I love you all. Cookies and Wild Cherry Pepsi for all! *runs around with a
box of cookies throwing cans at people* Oops sorry about that, didn't mean
to hit you.
I've been writing so far to the lovely music of Linkin Park. But today I think the choice will be Pennywise, that it will.
Special thanks to remnants-2011, firestarter, and stretch.
Shade, you're my bffae but verbal abuse is mean. No cookies or cake for you!
I own everything! Muahahahahahahahahaha! *several other authors, the Pepsi corporation, the writers of Ruroni Kenshin, Stan Lee, the band Pennywise, Linkin Park, and Kebler Co. begin to bang on the door* Well not everything.
As always, R&R! Oh! BTW '' means thought. I forgot that ff.net didn't show italics so the little flashback looked out of place. Sorry bout that. -Tigereyes *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^* *^*^*^*^*^*^*
Ronin had stolen a similar bike to the one the Lippoli snaked from a gas station, a black Yamaha YZF-R1. (A/N: my dream bike, sorry about the drool) The force grew stronger, the closer he got to West Chester. It pulled at his heart and mind. The road was relatively clear for him, save for a few cars he blew up for fun that happened to be on *his* road.
Trees became thicker and to him it seemed a little eerie. He wished to set them all ablaze, but the force told him not to, so he declined his craving for fire. He hadn't stopped or eaten since he left the Bronx. His stomach rumbled in protest to the lack of food, but he ignored it. All that mattered was that force.
His face was healing, but a scar would remain. He did nothing to bandage it, so the scab was repulsive and hard to look at. He cut the engine and coasted up to a wrought iron gate with a beautiful brick fence attached to it. The force pulled hard in his chest and mind then left.
Ronin looked in the bars. A massive mansion greeted him. Red brick similar to the gate covered the whole building capped with a black roof. There were expansive greens and beautiful statues and tall, regal trees. Ronin shook his head, as if waking from a trance. His eyes faded from that erie amber to a warm violet. He ran his stiff hand through his shaggy hair and pondered the force that pulled him from the place he refused to call home.
He was so deep in thought that he did not hear an engine roaring down the road. It wasn't until the engine cut that he looked up to find another rider on a bike similar to the one he himself was on.
"Do you live here?" Ronin inquired to the boy on the bike.
"No, and I assume you don't either," the boy replied.
Ronin had a feeling that he had seen this boy before. Perhaps it was the cross-shaped cut on the boy's cheek and purple eyes that reminded him of himself.
Lippoli was also having a hard time placing the boy that faced him. They looked just like one another, save for their hair.
The silence was heavy and neither could figure out the other. Finally, Lippoli could not endure the silence any longer.
"Name's Lippoli," he said holding his hand out to shake with the other boy.
"Ronin," the other replied clasping hands with him.
A vision hit both of them as soon as their hands touched. It was sketchy and only showed quick images.
An explosion. Fire. Water everywhere. Squealing tires. A woman's scream.
Ronin and Lippoli pulled apart. Ronin shook his head as Lippoli did the same. The gates opened and they stared in warily. It was enticing and beautiful, but that pesky old proverb comes to mind, don't judge a book by its cover. Lippoli took in the sight as Ronin looked at him.
'Why does he seem so familiar? This is absolutely going to bother me until I figure it out.'
"Should we go in? I mean, it doesn't look that bad and besides I came all the way from Arizona. What do you think, Ronin?" Lippoli asked.
Ronin snapped out of his thoughts and gave the grounds and mansion another suspicious look.
"I suppose if something goes wrong I could burn, er, fight. I'm pretty good hand to hand," Ronin said, correcting his mistake of referring to his powers.
Lippoli raised and eyebrow and smirked.
"Burn eh? I take it you're a mutant too?" Lippoli asked and Ronin nodded in response. "Ah, well you're in good company so far. Hydrokinesis is my game. I take it you manipulate fire?"
Ronin created a flame in his palm. "Manipulate, create, all that good stuff."
"Well," Lippoli began, "between us I think that we could handle what's in there. Let's go in." And with that Lippoli started the bike and rolled in. Ronin followed suit and followed his new companion in. The gates remained open, which seemed to be a good omen to Lippoli. There were children of all ages playing basketball, reading on benches and talking in little groups. This also reassured Lippoli.
To Ronin though, it seemed all too nice. From his life alone on the streets of the Bronx, he stopped believing in happy endings, peaceful, quiet lives. To him, it was unnerving to see all of the happiness and joy that these children seemed to have. Some looked up to see who had arrived but returned to their business. Some didn't even bother to see who had the motorcycles.
They parked their bikes in front of a large oak door and dismounted. Ronin cracked his knuckles, Lippoli sighed heavily and they looked at one another.
"You sure you want to do this?" Lippoli inquired.
"What happened to 'we could handle what's in there'?" Ronin asked with an edge.
"Fine," Lippoli said, storming up the cement steps and began to pound on the door.
In Lippoli's embarrassment and anger, he didn't hear the door open and was pounding on someone's rock solid abs.
"Can I help you bub?" *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* ^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*
So what do you think? If you hate it, tell me. I don't care. Although, nice reviews get a large cake, 2L Pepsi, and this lovely replica of the leg lamp in a Christmas Story (which ironically was shot in my home state. Bonus brownie points if you can get it right!)
REVIEW Review REVIEW!
I've been writing so far to the lovely music of Linkin Park. But today I think the choice will be Pennywise, that it will.
Special thanks to remnants-2011, firestarter, and stretch.
Shade, you're my bffae but verbal abuse is mean. No cookies or cake for you!
I own everything! Muahahahahahahahahaha! *several other authors, the Pepsi corporation, the writers of Ruroni Kenshin, Stan Lee, the band Pennywise, Linkin Park, and Kebler Co. begin to bang on the door* Well not everything.
As always, R&R! Oh! BTW '' means thought. I forgot that ff.net didn't show italics so the little flashback looked out of place. Sorry bout that. -Tigereyes *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^* *^*^*^*^*^*^*
Ronin had stolen a similar bike to the one the Lippoli snaked from a gas station, a black Yamaha YZF-R1. (A/N: my dream bike, sorry about the drool) The force grew stronger, the closer he got to West Chester. It pulled at his heart and mind. The road was relatively clear for him, save for a few cars he blew up for fun that happened to be on *his* road.
Trees became thicker and to him it seemed a little eerie. He wished to set them all ablaze, but the force told him not to, so he declined his craving for fire. He hadn't stopped or eaten since he left the Bronx. His stomach rumbled in protest to the lack of food, but he ignored it. All that mattered was that force.
His face was healing, but a scar would remain. He did nothing to bandage it, so the scab was repulsive and hard to look at. He cut the engine and coasted up to a wrought iron gate with a beautiful brick fence attached to it. The force pulled hard in his chest and mind then left.
Ronin looked in the bars. A massive mansion greeted him. Red brick similar to the gate covered the whole building capped with a black roof. There were expansive greens and beautiful statues and tall, regal trees. Ronin shook his head, as if waking from a trance. His eyes faded from that erie amber to a warm violet. He ran his stiff hand through his shaggy hair and pondered the force that pulled him from the place he refused to call home.
He was so deep in thought that he did not hear an engine roaring down the road. It wasn't until the engine cut that he looked up to find another rider on a bike similar to the one he himself was on.
"Do you live here?" Ronin inquired to the boy on the bike.
"No, and I assume you don't either," the boy replied.
Ronin had a feeling that he had seen this boy before. Perhaps it was the cross-shaped cut on the boy's cheek and purple eyes that reminded him of himself.
Lippoli was also having a hard time placing the boy that faced him. They looked just like one another, save for their hair.
The silence was heavy and neither could figure out the other. Finally, Lippoli could not endure the silence any longer.
"Name's Lippoli," he said holding his hand out to shake with the other boy.
"Ronin," the other replied clasping hands with him.
A vision hit both of them as soon as their hands touched. It was sketchy and only showed quick images.
An explosion. Fire. Water everywhere. Squealing tires. A woman's scream.
Ronin and Lippoli pulled apart. Ronin shook his head as Lippoli did the same. The gates opened and they stared in warily. It was enticing and beautiful, but that pesky old proverb comes to mind, don't judge a book by its cover. Lippoli took in the sight as Ronin looked at him.
'Why does he seem so familiar? This is absolutely going to bother me until I figure it out.'
"Should we go in? I mean, it doesn't look that bad and besides I came all the way from Arizona. What do you think, Ronin?" Lippoli asked.
Ronin snapped out of his thoughts and gave the grounds and mansion another suspicious look.
"I suppose if something goes wrong I could burn, er, fight. I'm pretty good hand to hand," Ronin said, correcting his mistake of referring to his powers.
Lippoli raised and eyebrow and smirked.
"Burn eh? I take it you're a mutant too?" Lippoli asked and Ronin nodded in response. "Ah, well you're in good company so far. Hydrokinesis is my game. I take it you manipulate fire?"
Ronin created a flame in his palm. "Manipulate, create, all that good stuff."
"Well," Lippoli began, "between us I think that we could handle what's in there. Let's go in." And with that Lippoli started the bike and rolled in. Ronin followed suit and followed his new companion in. The gates remained open, which seemed to be a good omen to Lippoli. There were children of all ages playing basketball, reading on benches and talking in little groups. This also reassured Lippoli.
To Ronin though, it seemed all too nice. From his life alone on the streets of the Bronx, he stopped believing in happy endings, peaceful, quiet lives. To him, it was unnerving to see all of the happiness and joy that these children seemed to have. Some looked up to see who had arrived but returned to their business. Some didn't even bother to see who had the motorcycles.
They parked their bikes in front of a large oak door and dismounted. Ronin cracked his knuckles, Lippoli sighed heavily and they looked at one another.
"You sure you want to do this?" Lippoli inquired.
"What happened to 'we could handle what's in there'?" Ronin asked with an edge.
"Fine," Lippoli said, storming up the cement steps and began to pound on the door.
In Lippoli's embarrassment and anger, he didn't hear the door open and was pounding on someone's rock solid abs.
"Can I help you bub?" *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* ^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*
So what do you think? If you hate it, tell me. I don't care. Although, nice reviews get a large cake, 2L Pepsi, and this lovely replica of the leg lamp in a Christmas Story (which ironically was shot in my home state. Bonus brownie points if you can get it right!)
REVIEW Review REVIEW!