The words are just flowing out of my mind. Today, I was able to
write a fair amount of the 3rd chapter at work. You should see the
register tape flowing out of my pockets. It seems there are no notebooks
or such at the front of the store.
Disclaimer: "Schwarz" and some of the ideas for their origins belong
to Koyasu Takehito-sama and Project Weiß. All other stuff came from the
area between my ears.
Oh.author's note. The character later on, Langly, imagine Muraki
from "Yami no Matsuei" only with blond hair and not quite as murderous
looking.sinister, yes.murderous, no. Like "Muraki-seducing-Tsuzuki" look.
=)
Another note. This is a revised version of the 3rd chapter. A
couple of spots have thoughts that aren't specified, so I use //\\ instead
of "". Obie-kabie?
********************************************************************
Four some hours later: New York, New York
Bradley opened his eyes as the bus came to a halt. He saw the other passengers getting up and moving toward the front. He ended up sleeping for most of the ride to the city, although he was kind of regretting it now because he had the worst kink in his neck.
Brad massaged the one side of his neck with one hand and grabbed his bag with the other. He slowly walked out of the bus well after everybody else had left.
He shrugged and walked into the terminal. The smell of funnel cakes hit his nose, which in turn made him really hungry since he didn't have breakfast and he remembered that he had those cookies in his bag. "The first thing I do is get something to eat."
He sat down in the seating area and opened his bag. The cookies were right on top. Bradley reached into the bag and pulled out two chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate chip were defiantly his favorite. He looked around at all of the people walking about. A voice came over the loud speaker, though the voice was almost inaudible over all of the voices around him. After swallowing the final cookie, Brad got up and wondered up into the section of the terminal with all of the shops and such. He walked up and noticed all the way at the end was an opening to the outside world. So, of course, he headed that way.
As he stepped out of the building, Brad looked around. "Well, it sure smells different," he said aloud; car exhaust, garbage, just dirty air in general. Although he swore he could smell pancakes far off in the distance.
Brad looked to his left and then to his right. "Hmmm, which way should I go?" He of course had no idea where he was. Just out of sheer randomness, he turned to his left and walked straight. When he stopped at the corner waiting to cross, he looked up at the street sign. 7th Avenue. "Alright, well that gives me an idea of where I am."
And so Bradley Crawford walked.and walked. He looked around at everything, soaking it all in, looking for anything that sparked his interest. But there wasn't anything really. He followed 7th all the way to Times Square and then kept on following the road as far as it would go. Obviously, he was going nowhere.
He wasn't walking very fast at all. It took him almost an hour and a half to walk all the way up. But there he was, facing Central Park. "Well, where should I go now?" he thought to himself. He then remembered that vision he had earlier; the guy sitting on a park bench. Remembering that, he headed into the park.
Brad walked into the park. He felt relaxed with the surroundings suddenly changing around him from busy city streets to green grass and chirping birds. As he walked down the paths provided, he almost forgot where he was. But he didn't forget that his legs were starting to hurt. There was a park bench on his right, so Brad put his bag on the bench and sat down next to it.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The breeze tossed his bangs around so he brushed them back with his hand as the tickling was starting to annoy him. He thought to himself, "I didn't plan this whole running away thing very well. I'm clueless as to what I want to do."
Suddenly a voice from across the lane said to him, "Running away usually isn't a good thing to do. What was so wrong with your life before, that you had to leave?"
Brad looked up. Sitting on the bench across from him was a blond haired man. He was wearing a business suit and sat there cross-legged. His dark eyes were burrowing into Brad's head.
Bradley blinked. "Excuse me?" he said to the man.
The man gave Bradley a quaint smile. "I said, what was wrong with your former life that you had to leave it so abruptly?"
Brad froze. //Okay, this guy just said something that I was just thinking.\\
"You're a very perceptive young man."
Brad closed his mouth, which had seemed to have opened in the progression of his surprise and tried to regain his composure. "How did you know what I was thinking?" he asked the man in a defensive tone.
The man smiled. "Because I can read your thoughts. I am a telepath."
Brad blinked.again. He thought to himself, "A telepath? You've got to be kidding me.but then who ever heard of someone being able to see the future," he bit his lip, "I have got to stop thinking."
"Oh," the man raised an eyebrow, "So you're a precog?"
//Is that what I'm called?\\
"Yes it is."
This time he said aloud to the man, "What do you want?"
"Well," he began, "first let me introduce myself. My name is Kendrick Langly. I am a telepath, as you so abruptly found out. The reason I said anything to you is because I find you to be interesting. I figured you had some sort of mental ability that most normal people don't possess. You are thinking how I knew you had some special ability of the mind, yes? Of course you are. Well, because you use more of your brain than most people, your mind is cloudier than everybody else's. I can't read it quite as well. Think of it like looking at a book without glasses. I can read thoughts you are thinking at this very moment in time, but probing your mind is difficult."
Brad didn't like the sound of this guy probing minds, especially his. But at least his mind was supposedly difficult to probe. That gave him some comfort.
"So you ran away from home. If I may guess at why, everybody knew about your mental abilities and deemed you mental, a freak, a monster."
"Don't forget anti-christ," Brad thought to himself and he guessed to this Langly guy as well.
".So you left so as to not put up with it anymore and here you are. I am willing to bet that you would like to prove to all those people that you are so much more than your basic freak, am I right?"
Brad was really starting to dislike this guy. He hated it when someone brought how he was feeling or what he has thought about issues up to him. It's not like he didn't already know. But this guy took the cake. But he was right, in every aspect.
"What if I told you that I would be willing to help you become more then what you are. You have a lot of potential. I can teach you to block telepaths like me from searching your thoughts."
"I thought you said you couldn't read my thoughts," Bradley brought up to him.
"No, I said you are difficult to read. I didn't say you were impossible. I might be able to even strengthen your abilities so you can use them to your advantage. So, what do you say?"
Brad didn't know what to think. This guy that he doesn't really care for is offering to help him so he isn't so much of a freak as he is now; or maybe more of a freak. He didn't know. "Why would a high-class guy like yourself want to help an arrogant runaway like me?" he said to him.
Langly smiled again. "I like a challenge. It's your choice. Would you rather come with me and live in luxury, mind you, refining for powers and becoming more cultured a person, or would you rather return to your unplanned runaway lifestyle?"
You know, he has a good point. //Well, it would appear I don't have too many options.\\ Brad said, "When do we start?"
The man smiled. "My car is just outside the park." Langly brushed some bang that the wind had blown over his eye. "You know, I never did get your name."
Brad didn't answer right away. After a little while, he said, "Bradley Crawford."
Langly frowned. "Hmmm.Bradley, well that isn't too respectable of a name. I think you should go by Crawford from now on. It seems to demand respect. Especially because it is your surname." He stood up. "Well, shall we be going, Crawford?"
Brad stood up and took a hold of the handles of his bag. Respect. Yes, he would demand it from now on. "Alright, let's go."
The two men walked off to exit the park.
Four some hours later: New York, New York
Bradley opened his eyes as the bus came to a halt. He saw the other passengers getting up and moving toward the front. He ended up sleeping for most of the ride to the city, although he was kind of regretting it now because he had the worst kink in his neck.
Brad massaged the one side of his neck with one hand and grabbed his bag with the other. He slowly walked out of the bus well after everybody else had left.
He shrugged and walked into the terminal. The smell of funnel cakes hit his nose, which in turn made him really hungry since he didn't have breakfast and he remembered that he had those cookies in his bag. "The first thing I do is get something to eat."
He sat down in the seating area and opened his bag. The cookies were right on top. Bradley reached into the bag and pulled out two chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate chip were defiantly his favorite. He looked around at all of the people walking about. A voice came over the loud speaker, though the voice was almost inaudible over all of the voices around him. After swallowing the final cookie, Brad got up and wondered up into the section of the terminal with all of the shops and such. He walked up and noticed all the way at the end was an opening to the outside world. So, of course, he headed that way.
As he stepped out of the building, Brad looked around. "Well, it sure smells different," he said aloud; car exhaust, garbage, just dirty air in general. Although he swore he could smell pancakes far off in the distance.
Brad looked to his left and then to his right. "Hmmm, which way should I go?" He of course had no idea where he was. Just out of sheer randomness, he turned to his left and walked straight. When he stopped at the corner waiting to cross, he looked up at the street sign. 7th Avenue. "Alright, well that gives me an idea of where I am."
And so Bradley Crawford walked.and walked. He looked around at everything, soaking it all in, looking for anything that sparked his interest. But there wasn't anything really. He followed 7th all the way to Times Square and then kept on following the road as far as it would go. Obviously, he was going nowhere.
He wasn't walking very fast at all. It took him almost an hour and a half to walk all the way up. But there he was, facing Central Park. "Well, where should I go now?" he thought to himself. He then remembered that vision he had earlier; the guy sitting on a park bench. Remembering that, he headed into the park.
Brad walked into the park. He felt relaxed with the surroundings suddenly changing around him from busy city streets to green grass and chirping birds. As he walked down the paths provided, he almost forgot where he was. But he didn't forget that his legs were starting to hurt. There was a park bench on his right, so Brad put his bag on the bench and sat down next to it.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The breeze tossed his bangs around so he brushed them back with his hand as the tickling was starting to annoy him. He thought to himself, "I didn't plan this whole running away thing very well. I'm clueless as to what I want to do."
Suddenly a voice from across the lane said to him, "Running away usually isn't a good thing to do. What was so wrong with your life before, that you had to leave?"
Brad looked up. Sitting on the bench across from him was a blond haired man. He was wearing a business suit and sat there cross-legged. His dark eyes were burrowing into Brad's head.
Bradley blinked. "Excuse me?" he said to the man.
The man gave Bradley a quaint smile. "I said, what was wrong with your former life that you had to leave it so abruptly?"
Brad froze. //Okay, this guy just said something that I was just thinking.\\
"You're a very perceptive young man."
Brad closed his mouth, which had seemed to have opened in the progression of his surprise and tried to regain his composure. "How did you know what I was thinking?" he asked the man in a defensive tone.
The man smiled. "Because I can read your thoughts. I am a telepath."
Brad blinked.again. He thought to himself, "A telepath? You've got to be kidding me.but then who ever heard of someone being able to see the future," he bit his lip, "I have got to stop thinking."
"Oh," the man raised an eyebrow, "So you're a precog?"
//Is that what I'm called?\\
"Yes it is."
This time he said aloud to the man, "What do you want?"
"Well," he began, "first let me introduce myself. My name is Kendrick Langly. I am a telepath, as you so abruptly found out. The reason I said anything to you is because I find you to be interesting. I figured you had some sort of mental ability that most normal people don't possess. You are thinking how I knew you had some special ability of the mind, yes? Of course you are. Well, because you use more of your brain than most people, your mind is cloudier than everybody else's. I can't read it quite as well. Think of it like looking at a book without glasses. I can read thoughts you are thinking at this very moment in time, but probing your mind is difficult."
Brad didn't like the sound of this guy probing minds, especially his. But at least his mind was supposedly difficult to probe. That gave him some comfort.
"So you ran away from home. If I may guess at why, everybody knew about your mental abilities and deemed you mental, a freak, a monster."
"Don't forget anti-christ," Brad thought to himself and he guessed to this Langly guy as well.
".So you left so as to not put up with it anymore and here you are. I am willing to bet that you would like to prove to all those people that you are so much more than your basic freak, am I right?"
Brad was really starting to dislike this guy. He hated it when someone brought how he was feeling or what he has thought about issues up to him. It's not like he didn't already know. But this guy took the cake. But he was right, in every aspect.
"What if I told you that I would be willing to help you become more then what you are. You have a lot of potential. I can teach you to block telepaths like me from searching your thoughts."
"I thought you said you couldn't read my thoughts," Bradley brought up to him.
"No, I said you are difficult to read. I didn't say you were impossible. I might be able to even strengthen your abilities so you can use them to your advantage. So, what do you say?"
Brad didn't know what to think. This guy that he doesn't really care for is offering to help him so he isn't so much of a freak as he is now; or maybe more of a freak. He didn't know. "Why would a high-class guy like yourself want to help an arrogant runaway like me?" he said to him.
Langly smiled again. "I like a challenge. It's your choice. Would you rather come with me and live in luxury, mind you, refining for powers and becoming more cultured a person, or would you rather return to your unplanned runaway lifestyle?"
You know, he has a good point. //Well, it would appear I don't have too many options.\\ Brad said, "When do we start?"
The man smiled. "My car is just outside the park." Langly brushed some bang that the wind had blown over his eye. "You know, I never did get your name."
Brad didn't answer right away. After a little while, he said, "Bradley Crawford."
Langly frowned. "Hmmm.Bradley, well that isn't too respectable of a name. I think you should go by Crawford from now on. It seems to demand respect. Especially because it is your surname." He stood up. "Well, shall we be going, Crawford?"
Brad stood up and took a hold of the handles of his bag. Respect. Yes, he would demand it from now on. "Alright, let's go."
The two men walked off to exit the park.