[dino.]

>Raphael Acker || currently running like hell down the sidewalk || Open!<

A dark-haired boy dressed in a yellow sweater and a dark gray blazer slams open the doors to a downtown apartment building and books it down the street. The cord to his earbuds, plugged into a beat-up MP3-player jammed hurriedly into his front pocket, bounces up and down as he runs and smacks him right in the face as if a final “screw you”.

It’s eight o’clock in the morning. He’s late. Raphael Acker is LATE because his STUPID ALARM didn’t go off and he’s definitely not going to make it the New League Tower on time this morning. A fast-paced rock song kicks up its pace as Raph barely manages to dodge around another person. He shouts a hurried apology over his shoulder and puts on a burst of desperate speed.

And, what the heck, what a day to be late on. He’d overheard his dad talking as he'd grabbed a granola bar and dashed out the door, about those two people who had been murdered. The League was DEFINITELY going to want someone on that as soon as possible.

AND HE'S RUNNING LATE!!

He is SO screwed.