:: bang [x] bang Jun 24, 2010 17:36:42 GMT -5
Post by Heine Rammsteiner on Jun 24, 2010 17:36:42 GMT -5
For a while now, Heine Rammsteiner had been traveling the road of the Rukongai - the name in which he only knew now from the poor who were kind enough to speak to him. Admittedly, anyone that surrounded him in this new "place" appeared to be nothing like the others he knew back where he was from - a post apocalyptic world where fighting was a must, and crime was always near. Crime had been something you had to ignore then. Even now, where he was, fighting seemed common, however it was either with fists or swords. He had thought to have heard the swords be called something like a "Zanpakuto", a word in which Heine had a difficult time pronouncing with a German tongue.
Where he was from, of course you could use fists. However, guns were most common.
A glare touched his orange lenses as he shoved his hands further into his pockets, lifting his head to gaze up at the sun just barely shown beneath thick, gray clouds. Soon they glided back over the bright ball of light, leaving shadows creeping around every corner of the small homes and one to follow just behind him, belonging to him.
Slightly tired ruby irises glanced around lazily, and he sighed as he watched a woman and her child run hand-in-hand back through the trees, their own wide eyes staring at him until they were sure he was out of sight. He supposed the fact that he was albino was one thing, but it still remained he was walking around in shiny leather exterior, thick steel-toed boots and a chain dangling behind him which just so happened to be attached to the base in which you held the gun that was in his pocket. However, that gun nor the other could be seen in his pockets with his clothing covering them - this leaving him unknowing of why they were so terrified.
Perhaps it's what he gets for being different."Hey, white-hair."
Typical speech for someone he had never met to call him. Something he was used to, but still wished he didn't have the "pleasure" of hearing.
Running a tongue over dry lips to wet them, he soon slowed to a stop and glanced over his shoulder. There he saw four men standing in typical "robes"- he had no idea what japanese clothing was called - one grinning, one smirking, and the other two with a sort of angry pinch to their faces.
Sighing, he gradually turned around. As usual he stood with a sort of leaning posture, one that meant he was completely comfortable with standing in front of these four obviously angry and eager men.
"We've seen some pretty weird ones 'round here lately but never seen one like you," The grinning man spoke once more, flipping a finger towards Heine as if to point him out to himself. However, Heine could swear the man was trying to literally flip him off with that finger.
Normally, Heine never spoke unless spoken to. However, now didn't seem to count to him. He didn't feel like speaking back to someone that had no importance to him once-so-ever. But he also knew he couldn't just turn his back to these four. So sighing, he lifting one hand from his front pocket, slid it secretly underneath the leather and into one of his back pockets.
"Well, seems like he don't wanna talk. Maybe he's lost that too," A mocking comment, obviously aimed towards the loss of pigment in all of him. A snicker came from the different man who had spoke this time, and then from the rest of them.
Instead of replying with a biting remark, Heine instead allowed a smirk to cross over his lips, unable to help himself. He found it funny how all four of them held short swords, as if cutting him up with honestly do something. Although, he couldn't blame them for actually trying him. Really, though, they should just all mind their business.
"Hey," One of the men who had been smirking spoke up, nudging the grinning man whom was still laughing at the other man's comment. "I think we should just go 'head and kill 'im. He's smirkin' at us."
A laugh. And then he replied."All right."
For a moment, Heine remained with feet firmly on the ground, hand tightly holding the grip of his white Mauser C96 pistol, the one with the chain attached to the base of the grip. Just as the first man, the one who had both grinned and distracted him from walking, through the sword at him, Heine lifted his gun with quick speed. A sound of steel against metal echoed, continuing to bounce through the air as Heine quickly slid the gun across the metallic edge of the sword and pointed it towards the man's forehead.
Immediately, the three men behind him stopped in their tracks, and the one standing before him's eye's widened."Wha-What the hell is tha-that?"
Heine's smirk was waning, "Something I'm a loss without." A derisive reply to their earlier laughs of his loss of pigment. It was something Heine couldn't go without saying, obviously.
A moment later, Heine pulled the trigger. The instant he had, a loud gunshot echoed through the air, bouncing off every object in its way. Heine could practically smell the fear of the others watching through cracks within the wood of the trees. Blood splattered to the ground and pooled around the man's head as he fell backwards to the ground just seconds after the bullet had entered his head.
Immediately the other men ran, screaming incoherent words that would never go together out of fear of being shot by his weapon as well.
Fear seemed to always be the winning point for everything, didn't it?