Post by Mullet Fish on Apr 11, 2006 20:07:11 GMT -5
(Okay, mostly I just want to use my new character, Jack, because he could be fun to use. Um, I'm just going to sort of make this up as I go along. Bear with me.)
It was a beautiful spring day. One of the first warm days of the year. Birds chattered noisily amongst themselves in the trees, and the last of the snow was slowly melting away. The sidewalks of the city were packed, as people enjoyed the fresh air, often accompanied by dogs or other pets. The atmosphere was light-headed and cheery.
There was one figure, however, who stood out from the rest of the crowd, and it may have been due in part to the wide berth people gave him. Conversation temporarily ceased as they came within earshot of hm, and they eyed him warily until they were satisfied that he would not try to harm them, usually once he was out of their sight.
The man, however, seemed not to notice. His face was grim as he took a long drag on the cigarette in his mouth and exhaled. Smoke swirled around his head, making him seem strangely sinister.
Soon, however, the man turned down an alley and the street was rid of the gloomy, foreboding character.
It was several hours later that the shop exploded. A small convenience store that probably only scraped barely enough income to live on. There was a dull roar that quickly ascended to a deafening boom. There was a crash as the store window exploded outwards, showering the somewhat thinner crows with shards of glass. The roof was suddenly non-existent, a memory that manifested itself only in the flaming shingles and shards of wood that also showered the crowds, which were now panicking. Flame spouted out the top of the building for a moment, then subsided. The building stood there for a moment, as if unsure of what to do next, before collapsing with a great crash. The poor crowd was now choked by a large white cloud of dust, and a chorus of coughing and wheezing could be faintly heard beneath the crackling of the fire and the wail of the sirens which approached quickly.
About two blocks away, the shady figure which had walked away from that very store several hours earlier looked at his watch, scribbled something in a notebook and tossed his cigarette butt into a pile of snow, where it hissed before going out.
He looked at the page a moment. "Fuse slow--less sug., more amm. nit." He nodded, shut it, slid it in his pocket and walked away unnoticed.
(Okay, just like...go with it. Be whatever you like. A cop or something? Think of something, I'm too lazy to.)
It was a beautiful spring day. One of the first warm days of the year. Birds chattered noisily amongst themselves in the trees, and the last of the snow was slowly melting away. The sidewalks of the city were packed, as people enjoyed the fresh air, often accompanied by dogs or other pets. The atmosphere was light-headed and cheery.
There was one figure, however, who stood out from the rest of the crowd, and it may have been due in part to the wide berth people gave him. Conversation temporarily ceased as they came within earshot of hm, and they eyed him warily until they were satisfied that he would not try to harm them, usually once he was out of their sight.
The man, however, seemed not to notice. His face was grim as he took a long drag on the cigarette in his mouth and exhaled. Smoke swirled around his head, making him seem strangely sinister.
Soon, however, the man turned down an alley and the street was rid of the gloomy, foreboding character.
It was several hours later that the shop exploded. A small convenience store that probably only scraped barely enough income to live on. There was a dull roar that quickly ascended to a deafening boom. There was a crash as the store window exploded outwards, showering the somewhat thinner crows with shards of glass. The roof was suddenly non-existent, a memory that manifested itself only in the flaming shingles and shards of wood that also showered the crowds, which were now panicking. Flame spouted out the top of the building for a moment, then subsided. The building stood there for a moment, as if unsure of what to do next, before collapsing with a great crash. The poor crowd was now choked by a large white cloud of dust, and a chorus of coughing and wheezing could be faintly heard beneath the crackling of the fire and the wail of the sirens which approached quickly.
About two blocks away, the shady figure which had walked away from that very store several hours earlier looked at his watch, scribbled something in a notebook and tossed his cigarette butt into a pile of snow, where it hissed before going out.
He looked at the page a moment. "Fuse slow--less sug., more amm. nit." He nodded, shut it, slid it in his pocket and walked away unnoticed.
(Okay, just like...go with it. Be whatever you like. A cop or something? Think of something, I'm too lazy to.)
