For the third time since his arrival, which was roughly 15 minutes ago, Lewis narrowly avoided a frontal collision with some slack-jawed idiot, entranced by the holographic signs beckoning them into their respective store with their low-priced sales or promotions. Didn't these people have jobs, or something? They were in the middle of the afternoon, on a week day, no less, and yet the mall was crawling all over with people. It was obvious the middle-aged officer wasn't much of a shopping enthusiast, although spending pointlessly had nothing to do with his being there.
Adjusting the collar of his brand new police uniform shirt, which felt much too stiff to his liking, the man mentally reviewed the physical description he had been given of the individual he were supposed to track down. A rogue, supposedly, although their source was the anonymous kind. Sometimes they proved to be right, most of the time they were nothing but a waste of time. Regardless, the FSI worked in tight collaboration with the Enrollment Division and he just happened to be in the area when the call came in. Apparently, the suspect had been spotted at the Maeston Shopping Center, where Lewis now found himself looking for a needle in a hay sack.
The Maeston, as people called it, was one of the many shopping malls of the Metropolis, although certainly not the largest. It featured two stories of various boutiques and restaurants, each featuring glaring, obnoxious advertisements to lure customers in, much like the brainless moron Lewis had nearly bumped into.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson. Would you like to take advantage of our special on Workmen brand briefs? Come inside to see today's specials on..."
Personalized ads, the plague of modern society. You shopped somewhere once and, next thing you knew, some goddamn hologram was calling out your name to buy underwear.
Something suddenly caught Lewis's eye, someone walking past him, much like any other shopper, yet he still found himself turning around as they kept on moving with the crowd. Could it be the man he was looking for? The presumed rogue he had been charged with tracking down? Discretely changing his route and following the potential suspect, as subtle as a bodybuilder in an MPD uniform could be, the officer's sight was locked onto his target. As he drew closer, a hand instinctively went to the gun secured onto his utility belt, feeling the holster's leather with the tip of his fingers. He had no intention of making a scene, of course, but he would be ready if it came to it. If the man really was a rogue, perhaps he wouldn't take kindly to being followed by a law official.
The distance between both men was closing in, almost to the point of being within arms reach. Tension was rising, Lewis's heartbeat accelerating with every step he took, but his eyes would betray none of that, cold and relentless as they were. Would they peacefully surrender? Deny any superpowers? Was this even the man he was looking for? It could even be an undercover Vanguardian for all he knew; damn smug bastards living secret lives. Dozens of questions went through the sergeant's mind in a manner of seconds, knowing that it wouldn't be much longer before they all found the answer they so desperately sought.