It was dark outside on the cool winter night. There was a slight, chilly breeze through the air. Chuck was leaning against a wall in a different alley. He was eating a small sandwich, which was almost refrigerated by the cold. PB&J, not his favorite, but he could deal with it.
A warm light suddenly flickered on. It was a partially dull, orange light, radiating from something small. /A lighter./ Chuck then spoke out into the dark, due to the fact that the light didn't do much for sight.
"Hello?" The only answer for his question was silence. At least, for a minute. The voice that proceeded to speak was a bit deep, but very stern and serious. It was terrifying.
"Who the fuck are you, and why are you on my turf?" There was just a hint of a somewhat Irish accent in his voice.
/Turf? What does he mean by turf? That makes me think of that one old movie with the two-/ Chuck's train of thought came to a halt, and he whispered something to himself.
"/Gang./" A street light turned on nearby, and now he could see the man.
He was tall but thin, and had fiery orange hair down to his shoulder blades, which was tied back in a ponytail, with a single curl sticking out on his face. He had piercing yellow eyes, and a surgical mask over his mouth, with three characters written on it, possibly Japanese.
He had a black tank top on with a brown belt which sagged to one side. He had ripped jeans and red converse, that were dirty from the normal wear and tear. He was pale, and freckles covered his face and body.
And he was holding a metal bat.
"I- I don't mean any trouble—"
"That's what they all say. Now tell me what the fuck you're doing here, alright?"
"I- I was just passing through—"
"Do you want a metal bat against your skull buddy?" He raised the bat and went to swing, when the light of a flashlight hit both of them.
"NO—!"
YOU ARE READING
God: A Story Of A Failed Lord
FantasyThis is a story that includes a few of my original characters, but mainly focuses on one named Chuck. Enjoy!!
