Post by hitzane on Jan 20, 2007 18:38:50 GMT -4
The cold air hits his face as he walks through the darkness of the night. His hair hangs limp around his head, whats the point of getting all dressed up when theres no assurance that anyone will notice you. His footsteps bounce back at him off the walls of the surrounding buildings. Aside from the tapping of his shoes and the chaos in his head, all is silent.
[/i]My life...not theirs...its mine.
His mind roams through nightmares of his past. His father, or his personal Satan more like. He sees lights up ahead and figures he might as well go forward. He got directions from some old haggard bum in a back alley but who's more reliable, someone who's richer then you and doesn't give a damn about where you end up...or someone under you on the social ladder who would love to be where your at? So our anti-hero tends to stray away from the rich and famous. Being raised by them isn't exactly the cherry on top of a sundae...its more like...salt poured into your lungs. He didn't really pay much attention while getting dressed in the morning, people were gonna look at him and shake their heads anyways so what the point of trying to impress them with some form of "fashion sense"? Nothing more then a pair of dark jeans and an old, torn FINCH hoody cling to his body. He looks around, observing the skyline. Corporation after corporation...America has always been such a sad case. The scrolling text sign atop of one of the building reads "APW Has Arrived In Seattle"...[/i]
I guess that old hobo was right.
His pace quickens slightly...not out of excitement just out of the want to get there now. His feet hit the ground harder now as his pace reaches a light jog. It reminds him of the times that he used to run at the asylum...carrying all sorts of random things, bricks, food whatever. But he's not the governments errand boy anymore. He's escaped that life. He arrives at the doors of the arena quicker then he expected. He looks through the doors and sees the security guard, sleeping on the job.[/i]
Cliche authority.[/size]
He pulls the doors open and walks in, his skin warming thanks to the heating system of the building. Not that it was overly cold out, its just nice to have the warmth. He taps the bell on the desk at which the guard has fallen asleep. He hits it a little harder waiting for the man to awaken. He keeps hitting it but to no avail.[/i]
Wake up you fat fuck!
Jared picks up the bell and throws it at the guards head. Not overly hard...don't need to be kicked out on the first day here. The guard awakens as the bell ricochets off his large head, flying away onto the floor.[/i]
Oh uh...sorry I must have dozed off.
No kidding.
What? Uh...oh...name?
Hitzane...Jared Hitzane.
Ah your that new kid that everyones talking about. Weren't you some kind of nut job or something? Hey...where'd the bell go.
Some "hooligans" must have stolen it. And yeah...I'm the new kid. And the new kid wants in the damn building.
Okay, okay...pushy pushy.
The guard presses a button on his desk and the doors open up. Jared walks into the lobby area and sets down the duffel bag he had slung over his shoulder, minutes after getting off of his plane. He drops it next to a chair and sits down in it, closing his eyes. Maybe he can catch a few z's before the hustle and bustle of the arriving morning. Not knowing where he's supposed to room or go, he does as he usually would and adapts to it. He lets his muscles loosen as he sinks into the chair and drifts off to sleep.[/i]
*TBC by anyone[/center]