As they exited the alley and resumed their patrol, Elijah couldn't shake the man's words.
Monsters.
It was becoming a refrain in his mind, each repetition heavier than the last.
Visconti walked beside him, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.
Elijah looked at him, startled. "Thinking about what?"
"What that guy said," Visconti replied. "Calling us monsters."
Elijah hesitated, then nodded. "Doesn't it bother you?"
Visconti shrugged. "It used to. But I realized something a long time ago."
"What's that?"
"You can't change what people think about us," Visconti said, his voice steady. "All you can do is prove them wrong with your actions."
Elijah fell silent, mulling over his words.
As they reached a crowded marketplace, Markus gestured for them to spread out and keep watch.
The area was bustling with activity—vendors shouting, children laughing, and shoppers haggling.
Elijah stood near the edge of the crowd, his eyes scanning for anything unusual.
That's when he saw her.
A girl, no older than ten, standing near a fruit stall. Her clothes were ragged, and she clutched a small bag to her chest. Her eyes darted around nervously before she reached out and grabbed an apple from the stall.
The vendor turned, catching her in the act. "Hey! Thief!" he shouted, grabbing her arm.
The girl struggled, her eyes wide with fear.
Elijah acted on instinct. He stepped forward and placed a hand on the vendor's arm. "Let her go," he said firmly.
The vendor glared at him. "She's a thief!"
"She's a kid," Elijah replied. "Let her go, and I'll pay for the apple."
The vendor hesitated, then released the girl with a huff.
Elijah handed over a few credits, then crouched down to the girl's level.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently.
The girl nodded, clutching the apple tightly. "Thank you," she whispered before disappearing into the crowd.
As Elijah straightened, he felt Visconti's hand on his shoulder.
"Good job," Visconti said with a small smile.
For the first time that day, Elijah felt a flicker of warmth amidst the cold stares. Maybe, just maybe, they could prove the world wrong.
The sun was high in the afternoon sky, casting long shadows across the bustling streets of Sky City. The four patrolling cafets wandered from one restaurant to another, stomachs growling.
Their first stop, a cozy-looking diner on the corner, seemed promising. As they stepped inside, the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filled the air. Kieran's mouth watered as he eyed a plate of steaming pasta on display.
But as soon as they approached the counter, the owner's smile faded. "I'm sorry," she said curtly. "We're out of food."
Kieran frowned, glancing at the plates of food visible in the open kitchen. "You're out? But—"
Markus cut him off with a sharp look. "Let's go."
The others reluctantly followed him out, Visconti muttering under his breath.
The pattern repeated itself over the next hour.
Every time they entered a restaurant or café, the response was the same: a quick dismissal, often accompanied by an apologetic yet insincere smile.
"I'm sorry, but we're closed."
"We just ran out of food."
"We don't serve... special clients."
By the 14th rejection, Kieran's patience had worn thin. "This is insane!" he growled, throwing up his hands. "We're just trying to eat, not rob the place!"
"We've tried fourteen places," Kieran grumbled, his stomach growling loudly as if to emphasize his frustration. "Fourteen! And every single one of them just happened to be 'out of food'? Yeah, right."
Visconti sighed, rubbing his temples. "We're Espers, Kieran. You should've seen this coming."
"They don't care," Visconti said, his voice cold. "To them, we're not customers. We're a threat."
"I get that people hate us," Kieran snapped, his voice laced with irritation. "But they could at least be subtle about it. Do they really think we're dumb enough to believe they're all out of food?"
Elijah remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the ground. The weight of the morning's events—and now this—hung heavily on him.
Markus, their level 5 mentor, seemed unfazed as he led the group through the bustling streets. His calm demeanor didn't change, even after the fourteenth rejection.
"This isn't unusual," Markus said matter-of-factly. "Sky City's got a reputation for its anti-Esper sentiment. People here don't trust us, and they're not afraid to show it."
Kieran muttered something under his breath, clearly unsatisfied with that explanation.
Markus sighed, glancing at his communicator. "Enough. Let's find a convenience store and move on."
Finally, they stumbled upon a small convenience store tucked away in a quieter part of the city. The bright, flickering neon sign above the entrance read "Central Mart."
"Guess this will have to do," Visconti said, pushing the door open.
The store was modest, its shelves stocked with everything from instant noodles to bottled drinks. The air inside was cool and carried a faint smell of detergent.
Elijah immediately noticed the clerk behind the counter, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a welcoming smile. Unlike the people in the restaurants, he didn't flinch or glare when they entered. Instead, he greeted them politely.
"Welcome! Let me know if you need help finding anything," the man said cheerfully.
For a moment, the team was stunned.
"Finally, someone normal," Kieran muttered, grabbing a basket and heading toward the snack aisle.
Elijah relaxed slightly at the lack of hostility.
Kieran and Markus quickly browsed the shelves, grabbing pre-packaged sandwiches, instant noodles, and bottled drinks.
Elijah and Visconti followed suit, their movements quick but cautious, as if expecting the man's demeanor to change at any moment.
Kieran dumped an armful of snacks onto the counter. "Finally, someone who doesn't look at us like we're criminals."
The clerk chuckled. "You guys are from the corps, right? Cadets?"
Markus nodded, placing his items on the counter. "That obvious?"
The clerk shrugged. "The uniforms give it away. But hey, you're just doing your job, right? Not everyone sees it that way, though."
"No kidding," Kieran muttered.
As Elijah moved to the counter, he noticed a little boy sitting on a stool behind the clerk, playing with a small toy car.
"Are you with the Corps?" the boy asked, his wide eyes filled with curiosity.
Elijah hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, we are."
The boy's face lit up. "Cool! Do you fight bad guys?"
Elijah couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm. "Sometimes. We're here to keep people safe."
The clerk chuckled. "Sorry about my son. He gets excited when he sees people in uniform."
"It's no problem," Elijah said, placing his items on the counter.
As they paid and stepped outside, the four of them sat on a bench outside the store, eating their convenience store lunches in silence. The sandwiches were basic, the drinks lukewarm, but it was better than nothing.