Post by Tony on Mar 2, 2011 2:45:58 GMT -5
New york. The Big Apple. A cluster of artificial light smiled upon by a giant frenchwoman in a toga. In any other place it would seem silly, but not here. Millions of people lived and died on these streets; a city older than the nation that protects it. A nation it helped build.
A nation I killed and died for, thought Tony. It had been half a year since he was discharged from his military service, but, as far as society was concerned, he was just another bit of street trash. He could care less, he destroyed all the official papers they gave him when they told him to fuck off; gradually losing everything else on the way to New York from Los Angeles. Being homeless extended the trip considerably, Tony just recently making it into the city.
New York was a city of contradictions: you could be in the middle of a bustling crowd, make a wrong turn, and you'd be blindsided by solitude. Normally, Tony would enjoy the more solitary parts of the City, but he knew better. Ever since the night Tony returned stateside back in Los Angeles, he's been followed. Whatever those things were that he cremated six months ago weren't the only ones. They were everywhere and, for some reason, Tony was like cat nip to them.
He stopped trying to rationalize what the hell they were a while ago, and just tried to keep to himself, which proved difficult due to the fact that they would appear whenever he was alone, usually with fangs bared. He has managed to stay alive so far by the skin of his teeth; in some instances thanks to just pure dumb luck. Oddly enough, Tony has yet to be attacked while in New York, the place with the most of whatever the hell those things are freely walking the streets as soon as the sun falls from the sky.
Tony was propped up against a building in Times Square, seeking sanctuary in the public. He recognized them as they passed by, and they noticed him, eying him cautiously as they kept onwards to their destinations, sometimes flashing a provoking smile. Tony kept shifting uncomfortably as the evening continued, more and more of those things vomited out by the surrounding buildings until it felt like they were stealing the very air from his lungs. It felt as if he were a lamb thrown into a lion's den. Fortunately, these lions preferred secrecy, and he was safest out in plain sight.
Or so he thought.
A nation I killed and died for, thought Tony. It had been half a year since he was discharged from his military service, but, as far as society was concerned, he was just another bit of street trash. He could care less, he destroyed all the official papers they gave him when they told him to fuck off; gradually losing everything else on the way to New York from Los Angeles. Being homeless extended the trip considerably, Tony just recently making it into the city.
New York was a city of contradictions: you could be in the middle of a bustling crowd, make a wrong turn, and you'd be blindsided by solitude. Normally, Tony would enjoy the more solitary parts of the City, but he knew better. Ever since the night Tony returned stateside back in Los Angeles, he's been followed. Whatever those things were that he cremated six months ago weren't the only ones. They were everywhere and, for some reason, Tony was like cat nip to them.
He stopped trying to rationalize what the hell they were a while ago, and just tried to keep to himself, which proved difficult due to the fact that they would appear whenever he was alone, usually with fangs bared. He has managed to stay alive so far by the skin of his teeth; in some instances thanks to just pure dumb luck. Oddly enough, Tony has yet to be attacked while in New York, the place with the most of whatever the hell those things are freely walking the streets as soon as the sun falls from the sky.
Tony was propped up against a building in Times Square, seeking sanctuary in the public. He recognized them as they passed by, and they noticed him, eying him cautiously as they kept onwards to their destinations, sometimes flashing a provoking smile. Tony kept shifting uncomfortably as the evening continued, more and more of those things vomited out by the surrounding buildings until it felt like they were stealing the very air from his lungs. It felt as if he were a lamb thrown into a lion's den. Fortunately, these lions preferred secrecy, and he was safest out in plain sight.
Or so he thought.