Beast had to admit, this City was becoming quite the headline. He'd moved here to settle down, to find something other than bruising faces and bodies for a living - and he certainly found it. Five murders strung out a part of his stress, but the undying optimism refused to allow himself to doubt his own capabilities. He was a fighter, a trainer, and probably the most well equipped to handle someone if the time ever boiled down to it. He questioned his ability to take another human being's life, but quickly chalked it up to "Live or Die". His usual routine remained unwavered, despite the headlines and the turmoil shattering the sense of Security in this area code. Cold shower, protein shake, stretches, and a five mile run to start the morning, his usual playlist consisting of a healthy mix of Sinatra and Spacey as they blasted him into the decade he wished he lived in. Bluetooth earphones tucked into his ears, he kept the hood to his sweatshirt up - the zipper only done up about halfway to allow his heating body to breathe the crisp air. He was counting the breaks in the pavement as he jogged, restarting after ten instead of continuing into a infinite loop of number's he'd forget the moment he stopped jogging. His legs shielded with some brand name under armour that simply wicked the sweat from building in his nether region, and legs. Basketball shorts shielding the deviant gaze of those he seemed to meet, a pair of matching tennis shoes giving him some 'extra' spring in his step as he focused his breathing to accommodate the burn in his chest.
Some paces later he pulled his head from the sidewalk and eyed the seating area he was approaching, opting to pause and stretch out the building burn in his legs he eased his stroll to a brisk walk before pulling the zipper to his jacket up further and simply propping his leg on a bench and leaning into the pain as it stretched itself away, dissipating like any leads the CCPD could possibly come up with. It only took a few seconds before he did a quick observation of whom and what was around him, for no real reference - but to ensure he wasn't getting attacked from behind. Spotting Channing and Cole just a few meager feet from him made him cringe internally. He felt like it was bad luck, being near them. The soul sucking aura of their depraved situations making his mind race to allow some sort of real reconciliation or condolence that Channing hadn't heard made him give up on the notion as quick as it arrived.
I should say something, right?
What could you possibly offer, dickhead?
I could offer some free boxing classes- maybe mix some good defense in there?
Right, because this grieving individual is going to go to the gym, fuck off - she's got a funeral to plan you Goon.Inner turmoil tearing him apart, he plastered his handsome features with the most charming and rehearsed smile he could manage before he slowly approached and removed his hood, pulling the earbuds out and letting them rest on his shoulders he offered a coy, sly, smile.
"Uh, hello. This may be the least appropriate time for this - and I apologize, but my condolences. I've lost my loved ones, and the pain is going to seem unbearable, and I won't lie and say that it gets easier - because frankly it doesn't. We just learn to live with how we're feeling, but that's besides the point. I'm a Personal Trainer and I'd like to offer some Self Defense courses to you, free of charge. We can't beat whoever is doing this if we live our lives in the dark.. That gives her, or him, the control and intimidation they don't need."
Fumbling slightly, he dug his wallet out of his shorts and simply produced a business card. Setting it beside her on the table, he offered another smile, this one much more sad that they shared something in common (dead loved ones), but devoid of pity. He'd meant what he said, and was hoping that something would offer some sort of rally to not allow this Murderer to win. Dropping his gaze, to prevent himself from seeing either and any of her reactions, he noticed his shoe untied then. Kneeling, he quickly tied the laces tightly to his foot before he switched and retied the other to match the grip of its counterpart. Straightening he spoke again, stating fact more than comfort, "I'll be at the Gym on 5th and Washington from One to Eight, if I'm not there- Just shoot me a text or a call and I'll be there ASAP."
YOU ARE READING
SPLATTER (draft)
Mystery / ThrillerIt's been on National TV. The obsession of the local newspaper. Fear in every resident's heart that compels them to lock their doors at night and to keep the dog loose. To never stay out past eight, or dark. The first body they found was of a you...