InsaneJournal

Reizo pursed his lips and dabbed gingerly at them with a rolled up strip of blood-smattered cloth he’d finished pulling off of the bottom of his shirt. His lip was busted, and his knuckles were torn from having hit so many people in the mouth, but beyond that and a few bruises he was no worse for wear. He sighed and leaned back heavily against the chain link fence the box he was sitting on was positioned against, and surveyed the scene he’d just created. Several other boys were all laying on the ground, most unconscious, but a few were groaning and holding various parts of their beaten bodies. Looking almost unimpressed-- either by the paltry numbers or the lack of real injuries he’d managed to inflict-- he fished a bent cigarette out of his pocket with a bloody hand and tucked it between his lips, lit it, and tipped his head back to stare up at the sky.

He knew the others, the cowards, were a ways off, surveying him from a distance. Would they bother attacking him now that their numbers were lessened? Did they have some sort of ace fighter like he always saw in the movies, just waiting to show up at the end and beat him to a pulp? He decided it didn’t much matter as he stood up, grabbed his school jacket and moseyed off. Every encounter seemed to be getting more vicious and he didn’t feel like waiting around for more morons with bats to show up. Pretty soon they’d be showing up with knives.

He turned a corner, ignoring the sound of rapid footfalls on cement behind him. They stopped a distance away and he knew they were just gathering up their beaten members to properly tuck their tails between their legs and speed off. Something of a smile tugged at his lips as he heard the footfalls again, slower this time and accompanied by a few groans.


It almost amused him. Almost.