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Metropolis is the biggest, highest populated, most important functioning city in the world. It also, right now, isn't much of a fucntioning sity - the police are pushed to their limits, the population is higher than it can really support and its economy is crazy thanks to a distinct lack of anywhere to trade with. Crime is higher than it used to be in Gotham.

Which provides a lot for a young crime fighter to do. And Sparrow is after a drug ring specialising in Ruhipnol and other, related sedatives.

So she's not Sparrow right now. Her shades are off, her outfit is stashed, and the only equipment she's carrying is that which she could cover in the pockets of her big yellow coat.

She's undercover on the streets of Metropolis.

[OOC: Still open to new threads! They just will ALL take place before the Sylar thread for obvious reasons]

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Jubes covers her mouth; apparently a reaction against the smell but also to palm a couple of plugs into her nostrils - being Sparrow is all about the gadgetry.

Then she strides towards the shape, not missing a quick scan of the bin that looks like it wasn't in that place until a second ago.

There wasn't a big crack up and down one side until a second ago, either. Those things are surprisingly easy to break if you get the right angle. (Or, you know, if you slam them into walls. Either works.)

It's a little too cold down this end of the alley. the dust falls abruptly.

The shape is a body. Was a body, before the bacteria got to it. It used to be that of a tall, thin man, and there's no immediately obvious cause of death, unless you count the fact that it's green and slimy. To add insult to injury, someone has stolen its shoes.

Eeeew.

At least, that's the interior reaction. It's part of the exteriour one as well, but mostly that's just Jubes putting her fists on her hips and giving it a hard look.

"Ghost?"

Yeah, the narration was sort of going for that effect.

the angry whirlwind of dust strikes up again

"Yes," Jubes says patiently. "I can see that. I meant ghost-as-in-dead-soul rather than metamutant-with-unfortunate-side-effects."

That kind of thing is important to get out of the way first.

Sylar never quite foresaw a time when he would not be entirely independant, which may well be rather shortsighted of him, as it could be argued that he never has been.

Nevertheless. It seems that this could be his only chance at contact; everyone else seemed to run away, for some reason.

"You could call me both," he answers quietly, focusing on the words.

...we never promised he'd be helpful.

Jubes grimaces with an almost-sarcastic well that's helpful kind of expression and shoves her hands back in her pockets.

"Just got really mad at the trashcan, didja?"

the dust falls again, before starting to chase itself around her feet.

"I can't... find a grip."

(You can tell he's a little preoccupied with being dead and hanging onto live consciousness. It's distracting him from Not Talking About Weaknesses Ever.)

"Huh."

Jubes' first reaction is well, what do you want me to do about it? but that's not very 'Heroic' and if he's throwing trashcans about it might get dangerous, and she can't have that.

"Isn't there like, a light or something you're supposed to go into?"

...

"No." Flatly.

(If there was, he's rather too aware that it would be a flickering red one, but let's not go into that.)

Well, that's put paid to that idea.

"Have you looked really hard?"

"I have not come this far--"

The wind-that-isn't-a-wind picks up, sending the base of her coat into a paroxysm of flapping.

"I have not gained all this to die."

So it's possible he's won't be looking for that light, then.

Damn, now she wishes she had her cape on. All this would look really cool if she had a cape.

"Yeah, but it sorta seems like you are dead," she points out. "So you probably have to come to terms with it and move on."

Dark Claw teaches his sidekicks significantly less tact than his Earth-one equivalent.

It may possibly, for a second, be really bollocksing cold.

Now from the opposite direction: "I'm still here, though."

So there must be hope for him yet, right?

Jubes shivers expressively. "Excuse me," she mutters, glancing over to the body for the first time.

Seriously, ew.

"Yeah, that's probably 'cause you have issues getting the hell over it," she says. She doesn't make it sound like a good thing.

"I wasn't meant to die yet."

Forgive him if he sounds cold as well. He doesn't approve of people not approving.

"It has nothing to do with getting over it."

(And the contact with the living is helping him to focus, and the better he focuses the more possible it is to see a tall, dark smudge on the air where he stands.

Just faintly. Just a suggestion. Half the time, if you squint from the wrong angle, not even there. But it's more than there was.)

"Well, you did," Jubes points out, bluntly.

"Not entirely."

The tone, because as a rule he is very good at choosing and controlling these things, does not sound desperate.

Jubes peers at the body.

"There's maggots living in you."

...nobody's perfect.

"Not in me." After all, that body isn't his any more. He's standing right here above it. And sure, a body is useful...

...Jubes, you should be worried about the speculative way he trailed that sentence off.

"That's not you?" Jubes says, trying not to look to hard.

"'Cause haunting the wrong body is really creepy."

...

"Are you deliberately misunderstanding me?"

Never mind. Maybe he can give her a practical example of precisely what he means.

IE: the fact that that's no longer his body lying down there full of pests and parasites.

No, his body, if he has any say in it, is standing right there in a long yellow coat making unhelpful remarks.

Jubilee is a metamutant. She has the power of projecting organic lightshows a short distance from her body.

I mention this because she has another ability inherited from her world: the ability to swear in punctuation.

"%&*$!!!!"

Like that.

And then there is nothing. Just blind panic in an alley where a body that isn't hers lies moldering in the trash.

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