"Wicked!" He saw her take off, the ghosts sprouting up around her even before his eyes found the Inuit.
"The Inuit is in pursuit of Wicked. He's armed. Heading Northeast." Pete practically shouted into the comm badge over the startles shrieks and cries of the crowd. In the confusion he found it difficult to follow, and knew that turning metal, for the moment, would likely do more harm to the people around him than good for the situation as a whole.
It was like a salmon traveling upstream for the first few seconds, until the crowd parted enough out of sheer confusion for him to actually run, his eyes locked on the red hair an uncomfortable distance ahead of him.