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Chapter 1: Requiem For a Dream
New York is bound ta be flooded, the way it's pourin' down out heeya, thought a lone figure, who was walking alone in the dark downpour on the streets of Brooklyn, New York. Thunder, lightning, and the crashing rain revealed his figure, but muted his sound. In his stereo headphones under his hood, an eerie song was being blasting into his ears...a song by Tupac Shakur, but one of death, not of guns. The figure pulled out a yellow piece of paper from his hoodie pocket, held it up to his face under his hat, and he snapped his free hand. A bright red flame popped out of his thumb and made the paper readable. "Looks like this is the place," the figure said as he turned his head to a townhouse that was to the right of him. He tugged his hat back down, burned the piece of paper that was in his hand, and walked up the stoop. He knocked on the door, and waited. Another figure, dressed in a black mask, a similar black Wu-Tang hoodie to the smaller figure, a scythe on his back, sandals, and black cargo pants opened the door, and the two stared at each other for a period of time. The figure, who was the owner of this Elemental Gateway then growled demonically "Who are you?" The younger figure yanked off his hood with his hat still inside and ripped off the black mask that covered the lower half of his face. He was a 16-year old afro-american teenager with 13 years of rage streaming down his eyes. He gritted his teeth and replied back in a less-demonic-but-still-a-little-low voice: "Take a good guess...Father." At that moment, a searing pain entered his being and he felt he was being lifted up. He was then catapulted in the air and landed, hard, in front of the stoop. He strained to open his eyes to see who it was. A non-hooded figure dressed in a red shirt, a red version of his mask, red cargo pants, red hair, and a red katana grunted and turned to face the Father, but the Father beheaded the red assailant with his scythe before the red assailant had a chance to fully turn his head. He then resheathed the scythe onto his back and looked down at his bleeding son. After closing his solid-white eyes and lowering his head in shame and guilt, he turned and the door slammed itself shut.
*GASP!*
*huff puff huff puff...*
"That's the last time I let Jinx pick out a documentary based on Biggie's death to watch at 11:30 PM AND AGAIN at 2:30 AM...
Well, that's the least of my worries. It's the first day of school."
New York is bound ta be flooded, the way it's pourin' down out heeya, thought a lone figure, who was walking alone in the dark downpour on the streets of Brooklyn, New York. Thunder, lightning, and the crashing rain revealed his figure, but muted his sound. In his stereo headphones under his hood, an eerie song was being blasting into his ears...a song by Tupac Shakur, but one of death, not of guns. The figure pulled out a yellow piece of paper from his hoodie pocket, held it up to his face under his hat, and he snapped his free hand. A bright red flame popped out of his thumb and made the paper readable. "Looks like this is the place," the figure said as he turned his head to a townhouse that was to the right of him. He tugged his hat back down, burned the piece of paper that was in his hand, and walked up the stoop. He knocked on the door, and waited. Another figure, dressed in a black mask, a similar black Wu-Tang hoodie to the smaller figure, a scythe on his back, sandals, and black cargo pants opened the door, and the two stared at each other for a period of time. The figure, who was the owner of this Elemental Gateway then growled demonically "Who are you?" The younger figure yanked off his hood with his hat still inside and ripped off the black mask that covered the lower half of his face. He was a 16-year old afro-american teenager with 13 years of rage streaming down his eyes. He gritted his teeth and replied back in a less-demonic-but-still-a-little-low voice: "Take a good guess...Father." At that moment, a searing pain entered his being and he felt he was being lifted up. He was then catapulted in the air and landed, hard, in front of the stoop. He strained to open his eyes to see who it was. A non-hooded figure dressed in a red shirt, a red version of his mask, red cargo pants, red hair, and a red katana grunted and turned to face the Father, but the Father beheaded the red assailant with his scythe before the red assailant had a chance to fully turn his head. He then resheathed the scythe onto his back and looked down at his bleeding son. After closing his solid-white eyes and lowering his head in shame and guilt, he turned and the door slammed itself shut.
*GASP!*
*huff puff huff puff...*
"That's the last time I let Jinx pick out a documentary based on Biggie's death to watch at 11:30 PM AND AGAIN at 2:30 AM...
Well, that's the least of my worries. It's the first day of school."
