New York Minute [Crow/Closed]

[Katsuro Hachi]

[nospaces]

YOU ARE NO

0359 WORDS ■ CROW ■ I STARTED IT

EXCEPTION

Slowly he began to come to.[break][break]

The first sensation he noticed was just pain. Not agony; a dull but ultimately less-than-appreciated pain down his back, rippling and muscular. His shoulders felt like someone had pinned them in vices, his spine as if it had been wrung out like a cloth. He ran a hand along the back of his head instinctively. Bumps, ginger and sore patches of skin. A tender awareness of it all. Katsuro winced.[break][break]

As he shuffled upwards, his vision cleared; but slowly. The last thing he remembered was a series of blurs; wingbeats and overestimation, and a particularly sharp jab in the back of his midriff. The Hive had taken over. That much was obvious. But... this looked pretty far from Triton.[break][break]

It was a diner; red leather and coffee. No Burgermon chefs, no Palmon waiters. Humans; humans behind the counter, humans on the stools, humans in the booths, reading papers, eating their three-dollar breakfasts, and going about their days. He looked over his shoulders, at first, out towards the street. Cars jammed up in traffic, skyscrapers everywhere; CNN on a TV suspended high in the corner. New York, New York...[break][break]

It was about then that Katsuro noticed the man sitting over from him, waiting with an aloof, idle sense about him. He bore a bright pink feathered overcoat upon his shoulders, thick and hefty -- too much so for the height of July -- and a pair of tinted white sunglasses upon the bridge of his nose. He had a smile that could steal women's hearts, or end civilizations. The student couldn't tell which it was more likely to be.[break][break]

There was a faint sense of recognition about him. From Triton, maybe? Katsuro sat up and rubbed the top of his head with an exhausted sigh, levelling his gaze at the man with a careful scrutiny about it. Whether he had met him before or otherwise was roughly fifth or sixth in the order of most pressing questions, currently. The first: What the hell was going on?[break][break]

"...why am I here?"

deltra of gangnam style

[googlefont=Raleway][break][break]

[CROW]

sweet religion Help me, satan! help me, satan! i've been here so long for the love of god + Katsuro Hachi + condition: perfect! + passive - - - + passive - - - + attack - - -

"He's coming to." A woman spoke, her voice thick with a French accent. She sat across from the half-conscious boy and beside the contender, as if she were his guest, his escort. By all rights, she appeared human, bright blue eyes, a thin body wrapped in an elegant red dress - no wings, lasers, talons, or knives. It were almost surreal. "Punctual, too." The man's voice was just as ethereal, calm, as if nothing had happened and he were a simple businessman enjoying his lunch-break. A waiter came to the table, a kid perhaps not any older than nineteen, and likely one who had no knowledge of the Digital World. A simple life, one some could appreciate. With him, a simple breakfast, eggs, coffee, bacon - for the both of them. For the lady, something more extravagant, a full Irish skillet, adorned with a tall glass of sparkling orange juice. "Yes, two waters, bring extra napkins, as well." He truly hated the way the eggs and bacon got his hands greasy - even when he tried so hard to avoid making direct contact with them. "I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I told you that everything that happened to you was a simple dream, and you're on vacation in New York." Hummingbird dug into her meal first, as if she hadn't eaten in quite some time. This was one thing she actually enjoyed about the human world - the food. It was certainly better than meat grown in the ground. "Would you?" He smiled, taking a sip from his coffee. No creamer, no sugar, it was just right as it were.

© seadra of gs