Okay, so, chapter 2 is here after a long thought-process. To be honest, I just came up with an idea, so don't be surprised if this story seems like something out of the brain of Michael Bay. So, with all that said, here comes chap.2.

P.S.

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Cropsy was sure he was going to kill that overgrown retard wearing some dumbass rag over his face was knocked down and Cropsy had his shears on him. But then he just had to kick him in the groin, and Cropsy was knocked into a patch of bushes.

The large man promptly strided into the street, put his helmet back on, and then walked over and slammed what looked like a pitchfork into Cropsy's torso.

Cropsy didn't think it was fair. How could he hurt Cropsy yet this man just wouldn't stay down? In Cropsy's eyes, the fight needed to be fair only if this man got killed and Cropsy didn't get hurt at all.

Once the pitchfork was removed and the man believed he was dead, Cropsy opened his eyes and uprooted a mailbox before breaking it on the man's neck. With a stomach-churning and satisfying SNAP, the man fell to the ground. He squirmed for a few more seconds before he suddenly ended motionless.

Cropsy heaved a sigh of relief, and he dragged the man's body to a gutter right below the curb. He slid his body into the sewer entrance, and he actually smirked once he heard that satisfying SPLASH. Cropsy had not made a noise from his mouth ever since he had been burned. And with his victim finally disposed of in such a manner as to be sure no one would know, Crospy limped onward through the street.

Cropsy continued for a good while before stopping to rest in front of the park. Taking a seat on the bench, he unfurled a newspaper left on the bench. Deciding to relax here for the night, he opened the newspaper and read an article about several gruesome murders at a special youth camp, and one of the surviving campers rambling about how a man named Marz had killed them. It was pure lunacy to be sure, Cropsy thought, and he knew that the youth was simply driven insane by seeing all his pretty little friends get chopped up. That was how life went, he thought.

-POV change-

The Prowler woke to find himself floating in a a dark and disgusting stream of...well, something. The place was walled in and ominous, and then it him-that ugly bastard had thrown him into a sewer. Well this is just great, he thought.

Then, he heard it. It was quite faint, but it grew louder as he moved forward. Rats. He hated rats. He hated them more than those youths who had started the Graduation Dances again, more than that burnt asshole of a psycho who threw him in here, and he was now surrounded by them. His life just sucked.

He wished they would just pass and go, leaving him alone with himself, but they didn't. And the worst part was, they did not even come out toward him. They just stayed and kept scurrying around, scratching and squealing. It was like they were ding it just to play with his sanity, and they were laughing at him.

He slowly started trudging through the mess of waste and tangled pipes, trying to block out the noise of the rats, but they stayed. They did not want to stop, cause they liked bullying him, and they enjoyed watching him squirm as he walked, and laughed as he looked behind his shoulder to see nothing.

He couldn't take it. He pulled out his sawn-off and fired, and hit a pipe. The water gushed out and sprayed him, and that just seemed to make the rats more gleeful.

He decided to shoot the wall this time, and it was torn to shreds as he fired. The squealing of the rats got quieter, but he did not take any chances. He blew apart another pipe that shot at the opposite wall, and several rats actually got scattered by the waterworks. He actually laughed as this happened, and he fired several times more at that wall, and he giggled as the rats got blown up and splattered over him.

Soon, they learned and they stopped scurrying.

He moved onward, and the light got brighter as it peered through his cloth hood. He liked to think it was because he was going to heaven because of the good things he had had to do in life, but he was not certain. However, if that burnt little bastard was waiting at the end of the light, he wouldn't be very happy.

He lifted his cloth, and saw that the light was glaring through a little gate in the sewer. He looked behind him once more, and with that, he turned back around and opened the gate and walked out.

He found himself in the middle of nowhere, and on a dusty road. There was nothing but grass as far as the eye could see, and The Prowler decided it was better than having to deal with that burnt man again. Perhaps he could just settle here, but what good would that be? The middle of nowhere was obviously boring as hell, and his nearest neighbor could be a mile or more away.

Maybe he could find someone and ask for directions to somewhere more civilized, but once again, that could take a good while.

In the end, he just decided to walk onward and see what would happen. It was no fun, but it was better than dealing with that stupid burnt man.

The Prowler walked on for what appeared to be two straight miles before he found a sign saying, in giant black letters, "Convenience Store-5 miles straight ahead", at the top. He had to keep walking, yes, but he had at least found somewhere where he could take a rest. He would find out he would need it.

Okay, so not much in the way of action, but it expands on character depth, and we finally get to see The Prowler here as a person and not just some hulking psycho. So, anyways, R&R and I hope you enjoyed it.