[center][h2][i][b]C[/b]hapter 1: [b]A[/b]rrival in [b]P[/b]aris[/i][/h2][/center][center][h1]~[/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/c574c3d1-731f-4eee-bb06-412d93a16e91.png[/img][/center][center][h3][i][b]S[/b]omewhere in [b]C[/b]entral [b]P[/b]aris | [b]A[/b]pril 14, 2012 (07:58 [b]AM[/b])[/i][/h3][/center]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKnVaDwUg5s][sub]♫ Cowboy Bebop OST - Space Lion[/sub][/url]

	`Rose... I'm here now...` a young man thought to himself as he walked down the streets of Paris.

	It had been a few hours since he woke up from a solid night of sleep after what was a... [i]disorientating[/i] previous evening, for lack of a better way to describe it. His flight from JFK Airport had taken roughly eight hours, and he found himself too anxious to really sleep during the trip. This was not due to being particularly frightened, even if it was his first time on a plane, but rather a result of feeling uneasy about the imminent future approaching. Something amazing could be right around the corner but he was also taking a massive risk coming here, which meant that he found himself feeling both excited [i]and[/i] uncertain all at the same time. By the time he had gotten off his flight and booked a hotel, he was out like a light shortly afterwards. It was probably a good thing he had eaten prior to getting on the plane, or he likely would have been pretty damn hungry once he woke up. He seriously felt too messed up to even think about food when he got out of CDG Airport's customs, especially considering Paris was overwhelming - even if It was certainly [i]beautiful[/i] too - at night-time.

	After waking up, he had felt that usual rumbling in his gut that he got in the morning -- the beast that he called a stomach was still giving him grief, even if he was not [i]ridiculously[/i] hungry. As he looked at another building and his silvery-blue eyes opened up a little wider in awe, he took another bite from the sandwich he was holding in his left hand -- grateful to find out that a few places had already been opening at the time he woke up, which was admittedly fairly early. He had eaten one of the sandwiches at the café - just to settle his stomach a little, since it could be a pain in the neck at times - and was enjoying a second one now as he walked around. At the present time he was mostly just taking a look around the sights -- not everyday that a guy like him got the chance to wander around a gorgeous city like this, after all. He was carrying a black duffel bag over his right shoulder, and had an expression on his face that looked like someone who had never travelled to another country before -- he really [i]was[/i] new to all of this.

	Walking passed another café that had the same nifty patio umbrellas decorating the outdoor dining area, the young man found himself drifting between a variety of distinctly Parisian buildings -- some of them more simple and comfortable like that café, while others were larger and almost [i]breathtaking[/i]. There was something about the light Gothic architecture that made him wish a certain someone was there looking at it all with him; even if he [i]always[/i] wished that person was beside him. That person probably would have appreciated all this more than he did, since even though he had a tendency to be a bit of a dreamer he was also someone who tended to be a bit detached from the material world -- the one who he wished was here with him got more excited about pretty visuals than he did. Still, he was rather impressed, and the fact that it was quite early in the morning meant that things were also rather peaceful, which helped to make things comfortable. The way this place lacked the usual... [i]chaos[/i] of his home was probably the reason he could appreciate his surroundings this much. Normally, he would be too busy looking cynically at all the [i]lowlifes[/i] in his neighbourhood to really stop and take into consideration how interesting the [i]buildings[/i] were.

	The young man looked like a simple Caucasian teenager, in all honesty. He had a fairly small frame and was on the short side, and his attractive facial features could easily have made someone think he was female unless they payed closer attention to the details. Light dirty blonde hair gently blew through the morning air as the expression on his light skinned face changed occasionally in response to his surroundings. His fashion sense was the sort of thing one might expect from a downtown kid, with his lower body clothing consisting of a pair of very dark brown cargo pants that are quite baggy, and a pair of very dark brown boots. A black belt with a gold buckle was worn around his waist. His upper body clothing consisted of three layers -- a red jacket on top, a black hoodie in the middle, and a white tan zip-up shirt underneath that had red trim up the centre. The impression one probably got was that he had owned these clothes for quite a while, given how they were a bit faded out.

	Today was a [i]very[/i] important moment in his life -- a chance to have his deepest wish come true, and set things in his small little box of a world right again. The letter sent to him - received on the first day of the current year - from this 'Lucifer Van Bonaparte' guy seemed too good to be true, in all honesty; however, there was no way it was an invitation he could refuse given what he wanted more than anything. Included in the letter was everything needed in order to reach the man's estate, including a passport - something which the young man had never acquired - and some money (enough to enjoy the sights, to put it into perspective), as well as a map of Paris and even a manual for how to speak the language on a basic enough level to navigate the countryside without problems. There were also instructions about meeting at a certain location outside the airport at a specific time, where those who would prefer to be picked up and escorted to the estate could have such an opportunity; however, this was not obligatory, and they could make their own way there if they arrived late or wanted to for their own reasons. A phone number was also included if any problems were encountered, though attempts to call this number prior to arriving in Paris would have been in vain -- resulting in a dead line.

	"Hé, petit truc! Lâchez le sac!" a man called out to the young man in a rowdy tone, shortly after he had stepped into an alleyway.

	"Eh...?" the young man said as he turned around slightly to look at the ruffian, the expression on the young man's face clearly indicating that he had no idea what this guy was saying, and he took another bite of the sandwich as he thought about simply shrugging and ignoring the man as he continued on his way. [i]Something[/i] about one of the words the man had used had him a bit... [i]annoyed[/i] though, but he was unsure if he got it right. He noticed the fellow actually had a couple of buddies with him, yet still did not show any sort of indication that he was intimidated. The three men had no noteworthy visual characteristics that would distinguish them from any other typical thugs -- they looked like a trio of [i]boozers[/i], to be perfectly blunt.

	"Tch, putain de tourists..." the man scoffed, an irritated expression on his face, and then he started speaking in English, "Hey, shortie! Drop the bag!" he continued.

	"... 'shawty'?" the young man replied, his eyes narrowing slightly with an expression that sort of said 'oh, you did [i]not[/i] just say that', one of his eyebrows raising slightly. Under normal circumstances, he would have just ignored this idiot and turned away to keep walking, but he had to go and say [i]that[/i]? "... an' if I say 'no', asshole?" the young man continued, his accent clearly indicating he was from Brooklyn -- the way he spoke even sounded like a Mafioso, and his voice was actually surprisingly masculine for such a 'pretty boy'.

	The moment the young man spoke, all three of the men seemingly had their jaws drop at how blatantly sassy this kid was. They understood that the word he used at the end was meant to be an insult as well. While it was mostly the initial man who seemed shocked by the response, the other two were looking pretty agitated as well. They had actually made it a habit of theirs to steal from tourists whenever they had a chance, figuring they could take advantage of the naïve foreigners. This young man technically seemed like the [i]perfect[/i] target, given how his petite form and general appearance had almost tricked them into thinking he might be a girl.

	"Coup son cul, les gars!" the man said in a raised voice at the other two, speaking as though he was giving orders to lackeys. The man was grinning slightly after issuing the command, looking awfully happy with himself. He had thought about giving more bravado and talking down at the young man some more to try and intimidate him, but he was too lazy to bother translating anymore and frankly this pipsqueak was easy prey anyway.

	"Aw, [i]man[/i]..." the young man said, more sounding disappointed than scared, taking a rather large bite of his sandwich in order to finish it in one go, chewing for a few moments and then giving a big gulp, "All that tawk an' yer sickin' ya [i]girlfriends[/i] at me...?" he continued with a smirk crossing his face, dropping the black duffel bag a moment afterwards because he knew what was coming, "Ahrite, [i]laydies[/i]! Come get some!" he said. He could smell a brawl from a mile away and knew when people were too stupid - or too drunk... or both - to listen to reason.

	"Allez vous faire foutre!" one of the two other men - the one who was closest to the young man - said as both of them rushed the kid. The confident look on the young man's face never disappeared and he simply waited for them, no real change in his relaxed posture at all despite the two men charging forward being noticeably taller than him.

	The first punch was thrown, the man's arm having been pulled back beforehand, but by the time the fist had crossed where the young man's face should have been he had already moved, casually drifting his bodyweight to one side slightly to avoid the blow. Honestly, that had been plenty enough of an opening for him to strike back, but he almost seemed to be having fun with this and did not attack yet. The larger man seemed surprised that he had been avoided, but after that brief pause of shock the next punch - this time a hook - came from the other fist, but the young man simply ducked slightly to let the fist fly over him before raising up again, only shifting down for an instant.

	Grunting in irritation, the man immediately followed with another hook from the first fist, but that was when the young man retaliated -- with his hand positioned with an open palm, he raised the hand and guarded the punch with the back of it so quickly that the man never even really saw what had knocked his momentum off, and the young man instantly spun his body around at a full circle and used his other hand to deliver a backhand blow straight into the man's face, almost breaking his nose and causing blood to come out of it as the man fell to his knees and groaned, trying to get his senses back and work out if he needed to go to a hospital or not.

	While the other man was shocked at what the kid had been capable of, he figured he was off guard after that attack and attempted to flank him as he rushed in and threw his fist at him, but the young man simply took advantage of the other man's larger bodyweight by sidestepping slightly and grabbing his arm as the fist came in order to toss him over, actually causing him to fall onto the first guy. The force had actually stunned both of them badly enough that they currently were unable to do much. Standing up straight again, the young man casually looked at the guy who had sicked them on him.

	"Feel like showin' yer bawls yet pal?" the young man said, smirking.

	"Petite merde...!" the man cursed, slowly pulling out a knife, which caused the young man's eyebrow to raise slightly again.

	The young man was planning to say something along the lines of how the guy was a coward for pulling out of a knife on an unarmed kid, especially after sending his girlfriends to get their arses kicked first, but the man charged at the kid instantly, stabbing the knife towards him. The sound of metal clashing was instantly heard, and before the man could even work out what had happened the knife in his hand had been knocked out of his grasp and hit the pavement next to him. Before he could even react to the situation, a dagger was thrust at him and had stopped only an inch away from his throat -- the young man could easily have killed him if he had stopped any later. Alongside the dagger in the kid's left hand which was now threatening to end the ruffian's life, another dagger was also in his right hand and had been responsible for disarming his opponent.

	"So, tell me..." the young man said slowly, his facial expression jovial but the look in his eyes dead serious, "What were ya plannin' do with my shit [i]after[/i] ya killed me? I don't even 'ave much money on me, y'know." he continued, finding it pathetic how quickly this fool was ready to take a life over something like money, "... How 'bout ya run back to ya booze now, m'kay? I'd [i]hate[/i] ta hafta hurt ya..." he said, the whole aura coming off of him being surprisingly mellow and laid-back for someone who almost seemed to have bloodlust. The tone in his voice almost sounded like he was more or less saying he did not want to waste his time picking on those weaker than him.

	By this point, one of the other thugs - the one who had been thrown - was slowly getting his bearings back, but he had no intention of messing with this kid any further, especially when his 'boss' could easily have gotten his throat cut clean open if his lackeys had made one wrong move. He took a moment to help his friend get up, wondering if he needed to take the guy to a hospital for his nose, and then they started to tail it out of there, their 'boss' immediately following suit.

	"Petite maniaque!" the man who had been tossed over yelled as they were running away.

	"Ey! The name's not 'shawty' either, dipshit! Ya can call me Leonard Christian-[i]Walker[/i], an' [i]don't[/i] ya forget it, ahrite?!" the young man called out at the morons, sheathing his daggers back into the belt around his waist in one fast motion.

	Shrugging slightly, Leonard opened up the black duffel bag and pulled out another sandwich, smirking slightly as he took a bite. After chewing for a little while, just enjoying the scenery, he swallowed and took a deep breath, "Some people, ey Rose...?" he said out loud, though not inherently raising his voice -- he was not planning to let those idiots ruin his morning. For just a moment, he touched the golden locket around his neck, as if he wanted to make sure it was safe.