Bad Reputation (Feather - Nikita)
May 7, 2014 18:35:34 GMT -5
Post by Yvo Josephus Kolen on May 7, 2014 18:35:34 GMT -5
Very few patches of grass remained in the over-crowded slums, yet nature somehow found a way to bless the area in its own way. Today, that special way was by torrential downpours throughout Nada Citadel, causing the broken and battered to clamber off of the cobbled streets and into their ramshackle homes and damp cardboard boxes. The neon signs reflected off of the small puddles that scattered about as gusts of wind mercilessly whipped through the buildings. Every day brought a new surprise for Yvo, though his most treasured forecast was cold rain. Today, the fates had delivered, and Yvo found himself soaked, yet happy.
He held up the side of his jacket, fumbling with a lighter in order to light the cigarette in his mouth. The bright orange light of the flame danced over the relatively dark surroundings before it abruptly went out, vanquished by a stray gust. Yvo had succeeded in lighting his cigarette, however, and he reveled in the puffs of nicotine. It had been quite a while since he was able to get his fix, in fact, he had only a sparing amount of opiate left, tucked safely in the back pocket of his jeans. Yvo was not nearly ready to inject, however. He'd have to find a proper time and place. He never liked to get jacked in the rain, it often prevented him from enjoying it.
He held onto the cigarette between his lips for dear life as he placed his lighter back into the inside pockets of his small jacket, withdrawing a small CD case. He settled the ear buds into his ears, slowly increasing the volume all the way up, before he placed the obtrusive CD player into a larger inside pocket. He set off on the sidewalk, walking in intentionally long strides, following the steady beat of the music. It leaked out a bit into the air about him, raspy whispers of angsty singers and loud guitar solos. His jacket had no hood, at least, not anymore. Yvo casually allowed his hair to bask in the rain, which did not seem to let up over the few minutes.
Yvo turned down an alleyway, letting out a puff of smoke as he did. Right now he felt like a total bad ass, though he looked a bit awkward and goofy to those watching. He was completely deaf, and partially blind, to his surroundings, as he jammed out with the music. He didn't seem to notice a rock going through a window, nor did he hear the loud crash. Nor did he seem to notice the three youths, all dressed in similar colors, subsequently making their way through the window. He did notice, however, a rather comfortable spot to sit. He slide down against the wall, resting on a black trash bag near the now-broken window.
Yvo did seem to notice, however, the few gunshots that hung in the air in the moments following. He crawled to his fours, quickly making his way towards the dull green dumpster. He was no stranger to the insides of these things, as well as to the dangers of dumpster diving. He quickly threw up the black roofing, before throwing himself in feet-first. He made an audible crunching noise as he landed inside of it, quickly reaching up to the slick handles of the dumpster's top and slamming them down over his head. He could hear the quiet patter of the rain against the dumpster, then two voices shouting from the window as they hopped out, making their way down the alley. One of the youths did not return from the window.
This didn't seem to perturb Yvo at all. In fact, he wasn't entirely aware of the number of gangbangers that had entered the house. He was only vaguely aware of the number that came out, and it didn't seem to trouble him any. He did suspect, however, that the police may be there soon. He held a hand over the handle of the dumpster, attempting to keep it firmly shut, to prevent any possible investigators from opening it. Yet, he was physically weakened and noticeably pale. Track marks from dirty needles ran up his visible wrists and up into his sleeve. Whoever opened the dumpster door might just take Yvo with it.
He held up the side of his jacket, fumbling with a lighter in order to light the cigarette in his mouth. The bright orange light of the flame danced over the relatively dark surroundings before it abruptly went out, vanquished by a stray gust. Yvo had succeeded in lighting his cigarette, however, and he reveled in the puffs of nicotine. It had been quite a while since he was able to get his fix, in fact, he had only a sparing amount of opiate left, tucked safely in the back pocket of his jeans. Yvo was not nearly ready to inject, however. He'd have to find a proper time and place. He never liked to get jacked in the rain, it often prevented him from enjoying it.
He held onto the cigarette between his lips for dear life as he placed his lighter back into the inside pockets of his small jacket, withdrawing a small CD case. He settled the ear buds into his ears, slowly increasing the volume all the way up, before he placed the obtrusive CD player into a larger inside pocket. He set off on the sidewalk, walking in intentionally long strides, following the steady beat of the music. It leaked out a bit into the air about him, raspy whispers of angsty singers and loud guitar solos. His jacket had no hood, at least, not anymore. Yvo casually allowed his hair to bask in the rain, which did not seem to let up over the few minutes.
Yvo turned down an alleyway, letting out a puff of smoke as he did. Right now he felt like a total bad ass, though he looked a bit awkward and goofy to those watching. He was completely deaf, and partially blind, to his surroundings, as he jammed out with the music. He didn't seem to notice a rock going through a window, nor did he hear the loud crash. Nor did he seem to notice the three youths, all dressed in similar colors, subsequently making their way through the window. He did notice, however, a rather comfortable spot to sit. He slide down against the wall, resting on a black trash bag near the now-broken window.
Yvo did seem to notice, however, the few gunshots that hung in the air in the moments following. He crawled to his fours, quickly making his way towards the dull green dumpster. He was no stranger to the insides of these things, as well as to the dangers of dumpster diving. He quickly threw up the black roofing, before throwing himself in feet-first. He made an audible crunching noise as he landed inside of it, quickly reaching up to the slick handles of the dumpster's top and slamming them down over his head. He could hear the quiet patter of the rain against the dumpster, then two voices shouting from the window as they hopped out, making their way down the alley. One of the youths did not return from the window.
This didn't seem to perturb Yvo at all. In fact, he wasn't entirely aware of the number of gangbangers that had entered the house. He was only vaguely aware of the number that came out, and it didn't seem to trouble him any. He did suspect, however, that the police may be there soon. He held a hand over the handle of the dumpster, attempting to keep it firmly shut, to prevent any possible investigators from opening it. Yet, he was physically weakened and noticeably pale. Track marks from dirty needles ran up his visible wrists and up into his sleeve. Whoever opened the dumpster door might just take Yvo with it.