusk already. Mike blamed the smog.
The city ended right at the craggy rocks that led down to the beach. If Mike had gone the way he planned before he visited his brother's grave, he would have guards to deal with, most likely. They liked keeping people in. As long as people were in, no one was bothered.

Mike tugged on his strap over his shoulder, staring down at the jagged earth that sloped down into the sand. It was about fifty feet to the sand, and Mike really didn't want to trip on the way down and have his brain poked by the rust-colored rocks. For the hundredth time, he took note that they were sharp.

Mike stepped down, finding some stability on a larger rock. Then he took another, and another, slowly and steadily. He held onto rocks next to him for some support. Mike could feel the rocks push into the bottom of his foot, hard and painful. Tennis shoes weren't the best idea, but Mike had to travel light. Then there was the fact that he was a murderer.

Mike was about three-fourths of the way down now, about ten or so minutes passed. He felt like a wimp for going so slow, but he didn't want to start his journey off with broken bones or puncture wounds. Although, if he just ran down the slope, he might have been able to avoid getting hurt and leaving faster... or the prior and killing himself if he took a wrong step.
As he was thinking of this, he did take a wrong step. His ankle bending completely to the side, and then some, Mike completely lost his balance and tumbled down the rocky slope the rest of the way. Lucky for him, it wasnt too long of a tumble. But it was still a tumble.

Face, arms, legs, chest, eye, forehead, shoulder, crotch, thighs, hands... They all took a beating. Mike's skull bounced off the last of the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, and he rolled into the sand, belly up. He lay there, knocked out cold, on the beach, the waves seeming to lull him into a deeper sleep...

It was night time now. The moon peeked through the clouds and smog which filled the sky, its gray beams cracking through the dark. Mike had been out for about an hour, and now he swam closer and closer to consciousness. His eyes fluttering open. he just stared at the sky for a moment, then the pain made itself known. Grimacing, squinting his eyes as hard as he could, he tried to hold in his anguish. Moments later, he exhaled, and his whole body ached. His head hurt the most. It had taken most of the tumble, and most of the rocks.

Mike didnt want to move. He couldn't even feel one of his arms. But, slowly and reluctantly, he sat up, his head and back screaming in pain. Mike carefully fingered his forehead, feeling over the giant lump that had made its home there and it burned to the touch. Taking his hand away, flecks of dried blood and plasma stuck to his fingers. Mike swallowed, starting to peel off his jacket. Every muscle it took to do the job burned.
Mike got one arm of his jacket off, and that's all he really needed. He let his sleeve slide off his other arm.
It was dark, so he carefully dug out his small flashlight he kept with him in his pack. Turning it on, he could dark bruises and several cuts and gouges. Most of his arm was black and blue and green and red. The worst part was that he couldn't flex his fingers of move his arm elbow down. He saw that his other arm was not as badly cut or bruised, but it was the same color. Thankfully, Mike could still move his legs and everything else, but that didn't mean they didn't scream with pain.

Then Mike busted out laughing. His chest and gut protested, but he kept laughing. He pictured himself bouncing down the rocky slope like some rag doll. He looked freakin' hilarious in his mind. Mike mentally commended himself for living through it, and for looking stupid doing so. And then he realized he was really hurting from his hysterical laughing.

"Just what I needed," He chuckled to himself, wiping a hot tear from his eye. He was glad no one, especially the beach combing guards, didn't find him. But he was troubled about his injured arm. He didn't have much medical experience, even with a brother in the army. Mike wasn't going back though. He was not going back up that hill, and he was not going to mess with the guards. Just then, Mike's eye caught a tiny boat not far from where he was. As he looked at it longer, he noticed it had no sails or oars. The ship looked alien to him, like it was made of wood. This ship obviously was not from around here, but he saw no one tending to it. Mike knew how to sail, as he used to go all the time with his brother. He smiled.
Mike had a plan.

Finally feeling like she was alone, Jessie looked around the first room. Despite the brick exterior, the inside was mostly wood, as ascertained by the wood paneling, the hardwood floors, and the wooden furniture. In fact, the only thing in the living room that wasn't wooden was a large plaid sofa. Sighing, she took a seat on the couch, and proceeded to lay on it. Instantly, she felt a cold something on back of her legs and she arched her back on the sofa on instinct. Reaching for the source of the cold, she remembered that it was only her weapons. Thinking it wasn't such a good idea to lay on them anyway, she retrieved them from the dual holsters on the back of her thighs that were connected by crossed belts. Gingerly, she layed both pistols on the coffee table next to her. Finally, she was able to appreciate the comfyness of the couch. She also wondered why the drunk man hadn't passed out here instead of on the floor, but that was no matter. What did matter was whose place it was. By the looks of it, no one had been living here for awhile. Shrugging, Jessie decided that this would be her new hideout. If someone discovered her, it would be no matter. She was more than capable of defending herself.

Warakai smiled "well you don't look like you would be worth much on a ship, but I could use a little help, although I wouldn't call the air at the coast fresh" he said still smiling.