"So you're new around here, huh?" The old man said.
"I guess you could say that." Blake responded bluntly, taking a wet towel to clean a blade.
With a snap, the young man positioned the blade back to its original position: right under the gun barrel.
"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" The older man questioned.
"I've lived in LA for quite some time, and so when I turned... Twelve I think... I moved here on my own. My parents didn't care, so I eventually found my way to SP City. Let's just say I think this where I'm going to stay." Blake cooed, checking the sights of his gun
"Hmmm... Alright then..." The old man announced before turning away, shutting the door to Blake's one-person apartment behind him.
With a small grunt, the young man stood up, running a hand through his jet-black hair.
Alright. Let's see how I'm holding up. Blake thought to himself as he opened the window. A gust of evening wind ruffled his clothes, but caused a small smile to appear on his face.
Perching himself on the windowsill, he checked his weapon one last time. Blake took a quick peek at the ground, which was only a mere seven stories below.
Piece of cake. He positioned the gun in his hands, looking down the sights towards the edge of the building across the alley way.
Blake pulled the trigger. Out of the barrel blasted forth a small little grappling hook, propeling itself towards the parallel building. With a sharp thud, it sunk into the cemented wall. Blake tugged on it to check its durability, took one last deep breath, and tipped over the edge.
As Blake fell, the wind tore at his clothes, his shirt coming up slightly to reveal a lightly-tanned abdomen. The ground grew closer and closer, and the grin on his face grew bigger and bigger. He loved the idea of dying, just to put a positive spin on it. The falling young man wanted to reach out and grab the ground, pulling him faster to his demise. Just as he wanted to hold the ground, the cord pulled him back up, snapping his body back towards the sky.
Chord strength good. He thought sadly to himself. Using the momentum of the jerk, he twisted his body to face the wall. As he flew up, Blake looked towards the sky, wanting the same feeling he felt when pummeting, only wanting to hold it.
A glimmer in the sun broke his trance, and he managed to focus again. Passing his weapon, he managed to grab the handle of his gun, pulling him in a tight arc upward. The centrifigul force sent him flying the few extra feet towards the edge of the building, where he lightly landed. Perched on the edge of the building, Blake pressed a secondary button and listened to the reeling noise of his whip returning to the gun.
Second button works. Onto marksmanship. The steel in Blake's hand was still cool in the warm afternoon, but it almost seemed out of place, like it was missing something. With a sigh, the young man turned towards the sun, the blue streak in his hair seeming to jump out against his dark hair. Blake smiled as the sun warmed his face, and managed to look through the brightness to find his usual target practice spot.
Position... Aim... He thought to himself as he quickly raised his gun to look down its sights, eyeing the indiviual holes on the side of the broken-down air conditioning unit. Without thinking twice, he pulled the trigger several times, watching as three more holes made invaded the rusted metal. Smiling, Blake lowered his gun.
Aim? Still got it. One last thing. He held the gun up to eye level, the barrel tilted to the side so that blade was clearly seen. Making sure to keep on finger on a hidden third button, Blake simply threw the gun at the AC unit. A clicking noise detached the barrel and blade away from the handle while the barrel blade itself spun effortlessly in the air. As it continued to fly, the young many pulled back hard, and as if on cue, the barrel flew back towards Blake.
Good pull back. And now for the catch. The blade grew closer to him, and yet he did not move. With a grin he snapped his wrist out, firmly catching the blade in between his fingers. He put the weapon back together and turned to sit on the edge of the building before noticing that his hand was bleeding. Small scarlet drops dripped from his palm and down the ground eight stories below.
"Aw... So close..." Blake sighed to himself, wiping the blood on his jeans to leave a dark stain.
Oh well, there's always next time.