The light from outside gleams past the concealing lines of some blinds. A man is laid out on a bed beside the window. Before he could rest any further the alarm goes off, the numbers 12:00 blinks repeatedly.


Remaining on the bed the wind blows letting the blinds sway, thus letting light shine over his eyes. He doesn't seem to appreciate this, his brow lowers conveying the opposite of gentle along with his lips snarling.

Sitting up in bed his neck crackles loudly from the sudden jerk from left to right. His feet hit the floor and reaches the bathroom. His hand extends out for a reach of his toothbrush but the hand misses it by an inch. Groggy, hungover, and exhausted he pauses before letting his hand have another go at getting a grip on the brush. He was hurting rough.

The night prior to his wake, was something he hazily could remember. The only clues to the recent past were all over his body. He confirmed this even more by lifting his black T-Shirt to get a good eye on said clues. His ribs had seen better days, along with his chest. Either slashes or black and blue. There was a splotch of dark purple around his right eye. An hour later and they'd all be gone.

Someone or some people either tried battering him or killing him. Or a combination of said factors depending on a concept of a time line. Was he tailed back here? All this validated his choice to frown whilst looking into the mirror. A ringing sound was made interrupting his current trail of thoughts.

A mixture of toothpaste and saliva is spat into the sink and suddenly the bathroom becomes vacant. He answers the phone in a new room. Why was his phone in the kitchen? Drunken mishaps were never in his book of fond moments.

"Who's this?" Cole asked unnerved.

"Cole it's me remember?" The voice greeted.

Who the hell was this, and how'd they get his number?

"No." Cole answered before hanging up.

Cole finished his morning routine and left. He wore only a black shirt, black cargo pants, and black shoes. His complexion was concerning, a pale slate with black veins all over. On his back with a strap over his torso was a menacing all black scythe that could manipulate electricity to its user's liking.

Cole leaped off his building to the next, his body launched itself to another as he descended his palm caught the ledge and he yanked himself upward by the time he landed beyond said ledge a gathering of birds departed from all around him.

From here he could see a perfect view of the central plaza. The edge is now stood on, with him gazing onward, he takes in the view for some more reminding himself that he's the one who owns it. Before rushing to the side hopping onto the next building.

"Sup Zeke." Cole greeted.

"What the hell happened to your face brother?" Zeke questioned.

"No idea." Cole said sitting to the side.

""You look like you got punched by something big and nasty, not as nasty as how you look right now though." Zeke said before chuckling.

Zeke held his breath as a now deadly glare was being delivered to him by Cole, a signature of his. A sign, or rather omen of what to come if words were not carefully picked.

"I can't believe you fought twenty monsters and forty militia men all by yourself. It was like watching a perfectionist." Zeke complimented soon after.

"What the hell you were with me last night?" Cole said more infuriated than surprised.

"Oh you were serious when you said you had no idea?" Zeke inquired. "Ah well you were at some bar, some chick gave you her number, and then the militia came looking for you, then those monsters appeared." Zeke pointed out.

Cole was beginning to doubt his friendship with Zeke. What was more important was his embark on a minacious power to gun battle with those militia, and if he were to sloppily come home he might've been trailed.

"We're leaving this crappy town, had enough of it." Cole said heading back home.

"Ah fuck I did it again!" Zeke said to himself.

Reaching his house, he sensed a presence as he could sense conduits, sources of electricity, and other people with a thought. Originally he assumed it was more of an overthought to uses his senses a second ago but now he was on a full alert.

"Whoa it's just me, I guess my voice sounds different on the phone." The familiar voice sounded in an alarmed manner. The fear in her eyes apparent.

Cole had just crept in with his scythe, who had planned for a slink kill.

"What the fuck?... Kuo?" Cole said sheathing his scythe.

"Uh yeah, Lucy Kuo, does that ring a bell? We hadn't seen each other in over 5 years. We had a great time last night just talking." Lucy mentioned.

He didn't bother saying a word, instead he just stood there with an unapologetically anointed face on.

"I missed that gravelly voice of yours, you said you lived here and when shit hit the fan last night we both agreed to meet up the next day here. I asked if you needed help but you were wearing your big boy boots that day and wanted all the fun yourself." Lucy finished.

"You need to leave." Cole states

Cole was now at the door and he gestured for her to leave.

Lucy's face turned from bright to cloudy. A look of hurt, disappointment, and confusion washed over her as she left. None of which had an effect on Cole.

After some time of rebuking Zeke over the phone for vague way of speaking, Cole went limp and landed onto the couch. He sighed to himself. He was now in the mood for a deep cat nap, he had wanted to go take out his daily frustrations on the unsuspecting civilians of this town through a type of massacre, but now he had no drive of energy to.

His legs plop themselves on the couch and he lies down on the other end. Cole had no emotional use for anyone, not Zeke, not God, No one. Yesterday must've been a fluke in his boiling hatred for the world and those in it.