Half a Man

One

Your average town of Hemet. You can't go anywhere without hearing a siren of some sort. Shootings on Devonshire and rape on Oakland. Not everyone is bad...But not everyone's good, either. For some, it's your hometown. For others, it's a nightmare.

The town isn't terribly awful. It's got some good features. At least it isn't San Bernardino.

Ba-dum tssh.

It was what the Lee family called home. They had only one child: Marc. He was seventeen, now old enough to drive. Four years and he could drink.

He was in High School, about ready for College. He was set on being a policeman, always wanting to help the community.

He wasn't necessarily the nicest guy but he had a few years to make those minor tweaks before joining the police force.

His hair was a sleak black, spiked up with a glomp of gel. He wore bold glasses (secretly wanting contacts). He was dark skinned--just like his father--and had his mother's brown eyes. A gruff was forming on his chin and he was taller than most kids, all thanks to puberty.

Marc strided down the street. His shoulders were hitched, his head low. He had been jumped on these streets before. He was accidentally mistaken for being in a gang whilst wearing a red jacket and matching bandana. A different gang then proceeded to literally kick him while he was down and he'd stayed away from wearing red ever since.

He kept a pocket knife ever since the incident and always had his guard up. This, unfortunately, gave him a crazed look. A man in a black jacket with a odd bulge in his pocket with quick glances and cautious movements walks down the sidewalk straight towards you. Personally, I'd think he was a druggie.

He was walking down one of the more busier streets--Florida--just idly window shopping. His parents' anniversary was coming around the corner and he needed something for them.

He sighed, finding nothing of interest. He turned on his heel, starting to head back home.

"Most of this junk is either too pricey or just tacky," he grumbled.

His price range was twenty dollars. His allowance a mere five bucks a week. Marc was starting to feel as if saving up for a present was useless. When it came to budgets, it never worked out for him.

SPLOOSH!!

He was drenched in a green, pasty goo, coming out of no where! It smelt--strangely--of mints.

"Yuck!" he growled, wiping his glasses, "Who thought this was funny?!"

As if it weren't weird enough, he felt a stinging sensation on his skin. It was seeping into him! He gasped, attempting to brush it off himself. Once it reached the sidewalk, it would find it's way back to him as if he were a magnet.

He yelped, helplessly slapping it off. Soon, it imbedded itself into his clothes and himself like water on dirt. He began to feel woozy, his head spinning. He fell, blanking out before he hit the ground.

Javier hummed Counting Stars, grasping the straps of his bag as he walked.
"...loosin sleep. Dreamin 'bout the things we could--" he sung softly.

He halted when he heard a foreign voice. A very small voice. But, there was no one on the street. He tuned in, looking for the source.

"Just had to walk into that one!" it said a few curses to put sailors to shame, "Why me..."

He gazed at a bush, seeing a couple leaves stir. He paused, wondering.

Squirrel? Squirrels don't talk... Chipmunk? Oh, wait...

He stepped over to it, the voice stopping in its bickering. His heart thumped in his chest. It reminded him of Christmas Eve, curiosity and suspense taking you down. He knelt in front of the bush, now chest height with it.

Hesitantly, he pulled aside a few thin branches. Light from the sun poured into the bush. His eyes scanned the ground, hoping it wasn't something totally wacky.

His hopes failed him.

A three inch figure cowered at Javier's sheer size, his eyes wide. Sleek black hair and bold glasses. He looked like a kicked puppy; Scared, worried, his eyes asking why.

Javier's motherly side kicked into high gear, reaching down for the poor guy.

"Hey there," he said softly, "I'm not gonna hurt you. It's okay."

What he got in response was a few skittish steps back and a frightened look.

"Don't be afraid," Javier cooed, "Just relax and everything will be fine."

He didn't realize the perspectives. He wondered why this kid was so darn scared. He was a general nice guy. He forgot that--to a person that size--his fingers by themselves loomed over him. Grabbing, big, powerful hands.

He swiped for him but he had hopped to the side. He reached but was easily dodged. Javier gritted his teeth at this guy's stubbornness.

"Stay still," he commanded.

This fell on deaf ears. Eventually, he'd managed to corner him by a web. The boy was smart enough not to jump back and get caught in it. Using one hand to block his path, he maneuvered the other behind his back. His fingers nudged at the back of his knees, enough force to make him fall. His hand was there to catch him.

He lifted him to his face, eying the person in his hand. He could feel the spot of warmth, the ounce of weight, his racing heartbeat. He was real.

"Don't worry," Javi said softly, "You're safe with me."

Pushing open the lip of his breast pocket, he dropped the boy in. Just to be on the safe side, he flipped the flap down and buttoned it. He wasn't sure if this guy was dumb enough to jump out and freefall to his doom.

Rising to his feet, he brushed the dirt off his pants. Before starting on his merry way, he gave the lump in his pocket a supportive pat. He hurried home, more curious then he'd ever been.

Unbeknownst to him, his jogging was knocking the poor fellow around like a rag doll. That pat had even shoved him against Javier's chest.

"Great," he gritted, slammed again against his chest with another step of his captor, "This is just perfect."

None had come to realize the elderly woman, spying on them. Her gnarled finger pointed at Javi's pocket, a stream of a red paste heading straight for it. It was invisible to all but her. She was satisfied, having marked her victim. Her wrinkled lips pulled into a smile as she stepped back into the shade of a tree.

He was hers for the taking.

***
A/N: Hey, guys! Welcome to Half a Man! Cliffhanger, ooh!

I just want to say, big shoutout to Javier_owo who is--of course--Javier in this story. We're close friends and I decided to write a story with him and his favorite character of mine--Marc.

Now, I know you're all wondering "Geez, Lumps, why you be hatin on Hemet?" Yeah, well, I live there and it's my viewing of the place.

Marc is going to be my punching bag for this story so expect a few major blows to himself, his pride, and his dignity. Huehuehue... >:)

Fun fact, I enjoy window shopping on the same street where Marc was also window shopping--Florida. Especially the antique stores. Zomg, there's so much golden crap there and I want it all.

Anyways, new chapter shouldn't take too long. I finished this in two days so the next should be in by Wednesday-ish.

Love you, stay Lumpy!