[center][b]Oct. 14, 2016 || Fuller Park || 6:31am[/b][/center]

At that moment, the King couldn't tell who was stupider: The vig on the street playing chicken with boomboomexplosive-man, or themselves for running towards the explosion. 

Toy King stumbled as the cacophonous [b][i]BOOM[/i][/b] shook the alleyway, a flare of orange and red illuminating the darkened streets. The smell of gunpowder and smoke seemed to choke the air as the fire raged on, unperturbed by the pouring rain. Somewhere a car went off, followed by the howls of several dogs and perhaps some yelling. It was hard to tell when thunder and bombs were going off at once. Toy King steadied themself against the alley wall, staring the ruined street. A body lay amongst the debris, but it was hard to say who's it was or if it even was alive. And judging by how things went, it probably wasn't.

They shook their head and turned away, a bitter taste in their mouth. Death was a regular part of this job. It was full of danger with a hollow reward. Cops, criminals, other vigilantes; there was even those damn Iconclausts and their trail of blood. From day one and even before that, the danger of being a vigilante was clear. Still, the distance between parading around totally fine to a battered, broken body nine seconds later was surreal and uncomprehending.

A flash of lightning and a blur of shadow shook them from their thoughts. Toy King quickly reached for their pipes, the movements quick and fluid from years of practice. Their muscles were tense, their stance ready, as their dark eyes swept across the dark alleyway. There was something there. What, they didn't know. Something creeping at the corner of their eye, lurking in the shadows waiting to--

[i]"That took some[/i] balls[i]!"[/i]

[i]Holy--[/i] 

Toy King whirled around, pipes flailing wildly as the voice pierced the air from behind them. With a grunt of surprise, they slipped on the wet cement and, with the grace of a drunk flamingo trying to hook up with an elephant, slammed into the cold ground below. It took a moment (and a bit of embarrassed coughing) before they stood back up and dusted off their soaked hoodie. 

The shadow forgotten, the King rushed out of the alleyway. A guy, probably another vig, was making his way to the now moving figure on the ground. A soft, amused [i]Tch[/i] slipped out of their mouth. So idiot was tougher than they looked. Good to know. Toy King sheathed their pipes and walked out of the alleyway, promptly signing the ever so eloquent words: '[i]What the hell?[/i]'