COMPLETED
Mad:
•Insane
•Very angry
•Great, remarkable
Sang Sorenson is mad. Very mad. But growing up in the mafia with an abusive family, who wouldn't be? Sang is ordered to kidnap a certain growing team in the Academy, the Blackbourne-Toma team. Wi...
Unfortunately, I still don't have my device, though...
Enjoy this update, and don't forget to vote!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The boys burst into shouts, like they normally do, as I merely nod and take my blindfold from the normal spot in the cabinet.
"Oh, Diamond? Your opponents will be these lovely specimens!" Jacob calls before bursting into hysterical laughter.
I smile at him and join him in his laughter, because, well, why not? I enjoy a good laugh. And by good, I mean maniacal. Besides, Jacob hates laughing alone. And when Jacob gets mad... He may seem like a fun person, but he is definitely not fun to be around when he is angry. Bones break, blood, sweat, and tears are shed, and people die. You know, the not so fun junk.
"Sang?" Gabriel calls nervously.
North booms, "Whatever you did, undo it, crazy man!"
"A-Are y-you ok-k-kay-y, S-Sang-g?" Kota stammers.
"Better than okay, darling," I purr.
"No!" North booms, seemingly realizing what is going on.
I shout back with a wide grin, "Yes!"
"Wait. You want us to fight Dr. Sean?" Sean exclaims.
Jacob gives him a funny look and asks, "Who is Dr. Sean? You'll be fighting Pink Diamond."
"HELL NO!" Gabriel protests, his bright blue eyes wide.
Axel argues, "She has to have surgery soon!"
"Not if I can help it!" Brandon adds, wrinkling his brow.
"I don't want to hurt her!" Nathan shouts.
"Hurt me?" I echo incredulously.
Jacob chuckles darkly, "Boy, you wouldn't last fifteen minutes."
"Please," Nathan scoffs. "I am a trained martial arts expert. I would be able to last at least fifteen minutes, if not win. She may be the famed Pink Diamond, but I am a fighter as well."
"Wanna bet?" I snort, knowing that many people have thought that they could beat me.
"If we win, you explain why you choose not to eat," Marc butts in.
Luke tries to gain his attention, to say something, but Marc's attention is fully on me.
"Fine," I snarl. "But if I win, you all have to let me have my surgery as soon as Wil is ready without another complaint."
"Deal," Marc snarled back, his different colored eyes wild with anger and fear.
Storming off, I tie the black bandana around my head and use my extensive memory to make my way to the room that is primarily used for sparring. In the middle of the room, I adapt a fighting stance and wait, relying on my senses. Years of training, of fighting, of sparring, have trained my senses to be incredibly heightened. Despite my innocent look, I am a fierce warrior. A warrior trained to kill and feel nothing.
