Marco waved the bus down, hoping for it to stop. He closed his eyes, and opened them slowly. Everything had changed. Near everything was a deep blue colour, with only a few things glowing in a slight silver sheen. This was where he needed to be. On this bus, with these people. How much he’d regret it later, he’d find out soon. He messed with the ring on his finger, pure gold, with diamond inlaid in the shape of his family heraldry. The ring itself dated back to Renaissance Italy, and had belonged to his ancestor on his father’s side, along with the weapons that he carried discretely on his person. Marco Balducci. His name. He closed his eyes, opened them again and suddenly everything was as it was, it perfect colour. He smiled to the bus driver, handed over some notes he had randomly pulled from his pocket, and walked onto the main body of the bus. He ruffled his dark brown hair and sat down near the front, lounging across two seats. This was going to be an instrumental part of his career, he knew it.