Post by MKULTRA on Aug 8, 2016 2:22:36 GMT -6
Today wasn't turning out to be the best day for anyone so far...
It was a Tuesday afternoon, and it was pouring down rain all throughout the city. The sky was an oppressive mix of black and grey, and there was barely any sunlight to be found shining through the thick storm clouds. The rain itself was piercingly cold to the touch, due entirely to the fact that it was just under 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and there were currently no signs of the rain dissipating any time soon; in fact, most news stations were reporting that the downpour would continue on for the remainder of the day, if not longer. Most people of sound-mind were currently indoors, either at their homes or at their respective jobs, and those that happened to have been on the streets were either rushing to try to get indoors or were taking shelter under nearby structures in order to wait for some minor break in the storm. All-in-all, it was clearly going to be a pretty stormy day, but would otherwise be uneventful.
Until, of course, like a roar of thunder, a boisterous, deep voice rang out above the sounds of rain and spread throughout the city like a ghostly wave, with violently intense feelings of both rage and ferocity being carried along with the sound. And what exactly was this sound, you may be asking? It was simple, really...
"SAIKOROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!"
And yes, this was the Stand cry of First of the Year, the ghostly guardian that belonged to David Mooreson. First of the Year was a close-ranged powerhouse, with fearsomely strong punching power and enough speed to force its opponents into a corner. If speed and power failed, then First of the Year (FotY) could fall back on its ability to alter and manipulate the time perspective of its foes, slowing it down or speeding it up to create openings and instill confusion into the hapless opponent, though most people were still unaware of this ability, save David himself. Still, that didn't really do much in the way of answering why the Stand was crying out in raw anger, now did it?
"What did you just say to me, you little bastard?!"
That was David speaking that time, by the way, and he was pointing at someone very particular at the moment. This "someone" was a pretty small guy, likely no taller than about 4'8'' or maybe even 5'0'', and he was a pretty robust looking character, obviously having never skipped a meal a day in his life, and he was pretty snazzily dressed too, despite the weather conditions. He wore a three-piece, cream suit with matching shoes and a similarly colored fedora as well. The man was of caucasian descent, and he was a cocky looking piece of work too...the man held a grin across his plump, greasy face the whole time David was speaking (yelling) at him.
"You heard me, you filthy little piece of street trash! I said that both you and that sorry excuse for leather should both go back into whatever dumpster you crawled out of, and keep this city a bit cleaner! Really, it doesn't surprise me that even the rain can't wash away your filth!"
Needless to say, David wasn't a happy camper...at all. In fact, he was absolutely livid.
The two had actually bumped into each other on the sidewalk, with the man holding an umbrella as he walked through the rainy weather, and David having to tough it all out as he made his way back to the place he called home: the New York City Scrapyard. The two had accidentally bumped into each other, and this caused the man to lose his umbrella, the object rolling into the nearby street where it was then quickly run over by a passing car...then another...then about ten more, before the flattened rod and plastic floated away on a nearby stream into the sewer opening on the side of the road. Needless to say, the man seemed less than pleased, despite David's genuine apology. One thing eventually led to another, and now here they were...although, something didn't really seem right, in hindsight. The man seemed so bold and confident in the face of David's outburst, despite the latter's clear frustration...there had to be a reason behind that confidence, right?
Well, needless to say, once First of the Year punched a nice, fist-sized hole into the concrete below them, the pavement cracking and shattering at the sheer force of the punch, much of the man's confidence seemed to seep away from his face and was instead replaced with what appeared to be anxiety. That anxiety turned into noticeable fear once First of the Year picked up a nearby parked car and held it angrilly over its head, with David's eyes filled to the brim with rage as he gritted his teeth and seemed ready to crush the poor bastard with it.
And yes, you read that right...First of the Year was holding an entire car over the man's head right now, with the vehicle creaking and squealing as the Stand's fingers dug deeper and deeper into the metal on the car's doors. It was quite a nice car too, a 2004 Honda Accord...which, at the time, meant that it was essentially brand new; yet here it was, being dangled over a man's head as if though it were little more than a mere toy.
David should've taken notice of the fact that the man was clearly able to see First of the Year as well, but he was honestly too pissed off to even take note of this...or care.
"So...you like talkin' big, 's that it? Well alright, Mr. Big Talker...let's see if that mouth of your's can keep you from being crushed, you fat pig!" David spoke with venom in his voice, his Stand opening its mouth with a roar as it prepared to do just as David said...to crush the man with the car! But before FotY could even move its arms forward, the man squeled out in fear and called out--seemingly to himself--with "S-Soul Man!" and, in an instant, had begun to dart from view, running away so quickly down the street that he was literally leaving blurred afterimages of himself behind!
"RAAAAAAAAAGGHH~! Get back here, dammit! I ain't done with you!" the teen screamed, with First of the Year violently throwing the vehicle at the rapidly fading image of the man through the rainy air as it landed on the ground, tumbled through the air, and then came to a sudden stop as it slammed against--and through--a boutique window, terrifying dozens of people who had no idea what had even just transpired. Thankfully no one was hurt or killed...but it was a close call, no doubt about that.
Without even bothering to take a look and see what he had done, David immediately began taking off after the man who had insulted him by foot, sprinting as quickly as he could through the water-drenched streets of New York as he followed after the man, with only one thing on his mind as he did so: payback!
And God help whoever ended up getting in his way...
It was a Tuesday afternoon, and it was pouring down rain all throughout the city. The sky was an oppressive mix of black and grey, and there was barely any sunlight to be found shining through the thick storm clouds. The rain itself was piercingly cold to the touch, due entirely to the fact that it was just under 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and there were currently no signs of the rain dissipating any time soon; in fact, most news stations were reporting that the downpour would continue on for the remainder of the day, if not longer. Most people of sound-mind were currently indoors, either at their homes or at their respective jobs, and those that happened to have been on the streets were either rushing to try to get indoors or were taking shelter under nearby structures in order to wait for some minor break in the storm. All-in-all, it was clearly going to be a pretty stormy day, but would otherwise be uneventful.
Until, of course, like a roar of thunder, a boisterous, deep voice rang out above the sounds of rain and spread throughout the city like a ghostly wave, with violently intense feelings of both rage and ferocity being carried along with the sound. And what exactly was this sound, you may be asking? It was simple, really...
"SAIKOROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!"
And yes, this was the Stand cry of First of the Year, the ghostly guardian that belonged to David Mooreson. First of the Year was a close-ranged powerhouse, with fearsomely strong punching power and enough speed to force its opponents into a corner. If speed and power failed, then First of the Year (FotY) could fall back on its ability to alter and manipulate the time perspective of its foes, slowing it down or speeding it up to create openings and instill confusion into the hapless opponent, though most people were still unaware of this ability, save David himself. Still, that didn't really do much in the way of answering why the Stand was crying out in raw anger, now did it?
"What did you just say to me, you little bastard?!"
That was David speaking that time, by the way, and he was pointing at someone very particular at the moment. This "someone" was a pretty small guy, likely no taller than about 4'8'' or maybe even 5'0'', and he was a pretty robust looking character, obviously having never skipped a meal a day in his life, and he was pretty snazzily dressed too, despite the weather conditions. He wore a three-piece, cream suit with matching shoes and a similarly colored fedora as well. The man was of caucasian descent, and he was a cocky looking piece of work too...the man held a grin across his plump, greasy face the whole time David was speaking (yelling) at him.
"You heard me, you filthy little piece of street trash! I said that both you and that sorry excuse for leather should both go back into whatever dumpster you crawled out of, and keep this city a bit cleaner! Really, it doesn't surprise me that even the rain can't wash away your filth!"
Needless to say, David wasn't a happy camper...at all. In fact, he was absolutely livid.
The two had actually bumped into each other on the sidewalk, with the man holding an umbrella as he walked through the rainy weather, and David having to tough it all out as he made his way back to the place he called home: the New York City Scrapyard. The two had accidentally bumped into each other, and this caused the man to lose his umbrella, the object rolling into the nearby street where it was then quickly run over by a passing car...then another...then about ten more, before the flattened rod and plastic floated away on a nearby stream into the sewer opening on the side of the road. Needless to say, the man seemed less than pleased, despite David's genuine apology. One thing eventually led to another, and now here they were...although, something didn't really seem right, in hindsight. The man seemed so bold and confident in the face of David's outburst, despite the latter's clear frustration...there had to be a reason behind that confidence, right?
Well, needless to say, once First of the Year punched a nice, fist-sized hole into the concrete below them, the pavement cracking and shattering at the sheer force of the punch, much of the man's confidence seemed to seep away from his face and was instead replaced with what appeared to be anxiety. That anxiety turned into noticeable fear once First of the Year picked up a nearby parked car and held it angrilly over its head, with David's eyes filled to the brim with rage as he gritted his teeth and seemed ready to crush the poor bastard with it.
And yes, you read that right...First of the Year was holding an entire car over the man's head right now, with the vehicle creaking and squealing as the Stand's fingers dug deeper and deeper into the metal on the car's doors. It was quite a nice car too, a 2004 Honda Accord...which, at the time, meant that it was essentially brand new; yet here it was, being dangled over a man's head as if though it were little more than a mere toy.
David should've taken notice of the fact that the man was clearly able to see First of the Year as well, but he was honestly too pissed off to even take note of this...or care.
"So...you like talkin' big, 's that it? Well alright, Mr. Big Talker...let's see if that mouth of your's can keep you from being crushed, you fat pig!" David spoke with venom in his voice, his Stand opening its mouth with a roar as it prepared to do just as David said...to crush the man with the car! But before FotY could even move its arms forward, the man squeled out in fear and called out--seemingly to himself--with "S-Soul Man!" and, in an instant, had begun to dart from view, running away so quickly down the street that he was literally leaving blurred afterimages of himself behind!
"RAAAAAAAAAGGHH~! Get back here, dammit! I ain't done with you!" the teen screamed, with First of the Year violently throwing the vehicle at the rapidly fading image of the man through the rainy air as it landed on the ground, tumbled through the air, and then came to a sudden stop as it slammed against--and through--a boutique window, terrifying dozens of people who had no idea what had even just transpired. Thankfully no one was hurt or killed...but it was a close call, no doubt about that.
Without even bothering to take a look and see what he had done, David immediately began taking off after the man who had insulted him by foot, sprinting as quickly as he could through the water-drenched streets of New York as he followed after the man, with only one thing on his mind as he did so: payback!
And God help whoever ended up getting in his way...