Chapter 1: Taunt of Life
Light would shine forth on a bleak, descending gray background that is a city in the horizon; it’s vertical, jaw dropping number of spire piercing skyscrapers dotting the city’s entire span of width like the declaration of war from pikes. The sun, not one, but 2 glorious, illuminating suns, would shine forth onto the city, bathing it in an ethereal landscape of bleak and bright, of color and plain.
A lone boy would be running at a accelerated rate, no younger than 17, as a pack of whooping, wild teenagers would chase, madness shown in their strides, as they quicken to pounce, like a superior animal in chase. The boy would back up against a brick wall, sweat pouring like waterworks from his tanned, toned skin as he would shake his neck length, abyssal black hair that completely surrounds his face. One of the chasing teenagers, a 17 year old standing precisely at 6’3, would approach him with a madman’s glint of glee, as if the running was just an appetizer to appease his interest in death. He would be sketched out with numerous, curving scars running the side of his visible torso, where a fight seemed to have broke out as his nose is twisted to the left in a horrible, bent fashion, his eye swollen and crusty from being hit with what looks like a brick if it could be. The boy would howl in delight as his violet-blue hair that would stay clutching to his skin on the scalp of his forehead would waver, his delight bringing in more bloodthirsty calls from his comrades.
“We finally got ya you damn little rat, don’t we boys?” he would turn to say, almost mockingly to his allies. They would reply back with growls of triumph at the one they have chased. “So, whatcha gonna do now boy? You be outnumbered 15 to 1 Rafael, you’re reputation as the King of Gangs is gone with this.” The scarred boy would say, taunting the other boy for reactions of any sort, even the most minimal. The boy would finally raise his head upwards, parting his bobby, strands of tentacle ink hair to reveal diamond shaped ruby eyes, so purely red that they look as if to be a vial containing blood, little galaxies of gold dotting the circumference of Rafael’s eyes as he would stand at exactly 6 feet, his height dwarfed by the taller boy as he would be wearing a slim jacket, gray in texture with leather straps of black to keep it together, as a torn, rumpled black sweat shirt would be under it, with torn blue jeans and worn shoes shown as well. Rafael would slowly breathe out, then look up and smile at the boy as he would whistle, a low, 3 burst tone note that would ring out in the rather silent alleyway. The other boy would look around, questions in his harsh, pure almond eyes as he would return his gaze to Rafael.
“The hell did ya just do huh?” He would say with a growl as his fist would come close to Rafael’s tanned gold face, his set jaw line indicating no response. “Bloody bastard, learn some manners already, you are bout to be dog food to my boys, and they be hungry more than usual for ya heh…” The boy would say, the fires of madness showing his movements and the brightness in his eyes. Finally, Rafael would look to the other boy, a smile playing at his otherwise passive features, as he would fully smile, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth. Immediately, the ground would shake as if a tremor is occurring, rocking the world where it stands as dozens of stampeding feet are being heard as of now. They would swarm the roof tops of the alleys occupying buildings, both the right and left stores, as mechanical looking long bows would be produced from the roof tops. They would be reaching to 3 feet in height, colored out with pure, ebony black in the design with ribbons of gold, to show a royal appearance as a notched arrow would be locked into place, as if all of the wielders are experts just from this. The arrow head would, oddly enough, be completely round, no point whatsoever, as it seems to produce a gravitational effect, drawing in tiny amounts of scrap metal of any kind, as each arrow head soon turns into a true, curved head of Death. Rattling would be heard from the inside of the makeshift arrow heads, as if a swarm of bees would be buzzing wildly inside. The boy and his gang would stare around at Rafael, fear showing in their faces as they are outnumbered 5 to 1 for each member. Rafael would approach the tall, rather uneducated boy, his smile fully shown as he speaks. “So...who are the prey and the predator now hm?” Rafael’s voice would take a note of ice in it, so deathly cold it feels like shivers run down the spines of his enemies as the boys cringe back in fear. “Nightmare Syndicate, ready the Day Flash arrows.” Rafael would say. Hundreds of clicking sounds would be heard, as if a safety mechanism is finally unleashed, as the bows would illuminate red reticules at the gang below, all sights trained on them expertly. “So Kenta, might we have any final words before these dull walls are painted a new art style?” Rafael’s voice sings outwards towards him. Kenta would order a retreat, the whimper of a call barely heard in the drowning fear that is their immediate death of these teenagers, as they would run out, as if like a pack of dogs with their tail between their legs.
