He was taken aback by the sound of something heavy crashing against glass. He immediately raised the hockey stick in front of him, getting into a defensive position, carefully looking around trying to locate the source of the noise; he took a few steps forward towards the street, turning his face to the right just in time to see a television literally fly out of a broken window of a top floor apartment.
Casey reflected for a moment on what to do, rediscovering himself at a crossroads; to check, thus arriving late for his appointment with April, or ignore what happened and continue on his way. He was momentarily tempted by that second choice, but his vigilante instinct was further triggered by seeing a very expensive-looking chair meet the same fate as the previous piece of furniture. So he entered the building, cautiously avoiding being seen by the neighbors on the lower floors who had rushed to see what was happening, and reached the apartment from which there were distinct noises of further objects most likely thrown against the walls of the rooms.
Without reflecting on the fact that he was about to trespass on private property and that perhaps it would have been better to call the police, Casey kicked the door down, hockey stick straight in front of him ready to face any danger. The last thing he expected to see was a boy, a few years older than him and with highlighter green hair, in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the remains of what must once have been bottles and a small table; upon his sudden entry onto the scene he had frozen in an upright position, his left arm in front of his chest slightly bent as if to shield himself from the splinters and his right, in which hand he held a dark glass bottle, brought backwards, ready to load the hit; that pose surely indicated that Jones had caught him in the act of giving vent to what appeared to be a violent fit of rage.
The young man's eyes, until then fixed in front of him, turned with immense slowness on the figure of Casey who, motionless at the door, at that eye contact could not hold back a shiver of fear. Those eyes with pupils now almost non-existent since they had narrowed and with a strange, almost bloody colour, emanated a sinister light... not to mention almost homicidal...
However, it was a matter of moments: after less than two seconds, the boy's body relaxed, the bottle was delicately placed on the floor and his expression became neutral and calm; then he raised an eyebrow as he looked the intruder up and down, and at that moment Jones berated himself for not wearing his vigilante mask kept in his backpack.
"May I help you, kid?", after a few seconds of silence spent observing each other, it was the boy with the fluorescent green hair who broke the silence.
Casey was almost taken by surprise, but was quick to regain control. "You are makin' quite the chaos here, big guy. Neighbors are gettin' worried".
The other's eyes swept the teenager up and down. "You don't look like a cop, kid. Care to explain why did you break in my apartment before I call the authorities?".
Oh sh..!
"Hey now, there's no need to make a fuss like that! I was just worried about all the chaos you're doin. Ya'lmost got me with that chair, ya know?", Casey justified himself, lowering his hands for a moment as if to indicate that he has no bad intentions; he's had problems with cops before, he didn't want to risk another punishment from his mother's side...
His words seemed to have some effect on the young man, as if they had finally brought him back to reality; he looked around, as if he was seeing for the first time the mess around him, the defensive attitude relaxing more by the second. He evidently was realizing that he had made quite a mess; he ran a hand through his highlighter-colored hair, taking a couple of deep breaths with his eyes closed, before turning back to Jones, who was still staring at him from the door.
"Did they call the police already?" he asked after a few more seconds.
"Um... I don't.. think so?".
"Good. Wait here". Before he could reply anything, the major was already out of the apartment, intent on going down the stairs.
Now, Casey could have listened to his brain and walked away, avoided getting further involved with that strange fellow and returned to April who would surely have scolded him for being late; he instead he stood there, vigilante instinct telling him that this situation could lead to something more.
And what's more, he felt he had already seen that boy somewhere ...