Post by Desperado on Dec 6, 2006 15:57:39 GMT -4
((Must have break from studying. Also, Author's Note: This takes place in the Pyromane Dimension.))
The moral of today's story, kiddies: beware of hobos.
Des had been wrapped up all nice and cozy in his duster, sitting against a wall in an alleyway in beautiful downtown Burbank, CA, when a random crazy screaming woman rand down into his alley only to discover that it was a dead end. The two men running after her, leering faces hidden by shadows and ski masks, stopped about seven feet away from her, which was about five feet from Des.
"Where you runnin', chica?" one of the goons said. Someone needed to do something about the immigration in this town.
"P-please, don't-" the woman pleaded, semi-collapsing to the ground in fear. One of the two grabbed a pistol out from his jacket and pointed it at the girl. That was Jacob's cue to stand up and step in front of her, just as the punk fired. The bullet hit the Desperado square in the chest.
And then it fell to the ground.
Meanwhile, the bullet's energy coursed through his muscles, flooding them with vigor, sending an almost drug-like high through him. It felt good. Too good, sometimes. But after a week of not feeling it, right now it just felt good.
The punks were just kinda standing there. After all, it wasn't everyday that a man encountered a Hobo of Steel.
"Normally I'd just tell ya ta get outta my alley. But tonight, I really feel like kickin' your ass." And the Desperado smiled.
With surprising quickness, Des lunged forward and smacked the guy's gun-arm, hard. The bone broke and the gun dropped, leaving the guy open for a huge right hand to come up and grab his face, pushing him into the brick wall three feet to his left quite forcefully, his head smacking against the brick and his body falling unconscious. The other one was still standing there, obviously a drop-out of the School of Common Sense. Des just stared at him for a bit, then faked moving forward a bit, as if to attack him next. That jolted the guy enough to cause him to turn around and run away. Unfortunately, turning around for him lead him to run into the opposite wall of the alley, where he knocked himself unconscious.
"I can't believe that worked," he said to himself, still on his energy high from the gunshot, though it would fade in about a minute.
He then turned to the woman, who didn't know whether to regard him as saint or Satan.
"They're down, you can go now."
She slowly got up and walked forward, eyeing the two men on the ground. She then opened up her purse and handed Jacob a twenty, saying, "Here, it's the least I can do, thank you so much!" And she ran off.
Now Jacob was left in an alleyway with two guys and a twenty dollar bill in hand.
Now if only there was a store that would let him through the door. Damn!
The moral of today's story, kiddies: beware of hobos.
Des had been wrapped up all nice and cozy in his duster, sitting against a wall in an alleyway in beautiful downtown Burbank, CA, when a random crazy screaming woman rand down into his alley only to discover that it was a dead end. The two men running after her, leering faces hidden by shadows and ski masks, stopped about seven feet away from her, which was about five feet from Des.
"Where you runnin', chica?" one of the goons said. Someone needed to do something about the immigration in this town.
"P-please, don't-" the woman pleaded, semi-collapsing to the ground in fear. One of the two grabbed a pistol out from his jacket and pointed it at the girl. That was Jacob's cue to stand up and step in front of her, just as the punk fired. The bullet hit the Desperado square in the chest.
And then it fell to the ground.
Meanwhile, the bullet's energy coursed through his muscles, flooding them with vigor, sending an almost drug-like high through him. It felt good. Too good, sometimes. But after a week of not feeling it, right now it just felt good.
The punks were just kinda standing there. After all, it wasn't everyday that a man encountered a Hobo of Steel.
"Normally I'd just tell ya ta get outta my alley. But tonight, I really feel like kickin' your ass." And the Desperado smiled.
With surprising quickness, Des lunged forward and smacked the guy's gun-arm, hard. The bone broke and the gun dropped, leaving the guy open for a huge right hand to come up and grab his face, pushing him into the brick wall three feet to his left quite forcefully, his head smacking against the brick and his body falling unconscious. The other one was still standing there, obviously a drop-out of the School of Common Sense. Des just stared at him for a bit, then faked moving forward a bit, as if to attack him next. That jolted the guy enough to cause him to turn around and run away. Unfortunately, turning around for him lead him to run into the opposite wall of the alley, where he knocked himself unconscious.
"I can't believe that worked," he said to himself, still on his energy high from the gunshot, though it would fade in about a minute.
He then turned to the woman, who didn't know whether to regard him as saint or Satan.
"They're down, you can go now."
She slowly got up and walked forward, eyeing the two men on the ground. She then opened up her purse and handed Jacob a twenty, saying, "Here, it's the least I can do, thank you so much!" And she ran off.
Now Jacob was left in an alleyway with two guys and a twenty dollar bill in hand.
Now if only there was a store that would let him through the door. Damn!