Little White Lies (A battle of two bands)

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Katrina looked up at the voice with a smirk on her face. "Oh you know, no big deal, I was flat on that last note again." She said with a slight disappointed tone to her voice. She got off her knees, wanting to make a dick sucking joke, but deciding that it was an inapporiate time, decided against that. She brushed her black leggings off and returned to her spot on the old grungy couch. "Did you happen to bring me any white rice?" She asked as she reached for a box of the delicious smelling Chinese food. She opened the top and grabbed a pair of chopsticks, breaking them in half and preparing to eat the chicken and rice. Shallowing before answering the question. "Nope you're the first one." She glanced at the clock, it was getting pretty late. "You'd think for a mandatory rehearsal people would be on time." She said with a smirk as she put the chopsticks between her lips again. Opening up her phone she texted
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With a quick tap on the "send" button she shut her phone off and turned to Liona. "What do you think about this battle of the bands thing? Think we can take the anarchists?" She asked with a confident smirk. She unwrapped a fortune cookie and smiled as she broke open the cookie as she unraveled the paper hidden inside. "Good luck is coming your way." 'Perfect'

Just then, she heard a banging on the garage door and got up from her delicious food to pull open the door. "Oh hey girl" She said with a smile and invited the girl in. "You're just in time for food, thanks to our lovely Liona" She joked as she sat back down. "We were actually just discussing our rivals. Any comments?" She asked with a devilish grin.
 
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Saul set his feet on the ledge of the window with care, twisting them at an angle to align them along the narrow stretch of wood. He crouched then, one arm clutching the side for security while he lugged the plastic case through the window. I need to get one of those with straps like Krim. This would be so much easier. Amidst all the typical noises of the neighborhood and city, he heard the cry of some adolescent rise up and cut off, making his frown deepen. Kids must be out now. It was after school for them too, so he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Still, he hoped they would save all of their usual squealing for after he had left, or at least until he had managed to pull up a particular song from his memory bank to help tune them out.

However, just as he had managed to pull his bass the rest of the way out, the voice continued, and with the close proximity of it, he finally realized it was being directed toward him. Ugh, I bet it's the next-door neighbor's boy again. With a clack, his bass finally settled on the ledge right next to him, leaning it carefully against the woodwork until he was certain it would not fall. Then, as he had resigned to do the next time he crossed paths with the boy who had called out to him on that one day he had been caught trying to sneak out of the house, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," Saul held his free arm out, letting his middle finger sail freely through the air.

With that out of the way, and the satisfaction that always came with shooting someone the bird, he smiled at his room as he began to push the window down. Saul struggled somewhat with his balance, surprising for how many times he has done this, but with jerking motions, the window had nearly slid to a shut when a particular detail called his attention. He fingers froze on the dusty window sill, and his smile dropped, his brows knitting together. That sounded monotonous, as opposed to the cracking voice of that pre-pubescent meat-head.

Fastening his hold on everything, even going so far as to curl his toes, he slowly turned his head over his shoulder to look down at him, the omnipresent threat of gravity's tug making him feel as though he would fall at any moment. However, once he had gotten over the overwhelming sense of I'm-going-to-slip-and-fall-and-die and could properly register the face of the figure that stood below him, arms outstretched, he stared in disbelief, expression blanked.

That's... that's that kid. He's... what? Saul attempted to compile and run through a list of possible reasons that this boy could be doing... whatever he was doing. Okay, he's with them. I've never talk to him before, just sort of let him know I'm better than him. Does it have anything to do with that? Belatedly, the words finally registered in his mind. Cry? Why would they... The answer dawned on him, after fruitless grappling over theories that didn't even make any sense. Saul's expression darkened. He's mocking me again. Their band is trying to sabotage us being in the competition and somehow he's figured out I'm grounded. He's going to blackmail me for either sneaking out or for being in a band in the first place, depending on how much he knows. The boy scowled down at the other bass player all the more, an anger churning in the pit of his stomach. How could you possibly know? Church? I've never seen you there before.

Saul turned away finally, relieved to be in a more stable position. I'm not going to let you get away with this. Not in a million years. You're going down. He slammed the window the rest of the way shut and snatched the handle of his bass to finally begin his descent. With one hand gripping the ledge he was poised on, he held the bass out just below the window sill before he lowered himself, having to significantly tighten the muscles in his abdomen as he did so. Soon, his feet found purchase on the next ledge, and he steadied himself there. Saul looked over, judging it to be a short enough distance between his bass and the ground for the case to muffle the impact, he dropped his guitar on the lawn below with a soft plop. With his right arm free again, he clamped his palm around the woodwork before pushing himself to the ground, and to his credit, only stumbling minimally before he had recovered all of his balance.

Saul whipped around on the boy, properly fixing him with his glowering expression. "You think you or anyone else can stop me?" he demanded. He internally cringed at the forced phrasing, but it was the best he could come up with on the fly, and he had to get his point across. His parents would not be able to prevent him from going to practice even if they found a way to make his present 'grounded' status even more sever, not after this kid deliberately tried to threaten him. "You can just forget about it. I'm going."
 
Liona Arielle Stone

As she placed the food down she looked over at Katrina and replied,

"Don't worry bout it after you warm up your voice a bit and drink some tea you'll be able to hit higher notes. And yeah there's plenty of white rice in there."

The blue eyed girl stated to her friend as Kat already began to rummage through the bags. The blonde opened up another bag and removed a cup and a large soup container filled with tea. She took a seat on the couch as well before pouring some of the sweetened tea into her cup before replacing the plastic top upon the container and placing the transparent tub upon the garage floor. She fished through her purse and poured some hand sanitizer into the palm of her hand, as she was about to offer som hand sanitizer to Katrina she noticed that the other girl already dug in so the blonde shrugged and sipped on her tea before responding to the question that reached her ears. A confident smile appeared upon her face and her blue eyes sparkled with determination and strength,

"You know damn well there's no way in hell we'll loose. After all we all aren't ready to back down and stick our tails between our asses right? So when we battle against the 'We the Assholes' as I like to call them, we have the perfect opportunity to show them who's boss and why they ought to go take their asses to the sewers and see if the rats enjoy their cry for help that they dare to call music."

She stated confidently before sipping upon her tea once more as a new but well known voice reached her ears she turned to see her other fellow band member Blood stroll in.

"Hey Blood what's up. There's Chinese food in the bags and tea here if you want some. I recommend you take your pick before the others arrive. And why thank you Katrina for the wonderful compliment."

She stated with a smile as a greeting before pointing to the various items as she spoke to Blood. After she finished her statement the blue eyed girl returned to sipping upon the cold liquid that danced among her tastebuds with the slightly tart/sour taste of lemon. The flavors harmonized themselves upon her tongue as if they were creating a song of their own.
 
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Krim slowly guided his car to the curb of the street, steadily coming to a halt in-front of drakes house. While he switched off the ignition he pulled out his cell phone and began to text drake.

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As he hit send krim quickly flipped the phone in-between his fingers and slid it back into his pocket. He pushed open the driver's side door grunting as he twisted in his seat so that his legs hung out to the street. He placed both on the ground and climbed out of the clunker and gave a stretch and a small yawn. he walked toward the back slamming the door behind him before he strayed too far. Krim would then open the rear driver's side door and begin fumbling around being halfway into the car, bent forward fidgeting as if he was wrestling with the back seat. As he rose up from his personal battle in hand he would have his guitar, and two pizza's stacked quite clumsily on top, appearing to be prone to do nothing but fall off the edge of his guitar case to the ground. Krim wore a "happy" smile as he shut the car door with a sway of his hips and began to stroll toward drakes front door. And as the leaning tower of pizza faltered he was quick to save the meal he had planned for his band mates taking a sigh of relief as he once again continued on his path.
 
Belle nodded with a faint, false smile. "Yeah, of course.. See ya there," she replied in response to Lacey's point. Jeez. Either these people really hate you, or they're deaf. Everyone knows you keep an extra set at Drake's for practices and that we use for performances so you don't have to lug your other one around all the time.. Hell, you said all you had to do before going to practice is stop at a gas station. I'mmmm... Thinking the first option. Or both of you are wrong, and it's BOTH options! Hmm... Touche. Luckily for Belle, the sudden embrace from Lacey caused the voices in her head to fall silent. She blinked in surprise, unaccustomed to physical contact herself. Though, before she could decide on whether or not to hug back, Lacey had pulled away, and had taken off with Gauge. ....Dude. She HUGGED you. Nobody ever TOUCHES you; let alone HUGS you. Exactly. She sighed heavily, grimacing at the voices talking over each other in her mind, tapping her drumsticks against her legs. It appeared she was the last one left... So, she set off reluctantly, heading to where she thought she'd left her mom's car, only to find that she hadn't left it there. That was yesterday, despite her lack of knowledge of this. Yesterday afternoon happened to be the last time Belle was in control, thus, leading her to believe that it was still the same day, and that today she had taken the car. Damn it. Looked like she was walking. So, grumbling unhappily, she pulled out her phone, shooting a reply to the band's group message, first. It read:

"Hey, guys. May be a bit late to practice, unless someone can pick me up. Sorry. -Belle"
Then, the brunette reluctantly set towards Drake's house. So much for her plan to stop at a gas station for a few water bottles... Walking would take her forever.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bloodrayne smiled at Kat as she opened the door, offering a small wave. "Hey!" she replied, cheerily, walking in after her and glancing around. Spotting Liona, she waved to her. Though, she glanced back at Kat at the comment, tilting her head and glancing back to Liona with a smile. "Oh.. Well, thanks Liona, but I'm good. I ate before I came," she lied smoothly. She'd never admit it to her friends, of course, but almost never ate anything, even a small bite.. It wasn't because she found herself fat, considering she knew she was skinny(almost unhealthily so), it was just that she was never hungry. "Tea sounds great though. What kind?" she chimed the inquiry, tilting her head. Though, she only gave a small shrug at the mention of WTA. "Oh, I dunno.." she mused, biting her cheek. Unlike her fellow band members, Rayne took no interest in the rivalry. Personally, she found WTA to be a great band. She just wished all the fighting over who was better would stop, and that the bands would realize they were equally great-sounding. "I just wish the fighting would stop.." she admitted, almost inaudibly, as she looked down to the floor. Her blue eyes hid a pain that overwhelmed her more often than not; especially when the bands clashed. Though, she cleared her throat, and found an excuse to escape this talk temporarily. "Oh.. I just realized I forgot my keyboard in the car. Excuse me a moment..." quickly and quietly, the blonde excused herself and scrambled back out to her aunt's car. Though, in actuality, she was more than taking her time with the task of retrieving her prized possession; her keyboard.​
 
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The boy stopped moving, much to Mason’s relief, though he was still clinging to the outside of his window. Jeez, can I catch him? He looks just as heavy as me. Even as Mason attempted to calculate where the jumper was going to take his leap of faith-in-death, the boy reached into the recesses of the room he’d just climbed out of, and carefully pulled out something. It was a bass case. What is he doing? Feeling a bit uneasy now, Mason called out to the person again. “Hey. You’re really going to regret this.” His face muscles were twitching, and his eyes burned with the effort of remaining a steady watch of the boy hanging out the 2nd​ story window. If he blinked, if he so much as blinked, the ground would be splattered with teenage angst.

The teen settled the bass on the small bit of window ledge that was not occupied by his feet, then paused with a hand still on the case. Before Mason could register what was happening, the jumper had flipped him the finger. Finally, Mason understood the situation; clearly, the person had taken the bass out as a projectile to clear his path of mortality. Should I…catch the bass? Or is he going to jump as soon as he throws it? The jumper slowly shifted his weight against the window ledge, and Mason jerked his head up, with his eyes riveted on the person above him. The boy on the window ledge slowly glanced over his shoulder, probably trying to ensure that he hit his target. And all doubt of the jumper’s malicious intent was erased from Mason’s thoughts as he saw he was being scowled at. Yup. He’s going to throw the bass at me. In the next instant, as the teen began turning his face towards the window pane again, Mason felt a slight feeling of recognition stir in the back of his mind. Oh, it’s…ah…well he looks familiar. The sudden slamming of the window jolted him out of his memory-search. The boy was preparing to jump, it seemed.

First, with a macabre sort fascination, and gradually with an expression of pure, unbridled confuddlment, Mason watched the boy lower his feet onto the first floor ledge, then carefully drop the bass case onto the grassy lawn, before pushing himself to the ground and stumbling into a surprisingly safe landing. A great sense of relief washed through Mason as he slowly released the breath he’d been building deep within the rock of fear that had caught in his chest. Now the tension dissipated and he could feel a small smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. So he isn’t suicidal, after all. Surely, this was all just a misunderstanding. He took a small step forwards to excuse his behavior, but before he could say anything, the teen had already turned around and pinned him with a heated glare. “You think you or anyone else can stop me? You can just forget about it. I’m going.”

Mason’s smile froze on his lips, setting into an unnatural-looking sneer that slowly melted away into his default expression of neutrality. As he maintained the stone wall on his face, his mind worked frantically, trying to muster up a response to the unexpected belligerence his assistance had been greeted with. His voice raised slightly in his rush to explain himself. “But I DID just stop you!” I saved you from killing yourself, right? Mason paused as a sudden realization dawned on him. But it doesn’t mean he can’t try it again...perhaps I should talk to him about it? After scuffing his shoe sheepishly in the grass, Mason looked up and attempted to reason with the other boy. “…I think we need to have a little talk.” Again, he hesitated and considered the possibility that the boy was having familial issues. That’d explain why he didn’t seem to care that his parents would be upset with his death. Unsure of how to broach such a sensitive topic, Mason shifted his feet and tried to calmly assuage the teen’s irrational fears. “Your parents won’t know about this if I don’t tell them…I mean that I definitely won’t tell them. So…” He coughed nervously into his forearm, trying to cover his discomfort. “So I think it’d be best if you at least let me, or someone else, help you with this…problem.” He was about to say ‘depression’, but had caught himself in time.

The buzzing of his cellphone saved him from further embarrassment. As he pulled his phone out of his back, jean pocket, Mason shook his head in exasperation. I’m not the best at stuff like this, but I think it’s going okay. I hope. He opened the new message in his inbox, reading the short text with an increasing sense of ire. Here I am, helping a suicidal person cope with their debilitating insecurities, and she’s asking about why I’m late for band practice? Quickly, Mason sent Katrina an explanation and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

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Then he turned to face said suicidal person again. “Um…I have band practice.” Why would a random, depressed stranger even care about something stupid like that? He heaved a gentle sigh through his nose. Okay, Dr. Phil. It’s time to bail. Taking a few steps back, Mason waved to the other boy as he began walking back to the brown bass case that awaited him. “Bye.”
 
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After the incident of what happened outside, He walked to the door and closed it behind him, He went in his room and grabbed his headphones, He sat at the dinning room and plugged his headphone jack in his phone and cranked up city by Hollywood Undead, At the mid of the song he gets another text by krim saying that he's here with food, He paused his music and went to his text messages to text him back
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After sending the text, He walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, Everyone thinks he has it good, When he is has it the worse, His life full of broken dreams and heartache's, The only thing he has is winning the battle of the bands, then he can leave everything behind accept his friends, He turned the sink on and put a towel over the cold water, He wet his face and hoped that krim wouldn't say anything about his hand, He walked to the door and opened it for Krim "Hey man"
 
Ari reluctantly opened the door to her large Victorian home and immediately slammed shut the door again as late morning sunlight flooded her sensitive eyes. She groaned, resting on her head on the smooth wood and sighing quietly to herself. She had had a feeling that she might have wanted to grab her sunglasses before attempting to leave the house with a hangover induced migraine larger than Texas's ego, but not shockingly at all, Ari ignored her instincts and ended up doing something she regretted almost instantly. After resting for a moment, or several, she pushed herself off of the heavy door and trudged back into her room, flopping back on top of her bed with a thud.

She was well aware of the fact that she'd already missed most of her classes for the day at school, but couldn't summon the energy to care. She had woken up with her alarm earlier, and, feeling like hell, had called in sick, saying that there was only a slight chance that she'd be well enough to make it that day. Because of that, she wasn't worried about being marked truant. Still though, she was new to the school, new to school, and missing days wasn't going to help her make friends, or "fit in." Not that that was likely to happen anyways. Especially since she'd recently joined a band, and she'd broken her phone the night before so she had no way of contacting any of them - no thanks to excessive alcohol consumption and an enraging conversation with her father, which always set her on edge.

The Professor, as Ari liked to call him - not that he would have heard anything else - didn't call her to actually find out how she was doing. As long as her grades stayed up, she was progressing well in lessons, and wasn't getting into trouble, he couldn't care less what she did. Oh no, the head of the music program at one of the best colleges in the country had much better things to do than worry about the well being of his only child, like worry about whether he'd be getting tenure next semester, or that "petty incompetent fool" from the humanities department.

Her well traveled mother was out of town, yet again. One of the requirements for being a world renowned operatic soprano. Ari believed this time her mother was in Brussels giving a lecture at a musical institution, not that she cared. She used to ask her mother all about her travels, and relished in the tiny trinkets and toys that would be brought back for her. But one day she found out it was her mother's assistant that picked out those treasures, and as she got older, she began to see her parents more and more for the self involved narcissists they were, and couldn't bring herself to be interested in them any longer, so long as they left her alone.

Ari dragged herself out of bed and into the kitchen, where she fixed herself a cup of tea, humming softly the lullaby from Anastasia. She sat perched on the edge of the counter, feet dangling gently in the air and the mug steaming in her hands. She sat quietly, sipping at her scalding tea and thinking about her busted phone. It was already 1 o'clock, so the electronic repair shop should be open. She exhaled softly and hopped off the counter. She could use a drink about now.

An hour and a glass -or two- of scotch later, Ari was heading away from her house and into town. The repair shop was open, but since there wasn't a lot of customer traffic in early afternoon only one person was working the shop. Such was her luck, the employee was a total imbecile and what should have taken maybe a half hour took way longer than that. After the first hour of waiting, Ari left, telling him she'd be back to pick it up later.

She drove to an abandoned warehouse right outside the main city, where she sometimes went to seek solitude, and settled into the secret room she found and decorated to her liking. She'd put down a mattress, blankets, pillows, and hung a few posters, as well as stashing portable speakers and a few books and notebooks. This was one of the only places Ari could truly be alone, and she thought the dim space more home than the house she actually lived in. To kill time, she plugged in her iPod, settled on pearl jam, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one and after getting comfortable in her little nest, flipped through one of the manga novels that was lying bookmarked in the stack for a while.

After a time, Ari checked her watch. 3:30. The idiot, incompetent as he may have been, should have been done by then. Back in the car and on the way to the store, she was so absorbed in thought she almost missed the girl walking along the sidewalk up ahead. Ari wasn't one hundred percent sure, but she thought it may have been one of her band members. Besides the band leader Drake and the manager Gauge, she'd had limited interaction with the rest of the band.

When she got closer she pulled up alongside the other girl. Damn, what was her name? She had a feeling it started with a M... Mila, Maya, Mia, Mira.... Mira! That was it. "Hey," she called out the window, slowing to a stop. "Mira... Right? I don't know if you remember me. I'm Ari, the new bass player. Can I, um, can I give you a ride somewhere?" She stopped, suddenly wary. This was the most she'd spoken to the girl, or any of her bandages really, and she didn't want to come off as creepy by asking one of them to get into her car. Especially considering Ari was generally quiet, she didn't want to the other girl to get the wrong idea and thing her more outgoing than she was. Anxiously, she waited for an answer.
 
Krim greeted drake with a warm smile and awkwardly made his way into the house, squeezing past drake not giving him the chance to move out of the way. "hey , whats up? where is everyone?" Krim asked in a tone that showed how indifferent he was concerning the answers. His worriment as to where the rest of his band mates were bothered him little at the moment as he was to "thrilled" to finally be around a distraction that would allow him to forget his more pressing problem, if only for a moment. As he made his way to drakes kitchen sitting everything down the table gently he threw out his arms stiffly and leaned back beginning to stretch waiting on his friend and fearless leader to join him. "oh and you should probably put an extra wrap on that hand, sticks out like a sore thumb...er hand?" he said stopping to mentally look at himself as he uttered the words, he'd give off a small chuckle followed by a childish grin at his own juvenile sense of humor. Krim brought himself forward and placed his hands on his hips turning his head slightly to look behind him at drake retaining his grin adding yet another question to the list, "well? tell me what happened" he said glancing at the poorly bandaged hand that had a light tint of red peaking through the cloth.
 
As Drake opened the door, Krim walked in with pizza and gave him a greeting,"I thought i should give the band a break for the day because of the excitement of the battle of the band, Let me grab that" Drake grabbed the pizza box and set it on his coffee table, He was hoping Krim didn't mind if it was just the two of them, They were technically one of the founders so, Drake grabbed the remote and set it on the table, then all of a sudden Krim asked about his

hand, Making a joke after it, Drake wasn't pleased,"You don't wanna know" His voice deep, and clear, Not like his ordinary voice. He didn't wanna talk about what happened, It was like being powerless,"Can we eat now,Good" He stood up and gave a fake smile, He walked into the small kitchen and grabbed a small bag of popcorn, He put it in his microwave ad turned it on for 4:00 minutes.
 
Mirabelle glanced at the approaching car, tensing immediately. She relaxed, however, when she saw and heard Ari. She slowly nodded, recognizing her immediately. "Oh, hey.. Yeah, I remember you," she replied, offering a friendly smile. Her shoulders sagged with relief at the offer, and she nodded. "Actually, that'd be great, if you don't mind.." she chimed. Though, she suddenly tilted her head, curiously. "..Weren't you home sick today...?" she asked, wondering why the girl was out driving around. Had she gotten everyone's messages about the battle of the bands..?
 
Krim studied Drakes expression, seeing that he really didn't want to discuss the matter so he didn't pry. He sighed gently and gave another warm smile and a slight nod, "No problem" he said as he slowly leaned back against the wall. Krim pondered what might had happened, knowing only a few things able to get drake this upset. if anything it was something he could do nothing about, which at his core, is something drake hated more than anything. He heard drake speak ,"Can we eat now?, good" Krim snapped back into reality and quickly grabbed a pizza box and lifted the lid offering some to drake after of course taking a slice for himself. "So, any idea for the songs we're gonna use for the contest?" he said, trying to lighten the mood in the room and get drakes mind off of what ever had occurred previously.
 
Ari's whole body, while appearing nonchalant and casual as ever in the outside, was coiled like a snake internally in anticipation of rejection. With Mira's words, though, she smiled and relaxed. Ari didn't do particularly well talking to people, and if her offer had been turned down it'd probably take months before she was able to build up the courage to talk to the girl again beyond just 'hello.' "It's no problem at all," she replied honestly. "I'm heading this way anyways."

At the question, Ari nodded and looked down. She hadn't thought anyone would notice, and was hoping to avoid being asked about it. "Um, yeah.... I was." She shrugged and smiled briefly. "It's nothing though, just a 24 hour bug or something. I'm fine now. I hope you don't mind, but I need to make a stop first. I broke my phone yesterday - accidentally," she added quickly, "and it's in the store being fixed now. It should be done, so I've got to go pick it up. It won't take long; I just have to run in and get it and we'll be in our way."
 
Drake smiled over the response, a fake smile, But still a smile. He grabbed the piece of pizza out of Krim's hand "Thanks" After taking a bite of the pizza Krim asked about which song we will use "Hmm, Maybe some rundown band across the border" He then took another bite out of the pizza. He notices that Krim keeps looking at his hand. Drake sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine if you want to know about my hand so badly then i'll tell you."
 
Mira nodded, returning the smile. "Still, though; thank you," she chimed, gladly(while tensely) going to hop into the car with her. "Ah.. Well, I'm glad to hear you're feeling better," she replied, honestly. She knew how much it sucked to be sick. Though, she tilted her head when Ari mentioned breaking her phone. "Oh.. Yeah, that's no problem. Did you not hear about the battle of the bands, than?" she asked, curiously.
 
A breath full of hot air gradually vented from out of Saul's flared nostrils, trying to maintain at least a loose, somewhat haphazard hold on his temper. The kid in front of him had been smiling as smug as ever, perhaps originally believing that Saul wouldn't be able to reach him as easily as he did, or perhaps he had the idea that his threats would be enough, but what he hoped was a sense of doubt had settled on him now that he had climbed down from his perch on the second story with ease. However, just as a complacent look had begun to settle on his own features, they stopped in a somewhat bewildered state at the boy's next statement. How did he already stop me? Has rehearsal already started or something? Saul's rage rekindled abruptly. No, he just thinks he's already won. Maybe he's already told my parents?

Saul ran his tongue between his lips, waiting for the boy to begin explaining himself, just like the villains always do, and just like the heroes were always wont to do, he began contemplating the best coarse of action to properly deal with this threat. A cold edge splintered his gaze as the opposing band member suggested they talk. Negotiations. Whatever he's hoping to gain, I'm not giving it to him. I won't do it. Never before had he felt such a sense of camaraderie with the rest of his band, but something about being used as the target to bring down the whole band in the competition made him feel the need to take them down... or at least this guy. His hand clenched into a fist, wanting desperately to swing it in his face. Not yet.

Again, there was the faintest bit of confusion as the other boy continued, contradicting his theory of his parents already having been told. Unless... yes, he's definitely trying to pull some sort of one-man good cop bad cop routine. Trying to sugar it up by insisting that he won't tell them, presenting himself as someone who will 'help' me, but I know the truth. His short fingernails dug into his palm. He really thinks that I don't have a choice in the matter, the arrogant bastard!

Just as it seemed that one more wrong comment would ultimately set him off, something drew the other boy's attention. He pulled out his phone, acting so cool about it like he didn't have anything to worry about coming from Saul. He felt his own phone vibrate, but he was too busy glaring down at the other boy's scalp. But what should I do about this? What can I do about this? Tell my parents not to listen to him, instead listen to what their own family had to say? I've already put too much faith in Abby. He scanned his eyes over the other boy's body. Could I take him? Maybe. Even if I lose, I might be able to hurt him, but anything that would accomplish would only be temporary, wouldn't it? He looked to his default method of handling this sort of situation, which he had been deliberately avoiding for the urgency of the situation. I don't know anything about this guy anyway, so what sort of threat could I possibly use? Dirt. I need dirt on him, but how would I go about doing that? Again, how did he ever get so much dirt on me?

As Saul was brewing over what seemed to be an alarmingly barren selection of options, he almost missed what the other boy said. Band practice? He's going to go reconnaissance with his group, maybe get info on a better way to take us down. "Yeah, I do too." But you already knew that, didn't you, you pretentious little- Saul's eyes widened in furious disbelief as the other boy simply turned away, replicating a perfect portrayal of nonchalance. You think I'll let you try to intimidate me and just leave? his mind screamed. Without another moment of hesitation, Saul charged the other boy, throwing his arms out to drag him to the ground before he could reach the sidewalk and grunting through clenched teeth, "You aren't getting away with this!"
 
[BCOLOR=#000000]Krim blinked and began to protest as drake snatched his slice of pizza right out of his hands. He pouted and glared at drake playfully "you asshole" he muttered almost completely sounding like an 8 year old while he spoke, eying his original slice while timidly reaching in the box for another. His eyebrows raised as he heard drake sigh. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Fine if you want to know about my hand so badly then I'll tell you."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Krim blinked as drake went on, he bit his lip in shame as he understood that drake must have caught him staring. he shook his head in disagreement stating that drake had no obligation to explain anything to him he didn't want to "if you didn't want to talk about it, its fine...really, its ok" he said calmly, his eyes fixated on the floor hiding his curiosity. [/BCOLOR]
 
As he walked away from the other boy, Mason finally noticed the faint sound of children’s laughter rippling through the air. Oh, school must have let out for the middle schoolers. He picked up his pace a bit, not wanting any of the kids to come across his instrument and decide to use it as a makeshift sword or pony. As his sneakers trudged across the lawn, Mason smiled at the gentle rustling of the light green grass stalks, greeting him as he continued to step all over their brethren. This is quite the accommodating lawn. From just behind him, Mason heard a furious voice shout-“You aren’t getting away with this!” before the grass rushed up to meet him.

It wasn’t until he finally registered the fact that he was on the ground that Mason felt the full force of his assailant’s tackle on his back. …What the hell? He shook his head, trying to clear away the bright, dizzying lights that clouded his vision as he twisted around and finally focused on his attacker. It was the suicidal guy. Don’t tell me he's pissed that I tried to help him? Of all the stupid people… Mason could feel his blood boiling with frustration, throbbing in his temples and deafening him to all surrounding sounds. His hands clenched around fistfuls of grass as he lost his self-control. “GET OFF OF ME, you psychotic piece of shit! Then he whipped his hand up and flung a shower of grass in the other boy’s face, before attempting to shove him away.
 
More or less lying on top of him now, Saul attempted to set his knees in a stable position to pin the other boy down, the impact of his own assault only having shaken him briefly. He found purchase on the back of his legs, but before he could disentangle his arms from around the other boy's torso and sit up, the other boy had twisted beneath him, causing him to slip off to the side a little bit more. Saul grit his teeth, settling for having one leg off to the side and the other uncomfortably between the groove of the other boy's own two.

Had he been thinking a little more rationally at the moment, he may have considered that the kid's name calling could be perfectly justified for being assaulted as he were, but Saul's rage was trained more on the other boy's lowly attempt to coerce him, and the comment just fueled him all the more. Saul's own fist clenched around the grass as a hail of turf flew into his face. He sputtered a little at the strands that had stuck to his mouth before feeling a force press against his chest. Saul landed on his side, just barely managing to keep one leg draped over the other boy's own. He grunted in frustration, and in the next moment he had pressed his leg into the rich soil and made to flip back over and press back against the boy, using his free hand that wasn't stuck under his body to strike anywhere on the boy's frame with a fist.
 
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