Weston=Ares
"What makes me special compared to practically everyone else? First off, I'm six feet, two inches tall, incredibly apathetic, in love with all kinds of weaponry, and really enjoy the sound of kids angry at me. However, there's more to me, apparently. I ended up being some sort of reincarnation of Ares, you know, 'God of War.' Hell if I know how, but I accepted it right off the back… Right, forgot, special talent… Well, anyway, I'll have to take it back to the beginning, at least as long as I can remember back then. It started around twelve, maybe eleven, years ago. I was a young boy, enjoying life, running around outside, playing tag and hide-and-seek because that was what all the normal kids do. However, that's when I saw a few 'upperclassmen' at my school, maybe around two or three grades above me. These guys back then, they were amazing. I really looked up to them, they could run fast, jump high, and always hung out with each other on the school's playground. I remember walking up to them to introduce myself."
"Hi, I'm Weston? Who're you?" I remember asking them as I held out my hand in a polite manner, keeping that same bright smile on my face. The guy in the middle, can't remember his name and nor do I care to even try to remember, must have thought pretty lowly of me. I can still recall he swatted my hand aside and said something along the lines of:
"Get lost, shrimp. We're not interested." Heh, looking back on it, I thought they were actually interested. They called me by the name of my favorite seafood and had the brain of a walnut to think it was actually a proper insult. What morons. I'm glad I wasn't a part of whatever group they had.
So, of course, I just shrug it off and walk away, the kids laughing at me because I was a short kid, kind of heavy-set, and normally too friendly with people. Apparently they thought being apathetic towards others was a 'cool kid' thing to do. Well, regardless of how little I care today, I can tell you it's not. If anything, it's more of a curse, a disease, something you don't get rid of easily. Anyway, getting off track. I went back to play another game of tag with some of the other kids, two of which became my best friends through life. During that game, I ran into this one girl who was in the same hiding spot as me. I still remember her; around my height at the time, brown hair, captivating blue eyes, and the sort of smile that would make your heart melt at first glance. We talked for a while, introducing ourselves.
"What's your name?" God, every time I think of that voice, my spine just tingles. It was very soft, almost one that you'd confuse with a cat.
"Weston. You have a name?" I asked a bit too formally, but nonetheless, first girl to shake my hand. She told me it was Sarah, a nice name for a girl that actually had some manners at the school.
"How long have you been here?" I remember asking as I scooted back against the wall to give the girl some space, plus I was kind of shy around girls at that age.
"The spot or the school?" Even the slight sarcasm was something that made me laugh a bit. But yeah, us talking, and especially me laughing, ended up getting me caught during that hide-and-seek game. But, I really didn't care. It was totally worth it. We all went back inside and my two friends William and Jacob were actually meeting each other for the first time as well. Overall, that school was actually fun when I think about it. I got to meet some nice people and get somewhat of an education.
Ah, I'll skip the boring parts of it, all the way through eighth grade, life had been a breeze. I was already the tallest of the school at six feet during my seventh grade year. Only kid who matched my height was a public school transfer student, Jesse. He was a pretty chill guy, hell, I'd hang out with him if I put in the effort to actually speak to anyone that year. But yeah, end of eighth grade, there's always that one kid in the school no one likes because he leads some kind of wanna-be gang and normally tries to intimidate kids to get his own way. That really changed when he actually offered to fight me in back of the school. I still remember those stupid words that came out of his mouth, and then the sarcasm that came out of mine.
"Behind the school. Three fifteen. Show up, chicken."
"Sorry, could you repeat that? You paused so many times I think you may be breaking up." Heh, wow, I was a bit less sarcastic and more of just a jerk to the kid. He earned it, anyway.
Fight starts behind the school, I'm pretty much not even ready for this, but he looks like he's getting a bit too hyped up for this. I kept avoiding him, kind of regretting my decision to accept this. He lands a hit and something seems to snap inside me, not literally, emotionally. I remember that takedown like it was last week. I swept out his legs from under him, basically drove my foot into the backs of his knees to get him down. Once I noticed he was going to get back up, especially how he grabbed onto me, I slammed my elbow into his ribs, I could have swore something cracked. Anyway, that brought him to the ground, when I then pinned him by the neck and began to beat his left cheek in until the little bitch was bleeding from the mouth. He lost a few teeth, but they stayed in place, thanks to his braces. Poor bastard, but, he had to learn to suck it up. I left that day feeling odd, like I could actually take on the world, so I moved to perfect that fighting style of mine.
About a year later, signed up for some Krav Maga lessons, you know, Israeli martial arts that the military uses and such. I began to build myself up from that class, especially combined with a few water sports and weight lifting while I was in high school. I ended up becoming unstoppable when it came to sparring, hell, the instructed had to send four guys at once to actually stand some sort of a chance. I took them down easily and just laughed, thinking already had enough practice. That's when I started getting into knives, blades, anything sharp I can use as a weapon, the perfect mix of weaponry and hand-to-hand combat. I was already top of the line when I got in, especially better than that one kid who thought all that time playing Battlefield 4 had taught him something. Let's put it this way: I 'stole his tags.' I moved on after a year of that, ended up falling in love with another sort of weapon. Ballistics.
Man, do the booming sounds and the smell of hot lead soothe my nerves. I'll tell you, nothing beats a gun, and I've been training with knives and my fists my entire life, since I seem to be proficient at those. However, I thought to myself that I'd give guns a try, the fancy ARs, Shotguns, Snipers, Handguns, really anything I could get my hands on that makes a loud bang followed by the calming sound of empty brass hitting a stone floor. I liked the way I met this one kid as well, Chris. I end up coming to the school's locker room and see some kind of red lettering saying to go somewhere and meet him, apparently supposed to represent blood, or might've been real blood, I didn't care. I followed the directions with a smile on my face, of course packed an AR with me just in case, and that's when he brings up some kind of offer, find other teens with abilities and skills like us. My first thought at his weird invitation to join his club…
"Now, this guy is speakin' my language. Count me in." My second thought, however, was that the kid was trying a bit too hard to impress me. Even if that wasn't his plan, it sure as hell worked. But damn, to think I was living a normal life for once, I get sucked in to this. I'm not complaining, anyway.
"Had to get your attention somehow." Chris smirked.
...That's another thing I never understood… How the fuck did you get in here- But, what really caught my eye, was the intention that he wanted to make others really feel pain. I like the way he thinks. Anyway, let's wrap this up, I got places to be.
What's one thing I regret about life so far? Well, the fact I'm pretty much that one, single guy who doesn't care about relationships and instead focuses too much in getting stuff done in an enjoyable way. Although, I do have to admit, that Brenna girl is hot, but I found something a bit hotter. All I have to do is look in the mirror.
With that sarcastic comment, Weston only laughs to himself before looking back at the two teens who interviewed him, of course, they didn't believe a word he said until he got to the part about ballistic weapons. The boy only sighs and rolls his eyes, standing from the chair as he dusted off his black, hooded bomber jacket and his navy blue jeans. He looked over at them as one was about to ask him a question, before he raised his finger for them to be quiet.
"I don't want to hear it. You already make me uncomfortable knowing we share the same oxygen, so don't make me cringe with your voice."
With that, he walked out of the room, whistling to himself as he headed home.
"What did they want?"
"Some crappy interview for the school paper. Wanted my life story to represent the school. Well, they picked the wrong guy."
Chris laughed. "Too true. Anyway, I found Hermes."
"Really? Where is he?"
"In Jail. Again."
"Well, absolu- Wait, again? Either way, I don't know the kid." Weston said with a light shrug.
"Remember that kid that sits behind you in 3rd period?"
"...And now I know him. Robert. What'd he-?"
"378 robberies last year. 2 a day if he felt like it."