Post by Brandon Drake on Apr 1, 2019 17:24:21 GMT -4
[First week of January]
No one gets it. Week after week it has been nonstop failure. He could have done something. He did. Yet despite all that he couldn't change anything. They keep getting away.
People became worried about the kidnapping, then got worried about other things. They're attracted to the latest craze like moths.
Brandon wraps some bandages over his hand. Still stings a bit. Sweat drips from his brow. He's been running a lot lately. Running far from the city during his training, though to be fair, can you even call this training. He's just...running. No pacing, no timing, no nothing. He's not trying to improve himself. Hell, is he even running? It's more of a moody brisk walk to be fair-he's just walking. Fine, he's walking. He's somehow sweating from this..."intense" walking. The bandages keep getting dirty and soft somehow, and it's starting to get annoying. He sighs as he leaves the bathroom of a small store. He stares at the plate of gyoza that he ordered. He didn't have the energy to eat it, so he just left it on the table and left a small tip.
Walking alongside the streets at night, barely anyone is seen. Brandon walks up to where he parked his bike, where he heard something. He heard someone grunting in pain, and he turned his head at the alleyway.
Don't do this, now, dumbass.
Someone appears to be mugging someone, poor man. The mugger appears to be wearing a hat and has a long bang covering his left eye.
Don't.
The man appears to be on the ground while the mugger starts kicking him, with no pause.
You're going to fail again.
Brandon runs, and grabs the man. "Get out of here, dumbass!" He screams at the mugged man, and he scurries away. The Mugger glares at his escaped prey, shakes his head, and then knees Brandon in the chest. Not expecting this, Brandon wasn't able to retaliate in time as he gets on his heads, breathing for air. He steps on Brandon's mutilated hand. A loud scream is heard in the alleyway.
"Calm down, man, I don't want any more attention as much as you do," he snarkly comments as he presses down harder. He then kicks Brandon away, and calmly picks up something. Brandon grabs his hand when he notices that it is a wallet. "See, the salaryman there, he owed me something. And you just caused my...customer, to leave. Now how will I discuss the amount he owes me? I'm gonna have to take everything within this lil wallet as compensation." He smirks and squats down, staring at Brandon. He looks a bit puzzled, but then smiles. "Huh. You look familiar." He grabs something from his pocket. "Maybe it's in my head, but I could have sworn....Ah well."
You had this coming.
At once, several emotions surged inside Brandon. Blood came out of his hand as he grasps it. A large knife wound in the middle of his palm is visible. The man wipes the stained pocket knife, and closes it back in its handle. "Fun meeting you again, kid. Au revoir." He grins as Brandon spasms on the ground, trying to keep the wound covered. He calmly walks out of the alleyway, as Brandon struggles to even lean on the wall.
First it was despair, now it was anger. Why the hand? Why there?! Brandon starts seething with anger. As if it was by instinct, small scales start forming over the wound. He starts slowly stumbling towards the man's direction. His voice seemed familiar, but why? Brandon was blinded by anger as more scales form over his wounded hand. And then the anger was replaced with a horrible sensation. The scales forming over the wounds became twisted and jagged. Rising Hazard isn't meant for healing. Steam starts pouring out of the gashes. It won't stop.
Brandon screams. No one listens except the man who is standing outside his view. He just smirks and walks away, trying to remember where he's seen this kid before.
No one gets it. Week after week it has been nonstop failure. He could have done something. He did. Yet despite all that he couldn't change anything. They keep getting away.
People became worried about the kidnapping, then got worried about other things. They're attracted to the latest craze like moths.
Brandon wraps some bandages over his hand. Still stings a bit. Sweat drips from his brow. He's been running a lot lately. Running far from the city during his training, though to be fair, can you even call this training. He's just...running. No pacing, no timing, no nothing. He's not trying to improve himself. Hell, is he even running? It's more of a moody brisk walk to be fair-he's just walking. Fine, he's walking. He's somehow sweating from this..."intense" walking. The bandages keep getting dirty and soft somehow, and it's starting to get annoying. He sighs as he leaves the bathroom of a small store. He stares at the plate of gyoza that he ordered. He didn't have the energy to eat it, so he just left it on the table and left a small tip.
Walking alongside the streets at night, barely anyone is seen. Brandon walks up to where he parked his bike, where he heard something. He heard someone grunting in pain, and he turned his head at the alleyway.
Don't do this, now, dumbass.
Someone appears to be mugging someone, poor man. The mugger appears to be wearing a hat and has a long bang covering his left eye.
Don't.
The man appears to be on the ground while the mugger starts kicking him, with no pause.
You're going to fail again.
Brandon runs, and grabs the man. "Get out of here, dumbass!" He screams at the mugged man, and he scurries away. The Mugger glares at his escaped prey, shakes his head, and then knees Brandon in the chest. Not expecting this, Brandon wasn't able to retaliate in time as he gets on his heads, breathing for air. He steps on Brandon's mutilated hand. A loud scream is heard in the alleyway.
"Calm down, man, I don't want any more attention as much as you do," he snarkly comments as he presses down harder. He then kicks Brandon away, and calmly picks up something. Brandon grabs his hand when he notices that it is a wallet. "See, the salaryman there, he owed me something. And you just caused my...customer, to leave. Now how will I discuss the amount he owes me? I'm gonna have to take everything within this lil wallet as compensation." He smirks and squats down, staring at Brandon. He looks a bit puzzled, but then smiles. "Huh. You look familiar." He grabs something from his pocket. "Maybe it's in my head, but I could have sworn....Ah well."
You had this coming.
At once, several emotions surged inside Brandon. Blood came out of his hand as he grasps it. A large knife wound in the middle of his palm is visible. The man wipes the stained pocket knife, and closes it back in its handle. "Fun meeting you again, kid. Au revoir." He grins as Brandon spasms on the ground, trying to keep the wound covered. He calmly walks out of the alleyway, as Brandon struggles to even lean on the wall.
First it was despair, now it was anger. Why the hand? Why there?! Brandon starts seething with anger. As if it was by instinct, small scales start forming over the wound. He starts slowly stumbling towards the man's direction. His voice seemed familiar, but why? Brandon was blinded by anger as more scales form over his wounded hand. And then the anger was replaced with a horrible sensation. The scales forming over the wounds became twisted and jagged. Rising Hazard isn't meant for healing. Steam starts pouring out of the gashes. It won't stop.
Brandon screams. No one listens except the man who is standing outside his view. He just smirks and walks away, trying to remember where he's seen this kid before.
