Post by MISERA on Nov 12, 2015 7:51:55 GMT
MISERA
the new retro.
He was never the type to showboat or show a lot of emotion for that matter, hell, some people would say he’s too serious for his own good, but what can you do? He was introverted, to say the least, but having someone at his side that is not Hayden but still shared the same mindset on things baffled him. He had just finished training with his new protégé Adam Hollis…
A loud and seemingly poorly screened thud, a rather old doorlock, and the sound of a key ring filled the ever so quiet back alley. The atmosphere had a smell of fumes and trash bags lingering in the air, with a trace of some pretty strong booze. The decayed industrial area, seemingly living in black and grey, with stains of graffiti on the walls, erupted as the large metallic door shut. Seemingly, the only bright spot in this place was his brown leather jacket that shimmered with every flicker the street light strugglingly casted out. His trademark white v-neck was barely visible, but it seemed to be rather baggy after those hours he’s spent in there. Even his skin seemed appropriate to this rundown of a place with all the tattoos he had gathered over the years.
With only the dollar sign on his knuckle visible and his head facing the lighter, causing his medium length hair to cover his eyes, and the sound of the small wheel echoing repeatedly until it flared and lit, Damian had everything that made him feel safe and sound in this shit hole of a city. Running his fingers through his hair, revealing even more tattoos under and right over his eyes, and with a faint “Uh” he released the poison from his lungs, almost like a metaphor for this past day. Sluggish and with his eyes wide shut, he started to cautiously bang the back of his head against the sorry excuse of a safe door, skipping through the thoughts of a day that finally found its end. He didn’t seem to care for the two stumbling silhouettes that had approached him at this point. One of them, the one with about five drinks overmuch, had to press himself up of the wall next to Damian, so he was able to balance himself. The other one, maybe ten drinks overmuch, slightly bumped into the idle Damian, most likely caused by the sudden movement of his drinking buddy.
“Hey, sorry, bro” he said giggly with his eyes looking everywhere but into Damian’s. As drunk and unreasonable as he was, it was an apology simple enough, which was all he, in his mind, had to say. It’s not like he seriously harmed the unfamiliar face in front of him, right? Even if he did, at this stage, he wouldn’t have cared anyway. Emotionless and with another drag of his cigarette, Damian acknowledged the young man. Sharp eyes and a slight nod gazed over his face. He was taken out of his world of thought, and just how abrupt he was taken out of there, he released the smoke into his opposite’s face. Pinching hard and even coughing once, the mellow teen gazed back at him, or at least tried. Almost tauntingly and with a stronger voice than before he returned “I said I’m – “
“It’s fine” Damian interrupted his counterpart with a dry and firm tone and with yet again not a single emotion running over his face. He might have said it, but everything that was going through his head didn't have anything to do with “fine”. Time seemed to stand still as Damian indifferently stared a hole into the drunks face. Pressing himself away from the wall, the slightly bigger and more sober one of the two linked his arm around his comrade’s shoulder and unwittingly pressed him off with his own weight, like a guardian angel trying to protect the weak.
“Drop i’, ma’” almost inarticulately, the more boisterous of the two weighed in. The added pressure to his already loosen balance made the bristly one of two almost drop to one knee, but he was surprisingly quick to save himself. Albeit the whole scenario being rather funny from Damian’s point of view, there was still no signs of change to his facial expression. It was obvious enough for both of the teens at this point that they weren’t the type of men they tried to portray earlier, trying to hook up those two girls at the bar. Not that it worked anyway. With a quick turn, the two mental train wrecks left the scene, acting like it was the most abnormal thing for Damian to react the way he did.
His eyes followed the two, like a vulture stalking his prey, as they started to wobbly make their way to the next bar or something. He remembered the tone, something he learned to hate over the years. A tone full of intimidation, yet with just about no self-reliance behind it. He has heard that oh so often, but then again he wasn’t the type to interact and fall for it. Unless, well, unless it was one of those days. The anger inside of him is visible as he gritted his teeth with a close mouth, causing his cheek bones to stand out with every crunch. Seemingly, the only way to release that anger was to run his closed fist, carpus first, into the wall behind him, so he did just that. One of the two individuals from earlier heard the dull impact and turned around, only to move up a gear with his friend clingy holding onto his arm.
After he had lost sight of the two, he hoisted the back up that’s been sitting next to him and swung it over his shoulder, placed his cigarette loosely in his mouth and grabbed another key ring from out of his pocket. He opened the door of his pitch black Porsche Cayenne…
