AlazneChan7

Scout runs. Running is what he always does; what he was born to do. Running to places, running from them, running for the sheer feel of the wind in his hair. Running on the vast, flat expanses of the desert, running and climbing and jumping the crowded streets and lawless alleyways of his native Boston. The air is wet here, however, full of fog and mist, and the ground is slick beneath his feet – muddy, mostly, with the occasional patch of grass, and where rock and sand and concrete would have made a firm, comforting pat every time his feet hit the ground here it only splashes and slips and threatens to disappear from beneath him the m

  It was a complete accident what you saw. A death. A scene. And a man.   Rounding the corner in the midst of a night in London, you were faced with an extremely unlikely scene. An unreal scene. An otherworldly scene. There, over a body of a freshly-deceased woman stood a man.   No, that's not even a proper description. This man was obviously no ordinary man. The first thing that caught you when looking at the man was the neon green against a sea of red. His eyes were the most peculiar color of green hidden behind a pair of red glasses. His long hair fell almost the ground, pure red all the way to the...heels...? Yes, he was