Brandon In Naurto

Ch.1-Masked Man

Brandon awoke with a start. His body was sweating with shock.

Brandon sat up, shaking for some weird reason. He didn't know why.

His eyes darted towards his clock. The clock read 7:45

Shit! He had to be out of the house immediately in order to deliver the package in time!

Brandon ran around his room, gathering his things, and freaking out like a baby. He eventually ran right out of his room, into his father, who had the smell of booze off him. Brandon froze.

"Wh-where in the hell are you going, you little turd?" His dad said, stumbling.

"Got some business to do." Brandon said, fear in his speech.

His dad struck Brandon in the face. "Oh? Is that so? No you don't. You've got business with me. Get over here." He had an evil look in his face.

Brandon knew if he had to fight, it had to be now. Brandon's nerdy appearance deceived people, he was actually a skilled fighter in melee combat. And Brandon couldn't physically hurt his father, but he had to use force to flee.

Brandon waited for his father to swing his fist. He blocked the punch, and threw his fist back. Brandon leaped foreword and rolled to the top of the stairwell, then dashed down the stairs.

"No you don't!" His dad yelled. His dad leaped from a huge distance and tackled Brandon to the ground.

Fear struck Brandon like a gunshot. Brandon's package! Brandon rolled to his back, hearing crunches. Brandon had to punch him, or else his package would be completely destroyed. Brandon mustered all his courage in a split second, then swung his fists at his dad. The force sent his dad reeling backward, knocking him off Brandon, and sending him to the ground. Brandon hurried out the door, a pair of sneakers right by the door. He put them on and ran out of the house. His dad attempted to catch up to Brandon, but he couldn't. Brandon ran and ran, and didn't stop. Brandon's dad yelled with fury.

"You little shit! I'll kill you!" He yelled.

Brandon could barely hear him. He was running so fast the wind sounded like it was yelling into his ears.

Brandon ran until he came to the house he had to give the package to. Brandon took out the package. It was bent a bit, but otherwise fine. Brandon knocked on the door. A grey haired man came to the door. His hair was long, and he looked muscular a bit.

"Package for a Mr. Micklason." Brandon said, breathing heavy.

The man took the package, and studied Brandon curiously. "You look like you've been through a war! Must've tripped, did'ja?"

Brandon sighed, however he didn't argue. "Yes, that's it exactly." He said silently.

The man smiled. "Wow, I must be good! Haha! Anyways, thank you, kid! Do I gotta sign something?"

Brandon took out the clipboard, and handed it to the man. He wrote down some information on the paper.

"Here you go! Have a good night!" The man said, grinning.

Brandon took the clipboard, then turned and walked off, rolling his eyes.

"Your life isn't perfect, is it, boy?" The man said.

Brandon spun around. "What do you mean, dude?"

The man sighed. "Those arn't scrapes from an pavement I know. I wasn't born yesterday. Those are war scars, kid."

Brandon hesitated.

"Let me tell you, kid. I promise you, your luck will change soon. Angels never have the right to suffer." The man said.