Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Opal, Feb 1, 2016.

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  1. The Highlands was intended to be a respectable neighbourhood, an extension of the nearby Callingwood, which was a beautiful area in the center of the city that many wealthy and prestigious families called home. It was the late 1990s when its construction was approved, when the economy was booming, and many citizens were looking to invest in expensive properties. They had the whole world in their hands, and their future prospects looked grand.

    However, the economy was not stable. The Highlands had not even finished construction when it began to collapse, and those who had pre-purchased homes could suddenly no longer afford them. Families that already lived in the area found themselves soon unable to continue the upkeep of the homes; some were not able to scrounge up enough money to move into another. Construction was halted, and it did not take long after that for the neighbourhood to spiral into poverty.

    It had become an area infested with crime, a picturesque slum home to the city's most contemptible degenerates. Addicts huddled in corners, some hardly showing any signs of life at all; their dealers were never far away, being masters of manipulation and expert businessmen. Prostitutes stood at the corners, dolled up in makeup meant to mask their misery, and dressed in lewd clothing designed to distract from their dead eyes. Petty thugs raged wars over territory, and police tape marked the scenes of murders that had yet to be solved, and yet to be rectified.

    The inhabitants of the Highlands were not all criminals, however. It was also home to homeless youth, cast out of their family homes for a great host of reasons, all abominable. The mentally ill lurked there, having been turned out by hospitals who could no longer afford their care. There were also young men and women like Adrien Lachance, who had simply lost their way and had no where else to turn.

    He was only 19, not even old enough to purchase alcohol legally. Though he was old beyond his years, he had little formal education under his belt, and was still naive to much of what the world had to offer. He had always been a troubled boy, having fallen in with a questionable group of people in high school, but after his mother's death, his life had become the header of a crime drama. It was a daily battle to survive, and he had learned very quickly how to defend his body with his fists, and his mind with a crown of thorns.


    All of this for a package of fucking cigarettes.

    Adrien didn't even smoke. It agitated his eyes and throat, and the stench clung to his clothes for weeks. No, he had different vices, as everyone lurking on the streets did; he just happened to know quite a few people who did smoke, and who would gladly trade him what he wanted in exchange for the little death sticks. Though he had originally convinced himself that a hit of speed would be worth any potential bruises, he hadn't expected the man he stole them from to be so quick on his feet and so heavy with his hands.

    It wasn't a fair fight, either, though Adrien certainly couldn't blame the guy for calling over his friends to have a go at him. Cigarettes were valuable, and he clearly was not someone who should be partaking in fights to begin with. There were very few people he could handle on his own; only the frailest drug addicts, of which he could even be considered a fine example. He was as thin as a rail, and often just as stiff. He had been in plenty of fights where he had emerged the victor, but that was well before he had become so ravaged by drugs and his own mutinous mind that he could barely lift a dead weight without risking serious injury.

    It had only started as one man, and it wasn't as though the brute was in any danger of being mauled. Adrien managed to get in a few hits, and even drew blood from the man's nose, but by that time he had already been virtually incapacitated. It would have been easy enough to pin him down without the help of two other freakishly burly men, but he supposed it wasn't nearly as fun when you didn't have someone holding up your target like a punching bag. There was nothing he could do except stand there and pray for mercy, but he knew mercy would not come. It never did.

    Adrien was quite sure they were going to beat him to death at this point, and if he had even a shred of hope left in his body, he might have started to cry. However, the cruel voice in the back of his mind reminded him that no one would mourn his life, and if these men didn't kill him, something else would - and soon. It wasn't the first time he'd prayed for death. It wasn't even the first time he had prayed for death this week. Even if he did somehow survive this, he was out both the cigarettes and his speed, and he had been caught in front of the outlandish mansion that everyone in the immediate area avoided. He had thought running here would be a smart idea - surely no one would follow him here - but clearly he lacked any reasonable foresight, because now there would be no one able - or willing - to assist him.

    Respectable members of society did not help addicts, and scorned the destitute. There was no one among his community that he would consider a friend, and surely none so fond of him that they would risk their hide to help him. Hell, if he stumbled upon a similar situation, there's no way he would have helped, even if the person was on their own, much the less being actively assaulted.

    Eventually his assailants slowed down, only after he was bleeding from places he didn't even know he could bleed from. For a split second, Adrien even thought perhaps they'd leave him, considering this beating just a warning to stay away from them. Perhaps lady luck was finally smiling on him. Besides the chorus of heaving breaths, the only sound he could hear for a while was that of rain pounding on the side walk. He opened one of his eyes carefully, looking at the brutish face of the man who was currently taking his turn pummelling him. Instead of the mercy he was hoping for, however, all he saw was the faint glimmer of rage in the man's eyes, and lips curling up into a smirk.

    "Good night," the man snarled, before punching Adrien square in the nose with full force.

  2. Andrew had been through a lot during his life, to say it simple. He had never imagined ending up were he was, hell, how could anyone imagine that? Not that he complained. His small mansion made living quiet comfortable, and he had a job that payed him enough to keep the staff he needed to make it even more comfortable. A job that he had not in his wildest dreams ever thought he would be doing.

    When his life got turned upside down (which felt like an understatement to say), he had wanted nothing more than to die. He hated what he had become, with it's cravings and all that came with it. Unfortunately it wasn’t that easy to die with the healing abilities he had gotten along with the painful experiment.

    After a dark year, he finally managed to turn his hatred into something more productive. Who knew hate could be so profitable. He had started with getting the money he needed (no, not legally at all) to buy this place, away from the busy city life and far away from anyone he had ever known. He had lost contact with all of them the second the accident had happened. Not so strange, considering everyone thought he had died in it.

    But no, he was very much alive, and thriving. Not that he was much of a happy guy, but he took pleasure in what he was doing as a profession. Ridding the world of horrible people seemed like the perfect way to spend his life, he thought. And when he wasn’t working, his life was surprisingly calm and pleasant. Or, it usually was. Today not so much.

    The guys outside the front of his home was being loud enough to get his attention, making him move to the window to see what all the ruckus was about. He sighed when he saw the pitiful fight that was going on. “That hardly seems fear,” he mumbled to himself. Three agains one? Did they have nothing better to do?

    Normally he wouldn’t have cared much. People got beat up all the time, it wasn’t any of his business. Until it was happening on his property, than it was very much his business. They seemed set to kill the kid, and how rude was it to leave a dead body on someone else’s stairs? He would never have done something like that. No, he couldn’t let this continue, that was for sure.

    Dressed in fine, grey pants and a dark green sweater, he stepped out of his front door and walked towards the small group. He left the door open so not to make a sound and alert them of his approach. Seeing how focused they were at their prey and his skills in moving almost completely without sound, it wasn’t strange that he managed to reach them unnoticed. It wasn’t until he stepped up behind the guy doing the punching, that one of the men holding the kid notice him. Marcus's expression was as neutral as always, but his blue eyed stare made it very clear what he thought of the situation.

    The man's eyes widened in surprise, but it was too late to warn the others now. “How…” Marcus started and grabbed the punching guy from behind. “…dare you…” he continued and jerked him backwards, throwing the man to the ground. “…come…” His right fist landed a punch in the middle of the face to the man holding the kids right arm, who instantly let go to touch is now broken nose with both hands. “…to my home…” The man holding the other arm got a kick to the knee, making him scream out in pain and double over. “…and disturb my peaceful afternoon.”

    The whole event had taken only a couple seconds, and the kid was now forgotten. A new target had taken the focus to the three guys, and they were now a lot angrier than they had been when beating up the kid. Marcus smiling didn’t improve their mood the least. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and looked around at them, waiting for someone to make their first move. All three decided to come at him at once, but he stayed as calm as if he was watching the sun set.

    Some of the punches he ducked, other he let make contact without flinching. For every punch they got inn, he delivered three back. His hands moved fast and skillfully, targeting the different sensitive spots on a human body. And even though he wasn’t even using half in strength he got, they definitely felt it. Within a minute they were all fleeing, two of them unable to move properly.

    “Humans...” Marcus scoffed while looking after them. Then he moved his attention to the kid, kneeling beside him. “Still awake?” he asked and gently clapped his chin. He was still alive it seemed, so that gave him another thing to take care of. Disposing of a body would actually have been easier than what he had to do now.

    He couldn’t leave a man half dead in from of his door, risking an ambulance and the police to show up. The last thing he wanted was people snooping around his property and risk seeing something they shouldn’t, and it would be bad for his business. Nothing scared clients away like a police car parked in your drive way.

    “Guess you’re coming with me, kid,” he sighed and picked him up in his arms as if he weighed nothing, and headed back inside the house. There was another reason for him doing it though, but he would hardly admit it to even himself. He felt sorry for the kid.
  3. ((Sorry for the wait!))

    Though the punch sent him reeling, and quite possibly broke his nose for the second time in his miserable life, Adrien managed not to succumb to darkness from the hit. For once, his stubbornness was paying off. He was seeing stars, and his ears were ringing, but he was still alive and conscious. Unfortunately, he had the sinking feeling that this was not going to be the case for much longer, and he steeled himself for another round. Much to his awe, another round never came.

    Confused, he opened one eye to take a look, but was unable to make out more than a few blurry shapes. One thing was for sure - his assailants were no longer focusing him, and instead seemed to be entirely focused on one other person. Adrien wanted to shout at them to get away, and that they were surely an idiot for trying to fight one on three, but fell silent when, one by one, the attackers fell. The sight made him dizzy, and forced him to shut his eyes again. Was he hallucinating? Was this a symptom of death?

    He was sure he blacked out for a little while. Frankly, he didn't expect to wake up again, and when he did, was instantly startled and uncomfortably nauseated. He was able to realize that he wasn't on the ground anymore, and was being carried by some mysterious person. Though his vision was still blurry, he squinted up at the stranger, trying to make out features.

    "Comin' where?" He managed to croak, though he slurred his words to the point that it almost sounded like gibberish. "You an angel?" He could only assume so. Though on his best of days he scoffed at the idea of an afterlife, he didn't know what else this person could be if they took out three bruisers like they were mosquitoes. He was out of it, and more than likely concussed, but he was quite certain he didn't see anyone else there. One minute he was almost minced meat, the next he was here, being carted away from the wreckage.

    Adrien wasn't sure how, but he was pretty sure he just survived a miracle.
  4. Andrew closed the door after him with his foot and glanced down at the boy. “Sure, kid. I’m an angel.” Probably the biggest lie he had ever told.

    He carried him up to the stairs to the second floor and walked down the hall. “Louie!” he yelled, his strong voice carrying all through the house. They entered one of the spare bedrooms and he gently placed the boy down on the bed, just as Louie entered. “Yes, boss?”

    “I need warm water, washcloths, and we have a first aid kit, right?” Andrew brushed some hair carefully away from the boys face, and when he didn’t get any response, he looked towards Louie. He was a skinny and tall kid, just turned twenty, with light drown hair and grey eyes. A pretty ordinary looking guy, who was currently looking very confused at the boy on the bed. “Hey!” Andrew snapped, and Louie was quickly paying attention again.

    “A first aid kit?” Louie asked.
    “Yes,” Andrew replied.
    “The boy is injured.”
    Louie only frowned, and looked even more confused.
    “Now!” Andrew said, with a slight growl in his voice.

    Louie quickly walked out of the room, and Andrew returned his attention to the kid. “Hey, you awake?” he asked and stroke his cheek before he grabbed his shirt and tore it open with ease. Since they had used him as a punching bag, Andrew wanted to check him for injuries. If anything looked too bad, he would have to take him to the emergency room. He didn’t have the power to heal broken bones.

    (I'm slow too, sorry!)
  5. Adrien didn't have the capacity in his current state to really focus on what was going on. He heard voices, and even tried to open his eyes to find the source, but didn't see much more than blurry outlines of shapes. The lights also burned his eyes, which made it incredibly difficult to keep them open. He definitely had a concussion, but he had a sick feeling that it wasn't the worst of his problems. He'd had a few concussions before, but never coupled with so many other ailments. It felt like his head was going to explode. There was no way he was dead yet, if he was still feeling this much pain, though right now he didn't view that as a good thing. Death would be welcome.

    Temporary relief came when he was set down onto something soft and comfortable, until his entire body started to ache again. He heard something about a first aid kit through the ringing in his ears, which was somewhat of a comforting development. Those were the only words he heard, until the voice speaking to him was right next to his face.

    "Maybe," Adrien answered sluggishly, having little reaction to his shirt being torn open. If he was anywhere in control of his senses, he might of complained about the fact that this was his nicest shirt, but right now he was just relieved to be somewhere warm and soft. This man could have stripped him naked, and he wouldn't care. The touches to his skin did bother him, however; they weren't aggressive or painful, but his nerves were still on fire, and his instincts were on high alert. He tried to sit up, making little progress as he winced and cursed in French.

    "Yeah, I'm awake all right," Adrien added, sounding at least a little more alert. He felt woozy as he lifted his head, and opted to slouch over instead. Somehow the sensation of blood pooling into the bruises on his nose was more welcome. "Where am I?"
  6. “You stay still now,” Andrew said and placed a hand on the kids shoulder to keep him still. There was no way that skinny thing would be able to fight him off, at least not in his state. “You’re in my house, so just relax. It’s safe here.” If anyone was stupid enough to force their way into this house, they would regret it very soon. But he doubted anyone wanted to beet this kid up that bad. He didn't seem that special.

    Louie came back with the things that were requested, and Andrew wrung up one of the washcloths in the steaming water.
    “What now?” Louie asked as Andrew started cleaning up the kids face.
    “Just do what we’ve talked about when we get visitors,” Andrew answered and carefully wiped the blood of the kids chin. “And get some ice.”
    “Ice? We don’t have ice.”
    Andrew sighed and looked over at him. “Then go buy some,” he said, clearly tired of having to spell everything out for him.
    Louie just nodded and left the room again.

    “What’s your name, kid?” Andrew asked and dropped the washcloth back in the water. He then picked up the med kit and started looking through it. “I’m guessing you want something for the pain.” He found some aspirin and put the kit back down. After a quick walk to the kitchen, he came back with a glass of cold water. “Think you’ll manage to swallow them?” He didn’t want to start pouring water and pills into his mouth only to have him drown in it.
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