Post by Aaron Hollows on Aug 29, 2015 3:39:11 GMT -5
LG. Riot. Pillars. Apex.
552.
Aaron was a shade in the background. A member of faculty, not to get involved with the problems of the youth. Wasn’t that…what was put out, in the messages their inactivity sent to the students? Of course, he had his own reasons for remaining out of the spotlight. His siblings, already a target, didn’t need their brother adding fuel to the flames. He was in an abandoned warehouse, sitting in a chair. Across the mat, was a picture of his mother and father. Next to that was Phoebe, who had an arm draped around Allen’s shoulders. It was about a year ago, for them. His dad, years gone. His mom, a few months. Phoebe…didn’t smile like that so much anymore, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Allen laugh. His brothers eyes were always on a horizon in the future now, to protecting his family. Aaron was fuzz on the TV in the background, while they scraped and clawed their way back into relevance.
“Problem being every one around us have become these unstoppable monsters of destruction. It was due to the conflict Riot caused….”
He mulled Leons works in his head. Riot….were a problem. This entire situation, to Aaron, was fucked. But he also heard rumors, and listened to what his brother told him. That there was another group, intent to bring harm to 552 and the city. And they were…far worse than Riot could ever dream of being. Aaron looked back over at the pictures of his family, the happiness of lives wrecked and lost in recent past.
He stood, and stretched a moment. Then he stared at a picture of his mother. She was smiling, giving a little wave….frozen in time. What had happened to her? Who…did this? Riot…Riot….they found pleasure in the pain of others. Aaron slowly set down the picture. He was the rock of this family now- always steady, letting the water wash against his surface. Making sure they did their schoolwork. He walked over to a large pillar. Making sure they were strong, and felt safe and secure in his arms. He put a hand against the stone. Making sure his parents legacy didn’t end because of him. Because he was afraid. He punched the stone pillar, causing it to shake a little. His right hand came up to his face and he held it a moment.
His mother….mom….she was still so young…..the kind of death she suffered through was something he didn’t have to imagine. He saw things…horrors first hand. To picture her from the smiling woman there to nothing more than a cut open, raped, tortured shell of a being. Did she wonder where her savior was? Did she wonder if, like in the movies, the door would be kicked down and a knight would be there, ready to bring down the baddies and whisk her off home? He didn’t know…she was just there one day, and gone the next.
His next punch obliterated the pillar. It was a defunct stone erection anyway- metal works all over the place held the building in place for the most part. Still…the feeling of it crumbling felt good. He lost himself in misery for a moment- and just like that, without that firm grip, it slipped through his fingers. He spun on his left foot, sweeping a right kick for the bottom half of the stone, causing it to explode away what was left. His hands snatched up, gripping the top part and giving a shout of exertion as he tore the fucking thing from the ceiling. Rubble fell en-masse on him, stones smashing into his head, shoulders, arms…and breaking apart, crumbling on his body. He barely felt a tingle of pain.
It wasn’t enough.
He hurled the stone over to the chair, which was just a collapsable one and was easily crushed. He turn and ran over to another pillar, leaping through the air for a cross spring kick, smashing through the second pillar. As he landed on the other side of it, he lashed out with a right cross, smashing a fist sized chunk out of the left side of it. Bringing his upper body and head down and charged forward, tackle/spearing through the middle of it and landing on the other side, the bottom half of the stone beneath him. More crumbled down onto his back, scratching him here and there for irritating little pangs but otherwise leaving him to ground and pound the stone under him into dust. His shoulder was also a little red from the blunt damage he did to the rock. He stood over his fallen “foe”, fists clenched and covered in “blood”. This…didn’t satisfy him. He couldn’t let out the anger and hatred he needed to without-
“Give me your wallet.”
Aaron stood straighter. He had been distracted. He felt the knife against his back. He slowly turned his head a little to see the man with his hood up, hat pulled down low. Five eleven. Stout. White, bearded. Mid thirties. Probably homeless. Desperate. He heard the noise, though Aaron was working out and could make a few quick bucks.
How fortunate.
Aaron spun at, for the homeless man, a blinding speed. His left and would snatch the wrist, the shock and fear lighting the fellows dark brown eyes for the first time. He swung wide, clocking Aaron across the jaw. The large males head bare turned, his eyes a little closed as the man struggled to pull his arm free. Aaron clutched tighter, feeling the beginnings of bones crunching. The older guy cried out, falling to his knees. Aaron turned his head back toward him and opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry it was me you picked. And I’m sorry it was today.”
His mothers birthday.
He threw a knee up into the mans jaw, feeling it fracture. Blood spewed from his mouth and the knife fell, arm going more slack than before. He bent and picked up the body, one hand grabbing his pants at the waist, the other gripping his shirt at the chest. He lifted him up over his head and threw him with a roar, his hip smashing into a metal beam, more snapping of bones being heard. He could hear crying after a cough or two. The man began to try and crawl toward the door, weekly crying out for help before Aaron curb stomped the back his face into the concrete. A splash zone of blood and teeth scattered outward. Aaron would turn his back on the man, hand coming up to grip the shoulder he had smashed into the pillar with earlier. Tears started to form, and fall, and he slowly slid down the wall.
He sat on the ground and ignored everything else, including the sleeping man beside him, and would stay there for most of the morning. Once it hit ten, he supposed, he would have to head out but....he figured he had plenty of time.
OOC: If you'd like to join in, shoot me a PM and keep in mind he's quite unstable. Otherwise, closed as a placeholder.
552.
Aaron was a shade in the background. A member of faculty, not to get involved with the problems of the youth. Wasn’t that…what was put out, in the messages their inactivity sent to the students? Of course, he had his own reasons for remaining out of the spotlight. His siblings, already a target, didn’t need their brother adding fuel to the flames. He was in an abandoned warehouse, sitting in a chair. Across the mat, was a picture of his mother and father. Next to that was Phoebe, who had an arm draped around Allen’s shoulders. It was about a year ago, for them. His dad, years gone. His mom, a few months. Phoebe…didn’t smile like that so much anymore, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Allen laugh. His brothers eyes were always on a horizon in the future now, to protecting his family. Aaron was fuzz on the TV in the background, while they scraped and clawed their way back into relevance.
“Problem being every one around us have become these unstoppable monsters of destruction. It was due to the conflict Riot caused….”
He mulled Leons works in his head. Riot….were a problem. This entire situation, to Aaron, was fucked. But he also heard rumors, and listened to what his brother told him. That there was another group, intent to bring harm to 552 and the city. And they were…far worse than Riot could ever dream of being. Aaron looked back over at the pictures of his family, the happiness of lives wrecked and lost in recent past.
He stood, and stretched a moment. Then he stared at a picture of his mother. She was smiling, giving a little wave….frozen in time. What had happened to her? Who…did this? Riot…Riot….they found pleasure in the pain of others. Aaron slowly set down the picture. He was the rock of this family now- always steady, letting the water wash against his surface. Making sure they did their schoolwork. He walked over to a large pillar. Making sure they were strong, and felt safe and secure in his arms. He put a hand against the stone. Making sure his parents legacy didn’t end because of him. Because he was afraid. He punched the stone pillar, causing it to shake a little. His right hand came up to his face and he held it a moment.
His mother….mom….she was still so young…..the kind of death she suffered through was something he didn’t have to imagine. He saw things…horrors first hand. To picture her from the smiling woman there to nothing more than a cut open, raped, tortured shell of a being. Did she wonder where her savior was? Did she wonder if, like in the movies, the door would be kicked down and a knight would be there, ready to bring down the baddies and whisk her off home? He didn’t know…she was just there one day, and gone the next.
His next punch obliterated the pillar. It was a defunct stone erection anyway- metal works all over the place held the building in place for the most part. Still…the feeling of it crumbling felt good. He lost himself in misery for a moment- and just like that, without that firm grip, it slipped through his fingers. He spun on his left foot, sweeping a right kick for the bottom half of the stone, causing it to explode away what was left. His hands snatched up, gripping the top part and giving a shout of exertion as he tore the fucking thing from the ceiling. Rubble fell en-masse on him, stones smashing into his head, shoulders, arms…and breaking apart, crumbling on his body. He barely felt a tingle of pain.
It wasn’t enough.
He hurled the stone over to the chair, which was just a collapsable one and was easily crushed. He turn and ran over to another pillar, leaping through the air for a cross spring kick, smashing through the second pillar. As he landed on the other side of it, he lashed out with a right cross, smashing a fist sized chunk out of the left side of it. Bringing his upper body and head down and charged forward, tackle/spearing through the middle of it and landing on the other side, the bottom half of the stone beneath him. More crumbled down onto his back, scratching him here and there for irritating little pangs but otherwise leaving him to ground and pound the stone under him into dust. His shoulder was also a little red from the blunt damage he did to the rock. He stood over his fallen “foe”, fists clenched and covered in “blood”. This…didn’t satisfy him. He couldn’t let out the anger and hatred he needed to without-
“Give me your wallet.”
Aaron stood straighter. He had been distracted. He felt the knife against his back. He slowly turned his head a little to see the man with his hood up, hat pulled down low. Five eleven. Stout. White, bearded. Mid thirties. Probably homeless. Desperate. He heard the noise, though Aaron was working out and could make a few quick bucks.
How fortunate.
Aaron spun at, for the homeless man, a blinding speed. His left and would snatch the wrist, the shock and fear lighting the fellows dark brown eyes for the first time. He swung wide, clocking Aaron across the jaw. The large males head bare turned, his eyes a little closed as the man struggled to pull his arm free. Aaron clutched tighter, feeling the beginnings of bones crunching. The older guy cried out, falling to his knees. Aaron turned his head back toward him and opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry it was me you picked. And I’m sorry it was today.”
His mothers birthday.
He threw a knee up into the mans jaw, feeling it fracture. Blood spewed from his mouth and the knife fell, arm going more slack than before. He bent and picked up the body, one hand grabbing his pants at the waist, the other gripping his shirt at the chest. He lifted him up over his head and threw him with a roar, his hip smashing into a metal beam, more snapping of bones being heard. He could hear crying after a cough or two. The man began to try and crawl toward the door, weekly crying out for help before Aaron curb stomped the back his face into the concrete. A splash zone of blood and teeth scattered outward. Aaron would turn his back on the man, hand coming up to grip the shoulder he had smashed into the pillar with earlier. Tears started to form, and fall, and he slowly slid down the wall.
He sat on the ground and ignored everything else, including the sleeping man beside him, and would stay there for most of the morning. Once it hit ten, he supposed, he would have to head out but....he figured he had plenty of time.
OOC: If you'd like to join in, shoot me a PM and keep in mind he's quite unstable. Otherwise, closed as a placeholder.