Who: Tate (Rubber Man) and OPEN. What: Beating up some poor guy in a parking lot on a whim? When: Night. Where: A parking lot downtown. Warnings: Violence!
The little girl was already running, taking off down a cracked sidewalk with a white ribbon bellowing out behind her.
Tate was in a place where anybody could see him at any moment. Maybe somebody was looking right now, too scared to intervene, or not caring enough to intervene, or maybe too intrigued to join the scene.
Red didn't show against black latex, but rather, made it shine a little bit more in the dim lights of the small parking lot. When his fist collided with the scruffy face of the man he had cornered, blood flew from the nose, and something cracked beneath his knuckles like glass. The man wasn't screaming. He was groaning and whimpering and trying to say something that the man in the rubber suit wouldn't listen to.
He was saying "please stop it" and "leave me alone" and "I'm sorry so so so sorry". The Rubber Man only heard static where the voice was, and he hit again, catching the spray of blood with his shining black latex.
A whirlwind brought him here. A slap in the dark against the cheek of a child who cried out. Tate didn't know their story. He didn't know why she had been slapped and it was too late to matter.
For a few seconds that seemed to go on forever, the little girl had watched him fall upon her father (Her brother? Uncle? Stranger?). Her big eyes had gone wide and dark and maybe she was glad, or maybe she was frightened and blaming herself. Her feelings, whatever they were, told her to turn and leave, to run as fast as she could. She didn't yell as she ran. She just ran.
On his knees now, blood running down his face, the man didn't look up at the rubber suit, but the man in the rubber suit looked down at him, his eyes black, his face hidden and inhuman, just a mask. Nothing else.
Somewhere, somebody was yelling, screaming "What the fuck? and "What do you think you're doing?"