Santiago was not considered "normal" by anyone, and he didn't care, although it got lonely sometimes. All he did was push down the bile called emotions and moved forward. That is actually where the story begins. Sounds strange, huh? Well, this is his life, not mine or yours, now let's digress.

(Thoughts of characters, Emphasis, Flirty, Something to remember.)

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"Oof!" Went the boy who ran into Santiago. "Ouchie," he whined when he fell, hard, to the ground!

He made no excuses, he cared not of a weakling who fell so easily, "Move the Hell out of the way, brat."

A glare came from the boy who held no fear, to the interest of Santiago. "If you weren't takin' up the whole damn street, this wouldn't've happened!" The boy stood up quicker than one would have expected from his looks.

Santiago noticed this; the boy had scruffy short hair, but long enough to confuse him for a girl. The hair was horribly dyed, black at the bottom and shades of red and light brown in different places at the top. He wore a pair of simple, black glasses he wasn't tall, but he wasn't short either. The boy wore tattered, ragged, loose fitting clothes. An over-sized red shirt with the Harley symbol on it, and his pants were obviously too big and barely being held up by a loose belt. The only thing that seemed new were his black sneakers that held no brand. Santiago also noticed the boy was sizing him up as if preparing to fight, as if he could take the man! So unappealing to the eye, uck.

He was right though, the boy was sizing him up, prepared to defend himself to the end! It was how it was, and always had been, but he didn't care. What he saw did intimidate him, but only a little bit; the man had messy black hair but on part of his bangs/hair was white? Pffffft, skunk head. He had olive green eyes, mmmm olives, which seemed hollow and even void of life as they bored into him, oh please, self, stop trembling! The man was built and perfectly proportional, unlike most men who looked gross. The man, although built, was not extremely muscular. He wore sophisticated clothing and everything looked clean and/or new. The man sported a visible hickey, or bruise, on his neck. It was obvious he held no shame, but much pride.

"Enjoying the view?" Santiago spit venomously.

"I could ask you the same thing," a sly smile made nest on his face, "You looked entranced~."

All he could do was roll those cold eyes of his and resist the urge to hit this disgusting child in front of him. "Kid, I'd rather kill you than look at you anymore than I have to."

"Ha!" His laugh earned him a dumbfounded look from the older male. "You wouldn't! Besides, even if you would, it's not like I'm weak enough not to fight back." The boy smile turned genuine, "As long as I don't give up, and I fight, then my life was well lived, and I I fought to the end, well, that wouldn't be too bad."

Santiago stood staring at the boy, void of all emotion save for a slight confused look, though honestly, he was still extremely intimidating, but you can't live without taking risks! Without any other formalities, he started to walk away, but before getting to far out of earshot, he looked back and barked an ugly laugh as he screamed, "You can call me banshee, by the way." He ran off laughing a high pitched screech so loud it was a miracle that his glasses didn't break.

"Fucking freak."

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