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Post by Wesker Atkinson on Jul 11, 2020 17:44:02 GMT -4
| Hard days made me, hard nights shaped me I don't know, they somehow saved me | |
It was a hard sell to go at it alone most of the time. When he stopped to think about it...Without Bishop, Wes felt like half of a whole person. But once again Bishop just seemed tired to the bone, and he had to split. Barghest had really taken it out of him this time, and the circumstances didn't yield successful harvest / dinner for longer then usual. It was late...quite late in the evening. After they grabbed their backpacks from the train station lockers, Bishop told him that he felt dizzy and unwell. He doesn't usually say that stuff outright. Just...mumbling stuff, walking heavy-footed back to their recent abandoned building of a hideout. >> "Too much dog. Just try to find him somethin' to eat for me. He won't shut up. Gonna lie down now".It really had been a tough week. The gang of three was back to two. Shiloh being gone hardly a week still shoved the brothers' morale aggressively into the dirt. He needed something...anything...to go right to feel like he had some agency in his life. Wes needed the ability that he used to have in limitless supply: making some tangible, positive difference in his brother's life. Everything he tried lately wasn't met with much acknowledgement or fanfare. Just stealing some food for Bishop. It would be easy, he thought. It was never all that difficult before life started collapsing on them; you just had to be in the right place at the right time. It didn't take all that long, surprisingly. An opportunity on a silver platter arose, and Wes silently thanked the heavens. A wallet attached to a chain, attached to a man lost in his headphones. Just arriving on center stage as his foot activated the sliding door to leave the convenience store just as Wes was walking by. There were a few 50 yen coins in his pocket, maybe 10 or so. It would make a bunch of noise when it hit the ground and provide ample distraction, even for someone this unaware. After you do this sort of thing long enough, it tends to all play out in slow motion. Suddenly drop your coins as you bump into the target pretending to count them in your hands. Act surprised while you get your hands in and out of the wallet as both of you are stumbling for balance. Apologize that their bills got caught up in all of the chaos and return the bills on the ground...If the wheel wasn't broken, it shouldn't be fixed. Turned out that they were some IC cards, a 10,000 yen bill and luckily...five 1,000 yen bills in there. Wesker slipped 2,000 into his sleeve as he handed the rest that dropped back to the confused man. >> "Gomen gomen...Should'a looked up for you..."The broken Japanese did enough to put up a front as a confused foreigner and it did the trick (not that it was a complete lie, anyways). He bowed quite a few times and the man put his headphones back on and went on his way. Wes played 52 card pickup with his remaining yen that littered the ground in the dull glow of the nearby store lighting, somewhat forgetful of his surroundings. All that ran through his head was constant questioning; what, if anything, was supposed to satisfy Bishop when every other gesture didn't seem to work anymore...? He entered the store and wandered through the thick fog in his head. Eventually Wesker settled on something called nikujaga in a bento box, because it smelled like meat through the package. He wasn't quite sure what else was in there, but it looked like the most significant meal they'd had in quite some time. Hopefully Bishop would eat all of it... He put the money down on the table, said thank you and took the food in a small bag with a wave but no eye contact, and walked out the door. The sky looked pretty wonderful and sparkling that night, but his head was still stuck in the shadows somewhere.He stood around for longer then he usually would after a score, trying to soak up the sky around him. Wes had to keep telling himself that they'd figure things out somehow together, and that things had been harder before. But it was very hard to convince himself otherwise. ▲ WORD COUNT: 699 ● NOTES: [Allow your stressed teen to recharge between 1-5 minutes between jobs for optimal efficiency]
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2020 0:10:39 GMT -4
One big box. Two big boxes. Three big boxes. Helping out at the convenience store wasn't that bad for Desmoshi. After getting a bit of a weekend break, he was back at it, helping the townsfolk of Musutafu as best as he could. They were still recovering from the riots and the local employees of most of the stores were injured due to the attack. So Desmoshi had decided to help out with some of the locals in the area to try and keep their business running at full capacity.
The problem was that no one was going to take any jobs due to what happen in Musutafu. To say that the place got messed up bad would be an understatement. Desmoshi had plans in the works to help the people repair the city. But he was going to need to get everyone on the same page. The last thing he wanted when brought students to help out was a quirker-versus-anti-quirker brawl fest.
It was draining but Mizuki and Niji had come by every once and while to help him out. Speaking of Niji, he was wondering what they should do together during the break. He wanted to take her to the states when he went to New York with his dad, but he still wasn't sure how the meeting with his other family members would turn out. His aunt and cousin use to live in Japan but moved to New York when he was nine. It would be nice to see them, but he wondered what his dad was really up to.
But now wasn't time for that. He needed to help get this inventory done so he can get a favor from the owner. Lately, Desmoshi's projects had been gaining more and more attention, meaning he needed to get more and more supplies to feed the volunteers and keep up with helping out others. His dad helped out, but he didn't want to rely on him all the time. He wanted to accomplish his goals on his own and make a path that wasn't of his dad's.
As Desmoshi was bringing up the stuff to the front of the store, he noticed a little commotion in the front entrance. Seemed like someone wasn't paying attention to where they were going and the two ended up colliding with each other. It happens though from time to time. One of them was an older gentleman wearing headphones and the other looked to be around Desmoshi's age with short black messy hair. Desmoshi wondered what were the chances of that happening and was going to just write it off.
Desmoshi didn't think of it at first until he saw the latter's hand go into the former's pocket, pulling out his wallet quickly and dropping his bills in the mix. Desmoshi saw this trick before when he went to New York as a kid. Someone tried to pickpocket his dad's wallet and didn't know that he was a full-time boxer. Little to say, the robber found the hard way on why not to steal from a Haymaker.
Desmoshi watched as the young man fumbled with the bills for a second, slipping two thousand yen into his sleeve. Yep, he was stealing. But Desmoshi said nothing as the older gentleman left the store. He watched the younger man made his purchases and headed out the door, as though he was in a hurry to get out of there.
"Yo, Mike," Desmoshi said as the doors closed to the front. "All the inventory is done for you. I am going to take off early and be back in a week. I need to take care of something real quick." Desmoshi rushed outside, looking for the young man in the night. The older gentleman with the headphones was against the wall listening to music. Desmoshi pulled out two thousand yen and said, "Hey man. You dropped this earlier." Good, he won't cause a scene with the owner over missing a few bills. At least this would look like it wasn't stolen, but just dropped instead.
With a nod of appreciation from the man, Desmoshi walked down the sidewalk until he spotted the young kid. He decided to follow him closely and quietly. He wanted to call the authorities, but something in his gut told him not to. Follow was the name of the game to see where he was going and have a chat with him.
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Post by Wesker Atkinson on Jul 16, 2020 6:10:22 GMT -4
| Hard days made me, hard nights shaped me I don't know, they somehow saved me | |
All on his own...if something went wrong, there would be no Bishop-sized safety net there waiting for him. Wes tried to remember the last time he had stole something by himself without getting caught...and not much came to mind. This kind of thing took practice, of course. And you can't practice without making mistakes. But even when they were younger, the Atkinson Brothers always attacked problems together. In many ways, it made him feel invincible with him around. Survival wasn't so daunting, especially now that Bishop had the powers to backup his bravado. But still, he could really land a punch even witho- A twig snap behind him almost caused him to turn and look... Hopefully nothing. He couldn't look suspicious to the outside world, that would be a dangerous game. He kept walking, a bit faster this time. There were, without a doubt, many reasons to make sure his brother didn't have to do everything to help them through their homelessness. But behind that need to feel useful to Bishop was quite a few reluctant questions that didn't make anything easier. Especially considering they would be coming from the mouth of someone fully aware that they weren't pulling their own weight most of the time. Pangs of doubt began to float around Wes during some of Bishop's recent actions, maybe even before their final heist with Shiloh. It felt like he was acting different then usual desperate Bishop. He felt himself wanting to tell his brother: "Maybe you should calm down just a bit..." "Maybe that's a bit too much..." "Are you sure people aren't going to get seriously hurt from this?..." But he never could manage to say it. Was it even fair to ask these things? His little brother was the only reason that Wes was alive and surviving, one hundred percent...But the two of them had done so well before, leaving behind minimal regrets for their actions even after some really close shaves. During the entire retreat from Chicago and the journey to the coast and across the ocean. Nothing was perfect, but there was also nothing Wesker could regret back then. No one made completely miserable by their actions. And even more then that... Another sound. Wes turned to his left to find a cat pushing through some bushes, jumping on a dumpster, onto a fence and back down onto something metal out of sight. He kept his mental focus the best he could as he whispered to himself, shaking but determined. >> "Be careful and don't get jumped or anything...but don't forget your duty right now either. Quicker, Wes. Come on."He was about a block from their recent hideout. They'd been able to stay there without being found ever since the last break-in. Hopefully it would stay that way. Things were pretty quiet that time of night, as things usually were no matter where they traveled. Wes took a chance to breathe, look and listen as the usual landmarks near the hideout revealed themselves in sequence in the street-light. It really was a pretty decent night out; the moon was reluctant to light up anything, but a light breeze still carried some hope with it. A chance to reflect and listen, maybe center his state-of-mind just a bit in preparation for interacting with Bishop in a level-headed way in case he was still awake when he arrived. If he wasn't confident in what to say and how to say it, Wes was uncertain of the result. Another sound came from behind him, and he couldn't really tell what it was at all. Something so quiet, that he was probably was just hearing things. Wes was used to compensating for his brother's...less then average hearing. So that feeling just then. Shouldn't he just hurry over and get back as soon as possible and not stall this any longer? But, what if he was wrong? His stomach tensed up in a knot. He told himself over and over: think clearly. Wes had avoided assholes that followed him home before...with Bishop's loud mouth there's always a chance to... Not this time there wasn't. Trying to keep from looking back proved futile. Whatever he heard, Wes couldn't keep it a secret that he was aware of it. He took a breath and turned around slowly. Nothing but some dull-lit streetlights. He had no evidence that he was being followed, but his instincts were screaming to test the waters and just...run. The stuff he was hearing...wasn't nothing, was it? Bishop could be dead-asleep by now, exhausted and hungry. Revealing the location he intended to go and potentially exposing their hideout had to be a last resort only. Besides, Wes had to make it up to Bishop and prove that could be useful in his absence. He needed to bring Bishop the dinner without a hitch. It was the least he could do for continuing to receive the benefits of his brother's quirk... and still questioning his brother's actions so much. He felt wholly ungrateful and something had to be done. This was a test. It was time to put his paranoia to bed. If he ran around a few blocks and nothing revealed itself, there was nothing to worry about, and he could make his way back again. No loose ends. He found himself whispering under his breath again: >> "Sorry bro, it'll be a bit cold by the time I get this back. I hope it's still good enough..."And with that he bolted like he had something to prove (and he damn well did), past the hideout and right at the next block. He held the bento box to his chest, determined not to let go. ▲ WORD COUNT: 948 ● NOTES: It's hard portraying someone struggling to focus when you're also struggling to focus. But at least it's...immersive.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2020 0:57:59 GMT -4
Desmoshi wasn't as stealthy as other spy heroes, but he was good at playing keep-up with others. The kid from the store was street smart, checking behind him to make sure no one was following him every time Desmoshi accidentally stepped on something or made a sound. Every time he would turn around to look if someone was following him, Desmoshi would duck behind a pole or a bush to keep hidden, waiting for the boy to move again before continuing his somewhat silent pursuit.
This reminded Desmoshi of when he was in Tokoyo City, walking him and his sister home from school. They would out for each other and make sure that the non-quirkers from their school wouldn't jump them. Desmoshi gained a lot of wisdom from the streets, but at the same time, he and his sister saw the ugliness that the violence could bring. Hopefully, Desmoshi could make people see that no one would have to fear once he became pro.
For now, he would work up to it. First with the community, and now with this boy who was heading somewhere. Where was he going? There was nothing out here except for the warehouse district in Musutafu. While Desmoshi was lost in thought, he forgot to pay attention to the twig he stepped on, the sound echoing through the quiet night.
Crap, he thought as he jumped behind the light pole. The boy looked around for a second, walked slowly at first, and then broke out in a full run. Dangit. Desmoshi wasn't going to lose him. With his quirk, he made a huge ball of air and started to skate on it to keep up with him. Hopefully, no one was watching all this. He really wanted to talk to this boy and figure out was going on. But he would have to catch him first.
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Post by Wesker Atkinson on Jul 26, 2020 22:04:33 GMT -4
| Hard days made me, hard nights shaped me I don't know, they somehow saved me | |
Wes turned the corner past the hideout taking a left, a left, a right, a left, and a right at each block. It felt bird-brained to run "just in case" but instincts talked loudly in his body, like always. A bit farther, straight ahead and the street narrowed and felt more like an alley. A more familiar turf for him to shake off a pursuer, a place like what Chicago had in droves. Corners... shadows...hiding places...good. Wesker caught his breath sitting against a wall. Shallow breathing allowed for maximum concentration on the sounds of his surroundings, making sure he lost whatever was assumed to be chasing him. Next was to locate a place to lay low in a good corner and wait for a chance to get back to Bishop. A brisk wind howled through the alleyway, throwing hair into his eyes. Had there really been any wind that night at all until now? Surely he was running for no reason and he was just hearing things... His theory was in need of a reality check. A boy around his age bounded into view right down the street. Shit. His instincts were in fact... right all along...swell... It really wasn't just the wind, it was a capable pursuer. Casual dress, square glasses, wind powers. This was really bad; whoever they were, they were targeting him for a reason. Not only that, Wes suspected there was no way he could outrun this guy normally, seeing as the quirker was literally floating on air. Running really didn't feel like an option at this stranger's rate of acceleration. The stranger closing the distance was a looming inevitability whether Wes turned to run or not. Not even a fox could throw off this one. He definitely couldn't lift the food high enough without the cargo dragging and the bag being torn open, so using his powers wouldn't be an escape option to begin with. Wes was acquainted with fox-height enough to know without even trying. No more running. If someone planned on taking anything of worth, joke's on them. Wes hardly had anything to lose these days, and he didn't even have his backpack or usual backpack fillers on him. With the exception of his brother's bento box, the only thing they could take from him was his life...But what if they really did have killing intent... then... Adrenaline and worry kept him on his toes, hesitantly optimistic. That wasn't possible for someone this guy's age, surely... But still, things weren't looking good. His own life and his brother's well-being still hung in the balance. The only thing he could do was assume the worst and prepare in case a brick wall of fighting prowess came to knock his lights out. It felt uncharacteristic of Wes to stand his ground...like he was conjuring something beyond himself. But the alternatives would be much worse unless something was done about this. Wes propped himself up to a standing position again. With the food bag set gently on the ground with shakey hands, off to the side, Wes took a big breath. Resisting the urge to prematurely reach for the knife. His muscles screamed to move fast at the ready and make themselves useful. But the element of surprise was key if he was going to put up a fight alone. If his brother could get through harsh circumstances all alone, then Wes felt required to do the same. Or else he'd feel undeserving of calling himself Bishop's big brother. >> "Alright man...whatever you want from me...let's get it over with."▲ WORD COUNT: 593 ● NOTES: *'Here Comes The Boom' plays in the distance* Oh shit...I think that sounds like... theme music...?
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Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2020 23:52:22 GMT -4
Man, this dude can move. Desmoshi was doing his best to maneuver the ball of air, taking turns where his target would take them. Good thing a lot of people weren't around. Otherwise, he would be in hot water as well. But he needed to know why this guy was stealing from people. Although this moment did remind one of his days back when he was younger. Back in his middle school days when he would run away from the bullies that picked on him and Mizuki.
Flashback
"Come on, Mizuki!" twelve-year-old Desmoshi yelled to his twin sister as he dragged her along while running. "We're almost home free." It was just like any other day after school for Desmoshi. He and his sister running away from a group of bullies who didn't like quirkers. And every day they would get away without too many issues. Yes, the twins could fight them. But they promise their parents that they would not use their quirk, so the only option left was to run.
"Desmoshi, my legs hurt!" Mizuki whined, gasping for air. They turn a corner to lose them and stopped to rest. “Maybe we should fight them,” Desmoshi suggested, finally catching some air. “And kicked out of school again? We promised Mom and Dad!” Mizuki exclaimed. “We need to find another solution.” She was right. This would be their fifth school if they were kicked out of if they use their quirks again. “Maybe we can take a short cut,” Desmoshi said. “If we-.”
Before he could finish a voice came from behind him. “Trap like rats are we?” said the main bully, coming closer to the two. “Ikari, we want no beef, man,” Desmoshi said, getting in front of his sister. “Let us go home and we can all walk away peacefully.” Ikari just smiled at the twins, the other five boys and two girls surrounding the twins. “But I am doing my school a service,” Ikari replied with evil smile. “I get to rid my school of freaks like you.”
Welp, game over. There was no way Desmoshi talked them out of this beatdown. “Hey kids. I was looking for you.” The voice of Jokai was music to Desmoshi’s ears. Jokai turned to the other bullies as he got in front of his kids. “There are no problems here, are they?” His eyes spoke 'Try me' to the children. They were filled rage. The rage of a father who had his cub messed with it. And he was staring down the hunters, giving the one chance to leave with their dignity intact. The kids looked at one another. There was no way in the world they could take on a pro boxer. “No, sir,” Ikari stuttered, following the other children out of the alleyway.
Once all the other childeren left, Jokai turned to his twins. “I am proud of both of you,” Jokai said with a smile. “You guys handle a problem without fighting or using your quirks.” Desmoshi hugged his father along with Mizuki. “Thanks, Dad,” Desmoshi said. He wasn’t upset over the bullies or even his father showing up. He was upset because people saw him and his sister as being different. And it stung the worst.
End of Flashback
He knew what it was like to have to run away from the problem. For survival. For his sister. But since being at UA, he doesn't run anymore. He wanted to help people come together. But nothing was going to get done if they kept running away from one another. Quirkers versus quirkless. Senseless violence that had no real reason for existing except to cause more problems. Maybe that's why most villians became the way they are. Why Ishatar wanted a revolution. But the revolution would only breed more problems. And everyone was picking a side to be on. Desmoshi wanted a peaceful revolution not a war.
And now Ikari was in the mix too. Desmoshi wasn't sure if he could change his mind or not. The guy was dead set on the whole thing being his fault. Something had changed him back then. Desmoshi wasn't sure what, but it seem that Ikari had given up and was solely focused on taking him and Mizuki out. If he could not reach him, Desmoshi would have to fight him again. Just like in the riots. Mizuki had suggested that there was no changing him, that he was beyond redemption. But in Desmoshi's eyes, no one was beyond redemption. He knew that better than anyone. And this kid deserved redemption, too.
Desmoshi had finally caught up to the kid. He wanted to resolve this problem without fighting. But judging from the other guy’s stance, Desmoshi wasn’t sure how this would end. He stepped off the ball of air and stood his ground in front of the young boy. "I just want to talk," Desmoshi said, taking care to not make any sudden movements that would spook him. “My name is Desmoshi from UA and I was wanting to talk to you about what happened in the store.” Please be cool, Desmoshi thought to himself. Good luck with that, Ame replied in his mind. Desmoshi took a slow step forward. “I saw what you did and I am not here to turn you in. I just want to talk. There is no need to fight.” The less violence, the better.
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Post by Wesker Atkinson on Aug 15, 2020 7:31:51 GMT -4
| Hard days made me, hard nights shaped me I don't know, they somehow saved me | |
Wes was confused by the boy's actions at first. This kid rushed over to him just to talk?...but he saw what happened? How was anyone else able to follow his pickpocket skills in the midst of everything? Was that part of his quirk too? It was hard to fathom so many people with overtly useful and versatile quirks. Compared to all of the quirkers they’d seen over the last few weeks alone, Wes felt handicapped and helpless. It was something that often was left unaddressed because Bishop was often there too, catching Wes staring off into space and putting a stop to it somehow. This feeling was something he’d been soaking in lately, and currently would be no exception. Left behind in the race called life among quirks...just waiting for that opportunity to really show that the Atkinsons’ survival up until this point was no fluke. They were a team of two, pulling their own weight the whole time...right? >> “I just want to talk.”The words echoed in his head violently. Wes was broken from his other intrusive thoughts as déjà vu slapped him directly on the face. >> “...I saw what you did and I am not here to turn you in. I just want to talk. There is no need to fight.”Wes despised this feeling. There was too many confusing thoughts ringing in his head lately, and the cage doors were all thrown open at once with just a few words. >> “Ya can’t just tell me that sort of thing. I CAN'T do this again. I just can't. Just wanting to talk? Anyone trying to explain to me that they didn't want to hurt anyone was probably lying. You must be just someone with a quirk that wants to save the day by catching the street kid off-guard. But I gotta tell ya, right from my gut. No one’s said that kind of stuff to us before and truly meant it."If he fell for something like that again, he'd make things even harder on Bishop. This was supposed to be a quick one. And this wasn’t his brother's idea. This was supposed to be a gift. Proof things could get better if the two of them pulled their own weight. But now... He knew the only right thing to do in this situation was to do what was best for Bishop. But he was frozen in place, unable to decide what was best for Bishop. Wes was breathing fast and uneven. Clenching fists tightly and digging his nails into his palms was the only way to attempt to stay focused on what really mattered. If he didn't try to defend himself from a liar...the world would get the jump on him, and the punishment would be no better then their last pro hero encounter. >> “So I can’t let that kind of ruse get in the way of...”He couldn't come back there empty handed. He couldn't run and lead the guy right to their hideout. He couldn't get caught. He couldn't leave his brother alone. Bishop couldn't handle things by himself... >> “...of...of my brother's decent meal, dammit. He needs me!”>> "Well...not right now, he doesn't." Wes muttered under his breath. No one could find Bishop while he rested at the hideout. At that moment, Bishop really only needed Barghest and he'd be just fine. Wes was... a useful brother, right? Well, then... he certainly needed to try harder to act like it. >> “I don’t see any other way to do this, so...”Mid-sentence, he took the 50 yen coin bundle out of his pocket, beginning to inch slowly closer, keeping a readied stance. He took a deep breath, eyes closed for a few seconds. With his eyes open again, determined, Wes threw a fistful of coins toward the boy’s face as hard as he could. And with that immediately followed looking like he was about to throw a punch running in closer. It was an attempt to get a high block out of the pursuer. But the punch was a fake and his arm tucked in instead, throwing all his weight forward with his shoulder. It was Wesker’s best attempt to check the kid while running at speed, trying to get a high block out of him and leave an opening. The loss of control of the situation was all...just too much. He learned to fend off the weirdos in the city he grew up with, but this was different. He was always there waiting for the bad guy to make the move first. He was starting this. Against someone who was never physically threatening him. It felt so... intensely wrong. Wes’ street survival experience told him to keep his eyes open, but fear beckoned his eyes to close tightly as he braced for impact. Optimism was gone; he was too scared of what was going to happen if he failed to achieve any kind of advantage here. Regret was slipping out of him in tears but the leap of faith had already begun. ▲ WORD COUNT: 844 ● NOTES: He missed an opportunity to pull out the: "Hands off my beloved little brother Punch!"
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Post by Deleted on Aug 18, 2020 3:31:57 GMT -4
"No... I don't mean any trouble..." No use. The guy wasn't accepting Desmoshi's words with ease. This was going to be harder than he thought. From the looks of how this guy took his stance, he was fighting. But not for no reason. To protect someone. To take care of someone. His brother's meal? Was he doing this to help his brother? Where was he? Were they homeless and needed-?
Desmoshi didn't have a chance to gather all of his thoughts. Yen was thrown in his face catching him off guard. He recovered just in enough time to see the kid get ready to gut check him. 'Shit,' Desmoshi thought. He understood why this guy didn't trust him. He knew what it was like to have to fight to protect someone. It felt like time froze as a memory flashed in front of Desmoshi's eyes.
Flashback.
"No where to run, freaks," Ikari said, towering over the twins. "We told you to stay out of our school. You don't belong here." They were in the middle of the halls of Tokyo City Middle School. Ikari and his usual group had surrounded the twins again. One of the girls taunted and pointed Mizuki. "Make sure to mess her up. She thinks she is probably hot stuff or something. She was the one who punched me two months ago."
Demsohshi stepped in front of his sister, seeing the anger rise in her eyes. "Well, maybe if you weren't forcing everyone to be your stool, she wouldn't have to do that," Desmoshi shot back at the girl. He remembered that one. The girl wanted Mizuki to get on her knees and be her footstool. Let's just say a cracked jaw and broken teeth told the girl that Mizuki didn't agree with that too much.
Desmoshi returned his attention to Ikari. "We don't have to do this. There is a peaceful solution to all of this. If we just talk-." Ikari pushed Desmoshi into the locker, the sound of metal resounding through the halls. Mizuki had dodged in enough time, avoiding being sandwiched between the lockers and Desmoshi. She went to her brother's side as he took a knee to the floor, still reeling from the blow. "A freak has no business speaking to me," Ikari said, advancing on the twins. "In case you haven't known- I am the alpha dog around here! What says goes!" He raised his fist, getting ready to collide with Desmoshi's face. And that means taking out trash like you!"
Desmoshi shut his eyes, bracing for the impact. But none came in. Just loud gasps and a few giggles from the crowd. Desmoshi looked up at Ikari, seeing his fist covered in blood but felt no pain. "It's okay." No. Desmoshi turned to where the voice came from, not wanting to confirm his worse fears. His sister lied on the ground with a bloody nose and busted lip, her eyes focused on Desmoshi. "Don't... worry about it," she said weakly. "It's not worth it."
He knew why Mizuki was saying this. The laughing kids making fun of her. The grin on Ikari's face. But worse- his sister lying on the ground because she protected him. Just as he used to do for her. The voice. Ame's voice. 'You going to let them do that to her?' it asked. 'Let your rage take over. Let them feel the heat of your anger. SHOW THEM!'
"Awww... Look at Lil' sis defending her puny brother," Ikari teased mercilessly, advancing again on Desmoshi. "Don't worry. I'll finish your sister off. But first, let's see if-." Ikari got a chance to finish that sentence. The next thing he knew was stone fist met he jaw. Breaking it completely off its hinges, he was sent flying to the ground, wailing in pain. "Get a teacher!" One of the students yelled out, but it was too late.
The hall went silent as saw Desmoshi in his new form. "Oh no," Mizuki said in fear. Desmoshi was gone. His eyes glowed an eerie white as he faced the mob. Like a lion who eyed the hunters that try to hurt its children. He had four arms growing out of his back made of fire, water, wind, and earth. His other two fists were covered in pure light. His silent rage washed over the hallway as the next word in his mind came into view. HURT. With a loud a roar he pounced on the ones who dared hurt his sister, the sound of destroyed metal and screams ringing through the hospital.
When Desmoshi came to, he was in the headmaster's office, his parents arguing with the principal on what happened. The five students who tormented him, including Ikari, were in the hospital. Severe burns. Broken bones. Dislocated bones. Thousands of dollars of property damage. Little to say, Desmoshi and Mizuki were never welcome back. He vowed to not answer the problem with violence, although he had no control at the time.
And to see Ikari two years later, blaming the boy for his crimes and his newfound quirk. So much anger and rage came in that fight. But just as Desmoshi was about to strike the final blow, he walked away. Told Ikari if he wanted to be saved, he knew where to find him. Desmoshi wanted to save him, but his duty as a hero came first. He walked away and the authorities could never find Ikari.
Flashback ended.
But this guy was different. He wasn't taunting Desmoshi. He was defending his brother. He could respect that. But Desmoshi wasn't feeling the gut check. Brown steam and sand left Desmoshi's nostrils and mouth as he activated his quirk. [smear:#a1673d]"Earth Breathing. Fourth Form. Stonewall Defense!"[/smear:#e6ca19:0] Desmoshi's mid-section hardened into stone as the collided with him. But Desmoshi stood his ground. "Again I don't want to fight," Desmoshi said using his strength and Durability to keep himself rooted. His eyes was filled with determination and patience. "I just want to talk. Fighting will get us nowhere. Please... let me help."
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Post by Wesker Atkinson on Aug 24, 2020 3:21:34 GMT -4
| If the world's only gonna see a fox as shifty and untrustworthy, there's no point in trying to be anything else. | |
He launched himself into a kid a bit taller than himself, but ended up colliding with a boulder. His body crumpled up in dismay, brought to an immediate stop. What followed was quite a lot of unexpected pain he wasn’t properly braced for. When Wes opened his eyes, the concrete was pressed against his face on one side, and he was numb in at least a few different places. >> "Dammit, I don't remember trying to tackle a statue... Fuck..."Wes struggled to get up again. It was impossible to tilt his head up and see the surroundings he was laying on without the world tilting slowly into a 45 degree angle every time he tried to reopen his eyes. The kid was saying words, but his ears were ringing and Wes was determined to shut them out this time anyways. Once one foot was ready to brace his weight and he tried to stand, he ended up falling backward and had to rotate and catch himself with his arms. He fell forward for a moment, somewhat shaken, then managed to finally stand up. The streetlights in the distance looked abnormally bright. He felt the beginnings of a bloody nose the moment he regained feeling in his face. How hard did he get punched? ...Did he even get punched at all? There's no way he didn't get swiped in the face the way he was already feeling; something definitely collided with his head. This wasn't looking good at all. But maybe if he kept it up, it would look like he was banged up worse then he actually was. Make it seem worse and maybe the upper hand can get scrapped off of the wall like a bunch of blackened, overcooked noodles that were reluctant to detach. And maybe that quirk was just something that could only be used once. Wes imagined any kind of excuse in his book to keep from giving up and using his powers (aka running for his life and returning empty-handed). The opposition seemed to be aware, but still standing ground... so if this guy wasn't expecting it, then maybe Wes just had to go when even his body didn't feel ready. Keep the kid on his toes, and prod for an opportunity. Suddenly he ran in again before he could overthink any more, making a slightly curved beeline to the human statue. Despite having his balanced compromised and playing up how dizzy he was, Wes braced himself and prepared a strong right hook. Making it look like he had every intention to connect but miss, his leading foot stomped the ground hard to stop his running momentum and the punch missed on purpose. Bracing his leg, and making sure his stride landed close enough, he grabbed a lower portion of the kid's clothing with the punching hand and the kid's arm with his other hand. >> "Dammit! You gotta budge sometime!He tensed his muscles and yanked with his momentum and weight. Wes rotated him body to try to pull the kid off balance and trip him over Wes' front leg. Despite the situation working pretty heavily against him, he prayed to at least utilize something from the numerous alleyway confrontations under his belt. At least enough to make an opening and follow up to get an edge over the situation. Surely... at the very least he could manage that... The sound of his heartbeat was getting too loud in his ears to focus one step ahead anymore. His mental fortitude would undoubtedly waver as the world's watch ticked down seconds between each movement and counter-movement. Give your everything. Don't trust them. Don't let them see how much it bothers you when they lie. Don't let them see how much they get to you. Just... win the fight.▲ WORD COUNT: 634 ● NOTES: Place your bets, ladies and gentleman. The UA middleweight from down the way or the street rat with everything to lose? He's a rolling, point is nine. Place the nine. High and a winner. Got a hot hand.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2020 21:34:58 GMT -4
Desmoshi's defense was a success. The training at UA was paying off after all. But not only that, his street sense was helping him stay on his toes a bit. He had fought tricky opponents before, but he didn't want to hurt this guy. He was trying to help him. But this guy was determined to get past Desmoshi. And Desmoshi was determined to get him to listen. An unstoppable force that meets an unmovable object. This might be going on longer than he thought. He needed a plan; a way to make this guy see that this was not a fight he wanted to do. That the only solution was to sit down and talk. "Listen I get that you don't trust me," Desmoshi said, his stone chest deactivating. "But we need to talk this out. I am not here to bust you. I am here to help. Maybe we should-." Desmoshi's suggestion to end the fight fell on deaf ears as the kid charged him again. At first, Desmoshi thought he was going in for a punch. So by instinct, he attempted to dodge it. But it was a feint as the kid locked his leg into Desmoshi's and used the leverage to trip him up. Desmoshi hit the ground hard, feeling the wind knocked out of him. 'I am not saying he put you on your ass,' Ame said in his head, 'but- he put you on your ass.' Desmoshi sat up on the concrete, feeling the throbbing pain in his back. 'Thanks for the play by play, Ame,' he sarcastically thought to Ame. The memory of the fight with Ikari was flooding in. Could he save anyone? Flashback Desmoshi stood in front of his opponent, sheathed in boxing robes made of wind. The wolf-head that adorned his wind-made hood howled with pride. The four arms were now swirling hurricanes for arms, each end complete with a giant wolf fist. Desmoshi's eyes glowed green as he stared down Ikari. "Last chance, Ikari," Desmoshi said cooly. He was worn and a little beaten-down, but he still had a few rounds left in him. Ikari smiled at the young Haymaker. "You think by some fancy clothes made of wind is going to-"
Before he could finish his sentence, he felt a wind-infused fist smack him in a jaw. The force sent him flying into the wall nearby, the sound of crumbled stone being heard throughout. The dust kicked up covering the fighting space the two were in. When the smoke cleared, out of the rubble came an irate Ikari. He looked at the young boy, remembering his encounter with him from their younger days. 'Not again,' Ikari thought to himself. Before he could complete his thought, Desmoshi stood in front of him.
"Again, I ask," Desmoshi said with a serious look on his face. "Stop this. I won't let you go back over there to hurt my friends and sister. Turn yourself in and get help." Ikari looked at the person before him, feeling more anger from his challenge. How dare the freak stepped up to him? Again! "Screw you-." Another fist met his face, followed by three more to his gut, lifting him upward in the air. The force sent him flying upward. Desmoshi followed, flying into the air above him. He brought all four fists together. "WIND BREATHING! NINTH FORM! WOLF HAMMER!" The attack connected with Ikari's gut again, sending him flying towards the ground. A huge crater was created, along with a giant hurricane from Desmoshi's quirk, kicking up more dust.
Ikari stood again after the smoke clear, his muscle mass increased to protect him from the damage. And again, Desmoshi was right in front of him. "How can you move so freaking-?!" "Fast?" Desmoshi finished for him. "This is the stance and quirk passed through my family for generations. When combined, I am an unstoppable force to be reckoned with." Desmoshi was a blur again, standing only a few inches from Ikari's face. "Outboxers rely on speed and staying one step ahead of their opponent. In this form, I don't need to beat you with just strength. Speed is the name of the game." Desmoshi wasn't just determined. He was angry. Angry that Ikari wouldn't let him help him. Save him.
End of Flashback
And like now he could feel that rage building up again. Why won't this kid let him help? The air changed, an aura of rage. Why did people act like this? His eyes went bright blue with energy. WHY WON'T YOU LET ME HELP YOU?! Nice Desmoshi was gone. This guy wasn't listening to him. Fine he would make him listen. Ikair wouldn't listen either. He was sick of trying to make people listen to him. Desmoshi stood up and dusted himself off. "Okay," Desmoshi said calmly and seriously. "If you want to box, I will be more than happy to oblige." Desmoshi shot blue steam out of his mouth and nostrils, like blue mist in a storm. Water began to race up his arms and forming sharks at the end of his fists. Two more arms shot out of his back made of water. Desmoshi's glowed a blue color, his face filled with determination. He got into his stance, ready for a fight. [smear:#1979e6]WATER BREATHING- FLOW! SURGE, EMPORER OF THE SEA! LOS ANGELES SWITCH HITTER![/smear:#19e6ca:0]Desmoshi knew that this kid might either tried to fight or run for it. But he was going to strike first with art that wouldn't cause too much pain. At least, that was calm Desmoshi was thinking. Angry Desmoshi, however... Desmoshi used his great speed closing the distance between the two. No more running. [smear:#1979e6]"WATER BREATHING! FIRST FORM! SHARK RIFLE!"[/smear:#19e6de:0] Desmoshi aimed a water encased punch at his opponent's face. Water had force when used properly, and if connected would not only put the boy back on the ground but actually would probably hurt. Maybe knocking some sense into him will get him to listen.
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Post by Wesker Atkinson on Sept 8, 2020 0:39:55 GMT -4
| IF THE WORLD'S ONLY GONNA SEE A FOX AS SHIFTY AND UNTRUSTWORTHY, THERE'S NO POINT IN TRYING TO BE ANYTHING ELSE | |
Wesker's follower reluctantly sailed to the ground, landing solidly against the concrete. At that angle, the sliver of moonlight above obscured the look in his eyes, but Wes would have liked to think there was some surprise there. Expectations were probably low from the beginning, after all. But despite the circumstance, Wes was beside himself. With everything happening lately, being proud of his individual accomplishments was an unfamiliar feeling. Wes wasn’t defenseless... But still, he needed a few seconds to remember that he'd been doing this for a while and stood a ghost of a chance in the first place. He couldn't forget that he was doing this alone with no brother-shaped safety net. And with that thought, the uneasiness back. It felt all wrong again. It was easier to cope with a more familiar feeling, wasn't it? The kid got up again, scrubbing the glare of moonlight away from his eyes as he fixed his glasses. Surely, 4-eyes was about to show just how determined he was to succeed here. That was way less time on the ground for a normal person falling on their back like that. There was something about his presence that Wes couldn't pin down. But it was felt. Intensely. Everywhere around him. As Wes took a shaky deep breath in, he struggled to exhale again. There was some invisible pressure holding his diaphragm hostage, clamping him together. It was the way the kid looked at him. Like the amateur fighters Bishop confronted in the underground fight rings back home... they rarely met eyes with Wes pick-pocketing the crowd and Bishop doing all of the heavy lifting, so to speak. But the rare times those fighters looked his way...the aura was immense. It was endless determination. A mind that can’t be changed, and whatever it was thinking at the time was law. Wes had to look away for a second; it took everything he had to forcefully exhale and catch his breath. He could barely look out of the corner of his eye to mark his opponent's position, and he was afraid to look back in the boy's eyes again. Wesker’s presence was dwarfed in that moment, beyond something superficial like stature, or loudness of voice. Something surely changed for his pursuer, and every instinct left in Wes' body knew this wasn't going to be good. >> “Okay...If you want to box, I will be more than happy to oblige.">> "I don't think I can say I'm really enj- oh shit…"Wes backed up a step at the sound of steam suddenly shooting from his opponent’s nose and mouth. Water was being pulled around on invisible puppet strings kinda like that scary sand lady they found months ago. They hadn't seen anyone with such a powerful quirk before at the time, and Wes certainly thought they wouldn't have to if everything went more smoothly. >> "Y- you can't be serious...not again..."Sharks made of water were flying straight at him, linked to the kid's arms and launching his fists forward. This guy didn't just control air...or water...he could probably control a lot of things. Wes was exceedingly outclassed. It was obvious now that this guy was going easy on him before. He begged and pleaded for his body to do something other than run. If he gave in to his instincts, surely he'd be pursued. Or best case scenario: he would return with potentially no food. And confessing he had to run from a simple job... would not go over well for Bishop to hear. He felt trapped between two very undesirable situations. Just imagining his brother's disappointment...it would hurt too much. He couldn't do that. Not another failure. Bro was already their only hope, right? And the more desperate they got in life, the closer Bro would get to losing it and getting caught while going overboard with Barghest. He’d already felt so distant from Bishop these days... Running into a problem, running away from the problem. What does it matter? It would be the same...What Wes decided to do would be inconsequential. He had no power here. Probably never did since the beginning. He couldn't save his brother with a small favor anyways. And he certainly couldn't save himself. His brain patterns left him frozen in place. Wes was an animal in headlights about to get run over. At the last minute, he managed to find the strength to move his arms and bring up feeble resistance... The impact of liquid surface tension and fist landed back to back, shoving his blocking arms aside, nailing him across his face and sent him reeling back, disoriented. It was like falling face first into still water after jumping off of a tall bridge. If he didn't go along with the momentum from the punch, he'd likely injure himself even more. It was a bit like how Wes heard other kids describe a riptide. But it was probably worse. He slammed his eyes shut as rapids violently splashed around his face. His point of view was forced around 180 degrees and tilted sideways when he fell. Wes caught himself on his arms, half turned around from a back-lying position. He wiped his face trying to move water out of the way with his sleeves or his arms, frantically looking for where the attacker was through stinging eyes. Fresh drops from his hair, instantly soaked all the way through, fed more water over his eyelids and in front of his field of vision that couldn’t be easily wiped away with any article of sopping wet clothing on his body. His pursuer was nothing but a dimly lit form in watery lenses now, no matter what Wes did to clear his vision. It was already too late in the evening. He couldn't fight like this. The pain from the impact and how the landing scuffed up his arms was starting to overtake the adrenaline and made him panic a bit more. Wes coughed up some water and started backing up slowly. He had to get away now, right? Just run. He kept trying to tell himself. -- “Get out of here” -- “What are you even doing?”-- “I can’t go back home empty-handed”-- ”I’m gonna lose Bishop...”-- ”He’s just gonna push himself too hard...and get into trouble...and hurt someone else on accident and get caught...They’re not gonna understand that he didn’t mean to...”-- ”Worry about yourself, dumbass. He’s gonna clobber you if you just sit there.”-- ”Why did you even try to fix things. You only make things worse when you use your powers. And you sure as hell can’t seem to get anything else done without them either. Goddamn dude, what’s with you?”He found himself pleading, speaking out loud softly without really noticing it wasn’t in his head anymore. >> "I had to...I couldn't think of any other way..."Slowly Wes found the strength to stand up, and backed up lightly into the wall behind him that he didn’t have the spacial awareness to notice. All he could do now was slide down the wall to the ground, with his head buried in his arms. >> “My brother’s fighting alone. It was all I could do…”Wes coughed a bit of water out of his throat. >> “If you take me, I don’t think he would hold back anymore. I have to be there. I don’t have anything else...Just...take what you want back and go. Food’s right over there...somewhere...”The knot in his stomach compelled him to bawl his eyes out, but he held it back. >> “Or just beat me up some more. I’m tired of running. I deserve it. Just make it quick and just...leave me alone. You won’t get anything from turning me in; I’m just a nobody. And it’ll probably stay that way."▲ WORD COUNT: 1,300 ● NOTES: He probably does need a shower one of these days but...
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Post by Deleted on Sept 8, 2020 2:01:24 GMT -4
Desmoshi's anger was coming to the surface. He had been holding in for some time now. But now being in this position made him feel like people were beyond saving. Why wouldn't he listen? He just wanted to help! 'Kid,' Ame said in the back of his mind. 'You need to chill out.' But Ame's words were lost to Desmoshi. He was confused and angry. Just like when he fought Ikari in middle school. And again in the riots. The time where his friends got hurt because of him. Because he couldn't lead properly. Because he couldn't save anyone. Especially his sister.
Desmoshi stood over the young boy. He was done. He was at the point where talking was just not working. And he was going to end this fight and turn him in. That was until what the boy said next. He was doing it for his brother? He was giving up. He was surrendering as long as Desmoshi wouldn't turn him in. And he was willing to give up the food. And it was that moment Desmoshi's rage subsided. The water evaporated, a look of sadness on his face. What the guys were trying to do was feed his brother. Trying to survive. Desmoshi wanted to help him. That's why he came to him and follow him. Not to hurt him. But to help him.
Flashback
Ikari was pissed, to say the least. He jumped back away from Desmoshi, giving himself some room. "That's fine and dandy," Ikari said smiling. He grew massive, his muscles seemingly larger than when they started. "My quirk doesn't only increase my muscles but repairs it too. No matter how fast you hit me," he said charging Desmoshi with a barrage of punches, "you can never beat me, freak!" The fists seem to come in slow motion for Desmoshi. His training at UA. His hard work. It all came down to this. His body was hitting its limit. He was ending this now.
Desmoshi dodged each fist at rapid speed, getting closer and closer to Ikari. "So what?" Desmoshi asked, referring to his earlier statement. "I still hit faster and harder than you. I'll show you!" He cocked back, a clicking sound like a gun heard throughout the battleground. He continued to dodge each punch although few hit him. Yeah, he was slowing down. Finishing this now. "WIND BREATHING! ELEVENTH FORM! KING WOLF GATTLING GUN!"
With the might yell of his technique, he sent a barrage of giant wolf-shaped fists at Ikari, who stood horrified at the sight before him. It was like he was seeing a hundred of them, but he couldn't stop them. Each hit felt like a ton of bricks as Desmoshi continued his assault on the unsuspecting criminal. The hits continue until he was sent flying through another wall, causing huge rocks and debris from the impact.
Desmoshi stopped his assault, the energy from his cloak fading away. He was still able to walk, but he was spent. He needed to get back to his friends before he passed out. "You think it is over?" The voice came from the smoke as a skinny version of Ikari walked out. "IT'S NOT OVER! I AM STRONGER THAN YOU FREAK! I AM-" Before he could finish he collapsed to the ground. coughing up blood. "What the heck?" Desmoshi limped over, standing over his demons. "The Wolf King Boxer technique isn't focused on power," Desmoshi said, heavily breathing. "It's focused on hitting points and causing internal damage. In boxing, the ribs and temple are the most dangerous spots to get hit. That's what I did to you. Plus, you wore out your quirk and feeling the exhaustion from it. It's over."
Ikari laughed madly, looking up at the young Haymaker. "I know who you are," he said. "I know your name. I know your sister. I'll tell everyone!" Desmoshi looked at his opponent feeling sorry for him. "So?" Desmoshi answered. "I never planned on hiding who I was anyway. I was only doing it for the UA program. I am not that important anyone would care anyway. My goal is to obtain among all. Not worry about who knows my identity."
Desmoshi turned around and started to limp off slowly. "The cops will come and get you. I didn't come to fight, but to help civilians like I was told to. Fighting shouldn't be used in means of violence or to cause pain. It should only be used to help others. I want to help you. But you need to help yourself first." Desmoshi turned around to Ikari, still seeing him on the ground. "If you want help, you can come to UA for it. When you want it. Other than that, I am not fighting anymore tonight. I am going home with my friends and that's that." Desmoshi climbed back through the hole he came through, the sounds of Ikari screaming at him echoing behind him.
Flashback Ended.
He couldn't help Ikari that day. But he would be damned if he couldn't help this guy. He went over and grab the food. "I'm not here to turn you in," he said holding out the food for him. "I wanted to know why you took that food in the first place. Now I know. And I wanted to let you know that I gave money to the man you stole it from. So he wouldn't report you when he found out." Desmoshi held out his other hand for the guy to help him up. "As I said before," he said with a smile, "I only want to help. Not fight."
Desmoshi was being honest. He didn't want any more violence or anger. It only left people hurt. All he wanted to help people as best as they can. So he could establish peace among everyone. Even if the guy broke the law, he did it to help his brother. Something Desmoshi could understand. His hand was still held out if the kid wanted to take it.
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Post by Wesker Atkinson on Sept 12, 2020 22:02:50 GMT -4
| IF THE WORLD'S ONLY GONNA SEE A FOX AS SHIFTY AND UNTRUSTWORTHY, THERE'S NO POINT IN TRYING TO BE ANYTHING ELSE | |
There he was...listening to this kid tell him that he's here to help. The more this guy insisted on his principals...the more schools of confusing feelings swam over him. Four-eyes should have just kicked Wesker around a bit and moved on. It's happened twice so far in his lifetime, why not a third? But he ...still didn't fight. Wes deserved this. Just finish the job already. The anticipation turned his stomach in knots. Wes stopped shuddering for a moment and looked up, misty eyed and still soaked from the impact. Wes must have looked just as pathetic as he felt in that moment. The boy grabbed the food, and came closer. >> "As I said before...I only want to help. Not fight."The kid's hand floated there patiently outstretched for Wes. To help him up maybe? Why? He tried for a moment to reciprocate. Wes' arms were burdened by something he couldn’t really pin down. He reluctantly stopped, pulling his hand back again slowly. Maybe the false sense of security was part of his plan…if Wes didn’t stick to his principles and keep his guard up, what good was he? He’d be just asking to be betrayed. He wrapped his arms around himself, still unsure exactly what to do. He still couldn't find the strength to make eye contact… >> "I'm..."Could he really get his hopes up? There was someone out there with good intentions, and no ulterior motive?...He tried speaking to him again, barely louder than an inside voice at a public library. >> "I...well...my name's Wes.”He refrained from a full name for now. He also had to cut the sentence short and cough a bit for the back of his irritated throat. >> “I kinda...got jumped by someone that said they wanted to help as well a few weeks ago, but she was still...well...it seemed like a lie. And our friend proved it. She was still trying to capture us. She didn’t manage to hurt us but...her words made up for that…”Wes tried wiping his face of any amount of water now that he noticed a cold evening breeze drifting through his body. At this time of night, his sad situation was quickly chilling him to the bone. The skin on his arm was at least dry enough to use, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrist. It allowed his vision to improve a step up from “underwater” and “legally blind”. Wes could see behind the kid’s glasses were eyes that practiced patient looks, and a smile that always made amends with the people he’d met in his life before...probably. It was difficult for Wes to fathom the aura he got from this guy. But maybe he could assume better of someone for once? Could he even do that? Somehow his mouth continued to run a bit longer; Wes still couldn’t manage more than a thin, fragile voice. With the water mostly out of his throat, he managed to address the stranger a bit differently this time. >> “I’m sorry... but my mind was...in a few different places, that were... far from here. You must have introduced yourself already but I probably couldn’t bring myself to listen. Who are you? You’re called...a ‘UA’. Do you...have a job doing this...whatever this is? Counselling? Is there even such a thing for street rats like me? I just...don’t understand why anyone would just...”His hands pressed firmly against his forehead as he leaned forward from his seated position against the wall. He signed deeply but did not manage to slow his breathing down very much. His blood was still pumping from their confrontation; neither Wes nor his body expected the fight to just...end like this. And he felt more vulnerable the longer he shared details about his life to a stranger that chased after him, like he was falling into an even worse hole than before. >> “I don’t really know how you could even help us now...I’m so confused...why haven’t you just...given me what I deserve and walked off by now? People don’t just...do that to random strangers...”▲ WORD COUNT: 685 ● NOTES:
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Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2020 2:16:39 GMT -4
Desmoshi could feel it from Wes. The fear of being able to trust others. The feeling of being left unguarded, the moment of vulnerability before others who could take advantage of it. Desmoshi knew that feeling too well. Those who think who would be your friend end up being the ones that betray and use you for their own gain. The boy's hand almost looked like it would take him, but he slowly pulled away.
Wes introduced himself, trying to get the water out of his eyes. He admitted that he was trick like this before- someone who promised to help him. But instead of helping him, they abused that trust, causing him not to see good in others. Desmoshi was not planning to abuse his trust. He truly wanted to help Wes.
"I'm Desmoshi," Desmoshi said with a smile kneeling next to him. "Here let me help." Desmoshi activated his quirk and a gentle breeze came by, attempting to help to dry Wes off. "I am being honest. I am trying to help. If I wanted you to get you in trouble, I would have reported back when you stole that money. I use to travel to the States with my dad for vacations, so I have seen it once or twice before." Desmoshi sat on the ground. "Don't worry about him. I gave him some money and told him that he dropped it in the store, so you're good."
Desmoshi looked towards the sky, thinking back to when he had to learn the inner workings of Japan's rough and tough streets. At the time, he was doing it for survival, getting his sister home safely each day after school. He had to learn the streets to avoid the dangers. But now he was using what he learned to help others. He wanted to change that and get rid of the fears everyone had. He wanted to be the person that people put their trust in.
"I am no counselor," Desmoshi said, looking at Wes. "But I do know how it is to survive on the streets from time to time. Even though we had a lot of money, we lived in the tough parts of Tokyo City. I had to learn to get around safely with my sister. So my trust in people and how they viewed us was minimal. That is until I came to UA. Being at UA change my views of things. I got to meet people from all walks of life and I want to be able to protect those who have to live a life on the streets."
Desmoshi smiled at Wes. "We may come from different walks of life, but I believe we are all human by the end of the day. And the only way to get through the tough times is by helping each other." Desmoshi might not have to live on the streets, but he did have to learn how to survive it. That's why he kind of knew where Wes was coming from. "I am not here to trick you. I am here to help. It's up to you if you want me to though. I will help the right way and as best as I can." Desmoshi looked at the food he was holding. "So," Desmoshi asked, "were you getting the food for your brother? You mentioned "brother" and "us" so that's who I assume you are doing this for. Don't you two have a home to go to?" Desmoshi didn't want to butt into the man's personal affairs, but he needed to know all the details if he was going to be able to help him.
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Post by Wesker Atkinson on Oct 21, 2020 4:36:53 GMT -4
| IF THE WORLD'S ONLY GONNA SEE A FOX AS SHIFTY AND UNTRUSTWORTHY, THERE'S NO POINT IN TRYING TO BE ANYTHING ELSE | |
Des threw out a gentle breeze his way. It sent shivers all over, but maybe it wasn't quite as effective as Desmoshi intended. Wes came out the other side feeling like he was just on the receiving end of the first few seconds of a blow dryer, but the heating coil hadn't fully warmed up yet. The gesture was...nice though. And still unexpected. The situation continued to feel dream-like and confusing. >> "I am being honest. I am trying to help. If I wanted you to get you in trouble, I would have reported back when you stole that money. I used to travel to the States with my dad for vacations, so I have seen it once or twice before."Desmoshi walked closer and sat beside him. Wes' heartbeat increased again; he wasn't prepared to be this vulnerable for this long. Wes leaned his head back on his arms with his eyes tightly re-closed. >> "At least he...had enough to spare in the first place but...">> "Don't worry about him. I gave him some money and told him that he dropped it in the store, so you're good."Wes looked back at him with one eye, rubbing the other to stop it from being so twitchy and irritated. >> "You...did? You actually covered for me instead? I can hardly believe that...I don't really know what to believe lately, I guess. Nothing really makes all that much sense these last few weeks. I still can't believe I thought I could get away with like this by myself.">> "I am no counselor...But I do know how it is to survive on the streets from time to time. Even though we had a lot of money, we lived in the tough parts of Tokyo City. I had to learn to get around safely with my sister. So my trust in people and how they viewed us was minimal. That is until I came to UA. Being at UA changed my views of things. I got to meet people from all walks of life and I want to be able to protect those who have to live a life on the streets."He looked up from his position and blinked in confusion. Grew up in a tough neighborhood...AND had money? How does a person find themselves in that kind of situation, 50-50? Still...Wesker kept his mouth shut out of the need to be polite. Save your doubts for afterward, ya damn blabbermouth...Desmoshi flashed a smile that basically blinded Wes where he sat. >> "We may come from different walks of life, but I believe we are all human by the end of the day. And the only way to get through the tough times is by helping each other."Against the new kid's wishes, the smile stung a bit. What could Wes even say?...What could Desmoshi even do about this...messed up story of their lives up tot his point?...Wes was being set up to make his brother mad at him for trusting a stranger...or to end up lying to someone who probably doesn't deserve it either. >> "I am not here to trick you. I am here to help. It's up to you if you want me to though. I will help the right way and as best as I can."Asking anything of this guy would be risky...and it would be wrong. Wes and his brother dug this hole together. It wasn't anyone else's problem to stitch his life back together. And if he slipped and asked for help, everything they've had going on would be too much for one person to even try to scratch the surface of. >> "Were you getting the food for your brother? You mentioned "brother" and "us" so that's who I assume you are doing this for. Don't you two have a home to go to?">> "Yeah well...we got a place. It's this house where w-"No use lying at this point. Or describing their old home to feel better about lying through a half-truth. His head rested on top of his folded arms again. Habits were pretty hard to break if seemed. >> "Not anymore...we came off some...bad stuff in the U.S. and right afterward we had to take off and land here; our relative in Japan was not very...open-minded. So just like that our plan fell through. It's been a pretty long time since then."How long could Wes go before revealing that they were both quirkers? The entire conflict that day was based on having and using quirks, after all. Was it worth holding back something so fundamental to his life at this point? How else was he going to explain his situation? Any story would probably stop making sense without explaining what him and his brother were really capable of. He had to attempt a topic change. Maybe he could still manage to keep from saying too much without biting at the cage bars of this whole predicament. >> "So...I should probably ask. Are most UA students this...absurd? You're like the angel version of a trained mercenary. Are there a lot of kids like you? I've never seen anything like it in Chicago...or anywhere in the U.S. before. Through all of the places we'd been... People with power only seem to run rampant with them... or maybe they would rather keep it to themselves most of the time, because they're scared of the world turning on them for having an edge on the rest of the world." Whoops, that was a bit too specific. It just seemed to slip out, not-so-gracefully. Geez that was so...off-topic. Wes really was tiring by the minute. Maybe that blatant projection of his own experiences wouldn't register for Des as obviously as it did for Wesker. >> "I just find all of that...hard to believe. That there’s a bunch of people just...running around solving problems. Not just that they have superhuman abilities but...that they don't just do what everyone else seems to do when given the opportunity. It’s absurd. It doesn’t...make sense."It still felt like nothing was really solved, and that Wes was talking in circles. Interacting with Wes was...so complicated, and it chewed him up inside. Trying to say things and be friendly rather then confrontational on accident just felt like digging a hole to jump back into. His thoughts continued to crawl around frantically. This guy surely couldn’t be so selfless to people he hadn’t met before? Don't those kinds of people only exist in storybooks to make children feel better about the world before they grow up and get proven wrong? He pondered what he could even reasonably ask someone like Des...and it seemed as though fate had decided there would be no good answer. ▲ WORD COUNT: 1,126 ● NOTES: Press X to doubt
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