And finally as promised, Stormy's story. This one has content of a more...questionable nature. Mature themes and such. Just a warning, incase you're on mais of the sensitive side.
Stormy’s brother meant everything to her. He was her role model; he was the one who inspired her most. She looked up to the boy and followed him every which way. At first glance this was just the most precious thing, but the people of the town knew better. The boy was an awful role model, horrendous in fact. He roamed the streets at night, slinging guns, and waving knives in people’s faces. And if the child wanted to learn how to become addicted to cigarettes…well her brother was an expert. He was a very heavy smoker and a habitual liar. He rode with the Thorn Boys, a notoriously violent rua gang known for holding the crown in the drug dealing industry. But how was such a young girl to understand any of that? With parents killed at the spite of a rival gang, he was all the girl had left. She watched him pull the trigger. A muscular man of about 6 feet to the pavement. “And then ya just take what he’s’ got ‘n run like Hell.” The boy instructed her. She was his apprentice. Whenever she found the ability to do so, surely she would carry on her brother’s legacy if the time came. He reached into the man’s pocket (not forgetting to take a drag of the his cigarette) and dug out a wad of cash. “This.” He waved the money about “is what keeps us off the street. What makes the world spin. We need to keep it rollin’ in.” He explained as the two sprinted off. “This, is how we make a livin’! This is how we’ll rule the realms!”
“But you killed him.” The little girl pointed out, a small crack forming in her trust.
“’S okay, no one’s gonna miss ‘im.” Her brother assured her. “Ya do what ya need ta do ta get by. And screw any sorry soul who gets in the way.” The boy laughed as he threw his hands in the air in some sort of grand gesture. “This is how the Thorn Boys get rich.”
She nodded.
A great number of years later the same girl found herself outside in the pouring rain about to witness her role model, her beloved brother in the fight of his life. He told her to keep to the shadows of the alley and take a drag of the cigarette as it would ease the anxiety. She did as instructed only to cough, gag, and toss the cigarette to the ground. How her brother could stand those things was beyond her. A week’s worth of time was put into planning the all about brawl between the Thorn Boys and the Hell Hounds and her brother hopped it would pay off. Knives, guns, bats, fists alone, anything went in this rua war. She stayed hidden just watching as her idol drove his faca into the chest of a younger man. She wanted to be just like him—so cool, so tough…so brave. It happened in a flash. A round of bullets fired off; ricocheting every which way. Moments later erupted the Brilhante Victoria woops and hollers from the Hell Hounds. After looting what they wished the Hell Hounds cleared and Stormy emerged. She stumbled over the bodies. Blood mixed with rain water pooled around her brother. “It’s your turn now.” He whispered. “You know what to…” a clap of thunder silenced his dying words.
She would do it, she’d live up to his heavy expectations.
The woman found herself outside nuvem Tower. Not sure at all how she got there or how this would ever impress her brother. She found herself in a fairly dark hallway, a crowd just parting ways. Only two remained; a tall, slim woman with blue-white hair and cold, stern eyes and a shorter woman with hair of a much darker hue. The taller looked in her direction. “I’ve heard much about your brother and his…affairs.” She spoke. “How would you like to carry on his name?”
Stormy would finally lead the life she had longed for.
Stormy’s brother meant everything to her. He was her role model; he was the one who inspired her most. She looked up to the boy and followed him every which way. At first glance this was just the most precious thing, but the people of the town knew better. The boy was an awful role model, horrendous in fact. He roamed the streets at night, slinging guns, and waving knives in people’s faces. And if the child wanted to learn how to become addicted to cigarettes…well her brother was an expert. He was a very heavy smoker and a habitual liar. He rode with the Thorn Boys, a notoriously violent rua gang known for holding the crown in the drug dealing industry. But how was such a young girl to understand any of that? With parents killed at the spite of a rival gang, he was all the girl had left. She watched him pull the trigger. A muscular man of about 6 feet to the pavement. “And then ya just take what he’s’ got ‘n run like Hell.” The boy instructed her. She was his apprentice. Whenever she found the ability to do so, surely she would carry on her brother’s legacy if the time came. He reached into the man’s pocket (not forgetting to take a drag of the his cigarette) and dug out a wad of cash. “This.” He waved the money about “is what keeps us off the street. What makes the world spin. We need to keep it rollin’ in.” He explained as the two sprinted off. “This, is how we make a livin’! This is how we’ll rule the realms!”
“But you killed him.” The little girl pointed out, a small crack forming in her trust.
“’S okay, no one’s gonna miss ‘im.” Her brother assured her. “Ya do what ya need ta do ta get by. And screw any sorry soul who gets in the way.” The boy laughed as he threw his hands in the air in some sort of grand gesture. “This is how the Thorn Boys get rich.”
She nodded.
A great number of years later the same girl found herself outside in the pouring rain about to witness her role model, her beloved brother in the fight of his life. He told her to keep to the shadows of the alley and take a drag of the cigarette as it would ease the anxiety. She did as instructed only to cough, gag, and toss the cigarette to the ground. How her brother could stand those things was beyond her. A week’s worth of time was put into planning the all about brawl between the Thorn Boys and the Hell Hounds and her brother hopped it would pay off. Knives, guns, bats, fists alone, anything went in this rua war. She stayed hidden just watching as her idol drove his faca into the chest of a younger man. She wanted to be just like him—so cool, so tough…so brave. It happened in a flash. A round of bullets fired off; ricocheting every which way. Moments later erupted the Brilhante Victoria woops and hollers from the Hell Hounds. After looting what they wished the Hell Hounds cleared and Stormy emerged. She stumbled over the bodies. Blood mixed with rain water pooled around her brother. “It’s your turn now.” He whispered. “You know what to…” a clap of thunder silenced his dying words.
She would do it, she’d live up to his heavy expectations.
The woman found herself outside nuvem Tower. Not sure at all how she got there or how this would ever impress her brother. She found herself in a fairly dark hallway, a crowd just parting ways. Only two remained; a tall, slim woman with blue-white hair and cold, stern eyes and a shorter woman with hair of a much darker hue. The taller looked in her direction. “I’ve heard much about your brother and his…affairs.” She spoke. “How would you like to carry on his name?”
Stormy would finally lead the life she had longed for.
