A Neo Way of Life
[Disclaimer: I own nothing.]
A babysitter. A babysitter wasn't what you expected when you were given this promotion. Criminal Lackey Grade 3B was your "official" job title, not quite amongst the ranks of the Mooks, those guys were all fodder for Captain Bowler Hat to get away safely.
You wish you were a Mook at this point though, seeing as you'd been assigned to "watch over a new recruit" as the job description said. It was your ability to go without being killed over the span of 5 minutes that nabbed you this advancement, specifically during that little brawl between the old White Fang delegate and her little group.
It was based off the fact that you'd been md to just be assigned to babysit that your anger got the better of you, caught in an angry stride in which you didn't watch where you were going, crashing into people, benches, trash cans, the works. Not that it mattered, you phased through all the scenery and background anyways. Something about this all being a part of some show where not everything could be tangible. Whatever, it didn't matter anyways.
Finding yourself in front of an apartment complex, you ring the room you need to be in for entry into the complex. The intercom rings for a good while before it ceases, the door soundly unlocking despite the absence of a greeting from the person on the opposite end of the intercom. They must not want to talk, good, 'cause you don't either.
Taking the stairs up to the room, you notice that the room isn't as flashy or glamourous as you'd expect Roman to go for. You shrug in indifference before knocking on the door. Oddly enough, you hear what seems to be someone sprinting to the door, unlatching the deadbolt, then sprinting away again off into the depths of the apartment, causing your eyebrows to raise in intrigue despite your previous indifference. Slowly opening the door, you check your corners, cautious now. Seeing nothing to alarm you, you walk in further.
Suddenly, you lose your balance and find yourself on the floor. You've tripped over a plastic dinosaur toy, splaying you out across the entry hall, blood coming from a large gash in your head. The sweet, cold embrace of death grips you tightly as you bleed out on the floor.
The end.
(A/N: Seriously, more to come. Based off of a greentext story from 4chan that I felt needed more fleshing out. I have gotten permission from OC of the greentext to write this.)