Chapter 2
She made a satisfied sigh as she slipped out the front door, into the bask of the warm sunlight that was eager to wrap itself around her heavenly body. She had just turned 17, but from the way her golden hair cascaded down her body, and how the light seemed to reflect off her crystal blue eyes endlessly and make you feel like you were gazing into paradise itself, you knew she was the kind of woman who would be eternally beautiful. A wry smile twisted her ruby lips, adding a dash of mischief to her innocent young disposition. She didn't lie to her father. She was going to the World Martial Arts Tournament. However, she had just accidentally left out the fact that she'd be going with her new boyfriend. She sighed. She adored Bill more than fish do water, yet he rarely seemed to acknowledge it. Each night she lay in bed to find new tears flowing down her face, longing for him when he should have called like he had promised. Yet, eternally faithful to his handsome face, his other-worldy kisses, she would not abandon hope for true love in him. Looking to the mess of sapphire and clouds that was the sky, suddenly she stopped in bewilderment. Was that...an orange cloud? No sooner had she sighted the anomaly had it zipped out of view.
"Becky?"
Shaking her head and regaining her composure, she began to gingerly tread toward her destination once more.
"BECKY?" Hearing the call this time, she turned her head and raced toward the source. There was Bill, in a smooth blue convertible, a half-sneer on his face as he waited impatiently for her, his sunglasses effectively veling what part of her body he was staring at. She giggled innocently and hopped in the car, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. He didn't seem to notice, and hit the gas.
A cloud of dust ensued, and a pair of lonely eyes pierced the blue convertible from behind it as they sped off into the distance.
He was tall, not extraordinarily for his age, but you couldn't call him short. Sported a head of relatively long, brown, curly hair that didn't come near his eyebrows, looking as if it had never been combed but had never needed to be. His shoulders were broad, though he was slim. His legs were heavily muscled, as was his stomach beneath his navy blue tee shirt, and by his own preference he had maintained rather slim arms that still seemed quite toned. His skin was dark, a genetic heirloom of a culture long lost to the world. Thorn was nearly 18, and the years had weathered his body as it had his mind. A wicked X-shaped scar found it's home on his left arm, and various nicks and scratches littered his face. He wasn't exceptionally handsome, but his tan skin and dark features created an utterly unique look that worked against him, outcasting him more than he already was. His eyes were an abnormal swirl of scarlet and brown, bitter and strained, without any filters to the callous ways of the world he knew all too well.
Those eyes weren't always so mature. Not long had it been since they were wide and eager, and full of hope. But that hope was extinguished early into his high school years. He had strived to fit in, to be like his classmates, to act and be a part of something. But friendship, like family, was a priveledge he was denied of, despite how hard he fought to be everything they were and more. They knew he was different, somehow. He was too strong, too nerdy, too smart, too cool, all at the same time. And there was no home for someone who was good at everything. Alienated, Thorn found himself with not a soul to confide in...and thus, his own began to wane.
A sigh escaped his lips as the couple dissappeared into the urban tumult around him, and he resumed walking again. He knew so much about people, about their selfishness, about the pain and strife the world was built on, but there was something he could never understand. How did people take love so lightly? And was there even such a thing? How could Bill not even acknowledge Becky's kiss, a gesture he doubted he would ever experience. He shook his head. He was just the city's damn pariah. Taking all the shit they were too weak to handle. Someone had to feel the burn. Unfortunately, it was him.
Thorn looked onward, then down to the dirty sidewalk again. No angels here in Satan City, he thought, remembering his dream.
The World Martial Arts Stadium loomed ominously on the horizon.
She made a satisfied sigh as she slipped out the front door, into the bask of the warm sunlight that was eager to wrap itself around her heavenly body. She had just turned 17, but from the way her golden hair cascaded down her body, and how the light seemed to reflect off her crystal blue eyes endlessly and make you feel like you were gazing into paradise itself, you knew she was the kind of woman who would be eternally beautiful. A wry smile twisted her ruby lips, adding a dash of mischief to her innocent young disposition. She didn't lie to her father. She was going to the World Martial Arts Tournament. However, she had just accidentally left out the fact that she'd be going with her new boyfriend. She sighed. She adored Bill more than fish do water, yet he rarely seemed to acknowledge it. Each night she lay in bed to find new tears flowing down her face, longing for him when he should have called like he had promised. Yet, eternally faithful to his handsome face, his other-worldy kisses, she would not abandon hope for true love in him. Looking to the mess of sapphire and clouds that was the sky, suddenly she stopped in bewilderment. Was that...an orange cloud? No sooner had she sighted the anomaly had it zipped out of view.
"Becky?"
Shaking her head and regaining her composure, she began to gingerly tread toward her destination once more.
"BECKY?" Hearing the call this time, she turned her head and raced toward the source. There was Bill, in a smooth blue convertible, a half-sneer on his face as he waited impatiently for her, his sunglasses effectively veling what part of her body he was staring at. She giggled innocently and hopped in the car, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. He didn't seem to notice, and hit the gas.
A cloud of dust ensued, and a pair of lonely eyes pierced the blue convertible from behind it as they sped off into the distance.
He was tall, not extraordinarily for his age, but you couldn't call him short. Sported a head of relatively long, brown, curly hair that didn't come near his eyebrows, looking as if it had never been combed but had never needed to be. His shoulders were broad, though he was slim. His legs were heavily muscled, as was his stomach beneath his navy blue tee shirt, and by his own preference he had maintained rather slim arms that still seemed quite toned. His skin was dark, a genetic heirloom of a culture long lost to the world. Thorn was nearly 18, and the years had weathered his body as it had his mind. A wicked X-shaped scar found it's home on his left arm, and various nicks and scratches littered his face. He wasn't exceptionally handsome, but his tan skin and dark features created an utterly unique look that worked against him, outcasting him more than he already was. His eyes were an abnormal swirl of scarlet and brown, bitter and strained, without any filters to the callous ways of the world he knew all too well.
Those eyes weren't always so mature. Not long had it been since they were wide and eager, and full of hope. But that hope was extinguished early into his high school years. He had strived to fit in, to be like his classmates, to act and be a part of something. But friendship, like family, was a priveledge he was denied of, despite how hard he fought to be everything they were and more. They knew he was different, somehow. He was too strong, too nerdy, too smart, too cool, all at the same time. And there was no home for someone who was good at everything. Alienated, Thorn found himself with not a soul to confide in...and thus, his own began to wane.
A sigh escaped his lips as the couple dissappeared into the urban tumult around him, and he resumed walking again. He knew so much about people, about their selfishness, about the pain and strife the world was built on, but there was something he could never understand. How did people take love so lightly? And was there even such a thing? How could Bill not even acknowledge Becky's kiss, a gesture he doubted he would ever experience. He shook his head. He was just the city's damn pariah. Taking all the shit they were too weak to handle. Someone had to feel the burn. Unfortunately, it was him.
Thorn looked onward, then down to the dirty sidewalk again. No angels here in Satan City, he thought, remembering his dream.
The World Martial Arts Stadium loomed ominously on the horizon.