'Have I gone mad?', Jorah asked himself. The afternoon air held a warmth to it, yet chilled by the interior of the dark warehouse. Here he was again, snooping around something he had no buisness in... Well, that's what many people said, but Jorah was never one to use logic. Many people just wouldn't understand, he as a mutant born with some great power, and expected to hide it away. Not a chance. Especially with someone like That Man, stalking the streets.

Grendel Vanderbilt, A Mutant Serial Killer. This warehouse was most definitely his latest sight, the telltale signs of his strange mutation still at large. It was sickening, knowing that he was so close yet so far away.

Jorah light a fire upon his palm, holding it high to light the dark room. There upon the floor was a grim sight. Before him was gore, another poor soul who lay smashed upon the ground, mangled. A younger girl, her stomach slightly burned, but aside from that the majority of the damage done through concussive force. Shrapnel littered her body, noteably glass. She was missing one of her fingers. Typical, yet no clues on his gift. Jorah rubbed his face, grimacing at the grizzly sight before looking away. He couldn't help but gnash his teeth in frustration as the small fire in his palm began to burn a bright intense blue, the heat steadily rising in the room before the light suddenly went dim. The fire slowly leaving his hand to drift lazily in the air, as Jorah pulled out a notebook.

'Another victim; Just as I suspected, Grendel, left the county after the incident in Portland. His trail is cold here, though his typical calling card remains. He clearly learned something to lose his sloppy nature'.

Jorah sighed as he closed the journal. Another dead gifted. It was the fifth one in the past two months, and nothing seemed to change. Pointless. 'Why am I even doing this anymore?'.

With a disappointed huffed, he dialed '911', and sent in another anonymous tip. If the police refused to acknowledge the Rouge Mutant Killer, the least they could do was bury the poor girl. With his business concluded, he extinguished the flames above his head and left the warehouse to its dreary malevolence. That Man, he made his presence known once more.

"Grendel Vanderbilt, if I ever see you face again, I will melt it off", he growled to himself as he stepped out onto the street.

[Could be better, but I couldn't think of anything. It also give him a reason to interact with a bunch of High Schoolers... They have a Serial Killer after them now, and he wants to kill said Serial Killer. xD]