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[center][b][color=9e0b0f]Location:[/color] Bus Stop[/b][/center][@wxps350]

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[b]Bus Stop[/b]
[color=9e0b0f]Rio de Janeiro, Brazil[/color]


A catastrophe was happening in Rio. The streets were filled with the howling sirens of police and people were clustering, talking about a possible terrorist attack. It was the best distraction for a young boy. One that was hardly noticed walking through the streets in nothing but a hospital gown, and beneath his gown was his slightly tattered American flag boxer shorts. Brown, unkempt hair and tired grey eyes, the boy padded toward a bus stop where a lone man was seated on a bench. Suddenly, there was a thunderous boom in the distance that Little Gideon felt vibrate through the soles of his feet.

The boy paused and stared down at his toes, wiggling them slightly before he turned to gaze back first in the direction of the hospital, and then where he believed the arena was.

[color=9e0b0f][b][i]I gotta get out of here[/i][/b][/color], Little Gideon thought. The longer he stayed, the more drama seemed to appear. The ache in his stomach reminded him of his lingering hunger. The hospital had provided him with dinner: plantains, rice, goat with gravy, steamed cabbage and a roll. It should have filled a boy of his size up easily—if he had been an actual child. Little Gideon approached the bus stop and the closer he walked, the more details he was able to make out of the man seated there. The child stopped about two normal arms lengths away from Hank and stared at him openly—not even discreet in what would usually be deemed bad manners. Little Gideon had first regarded the massive cleaverblade at the man’s back and then the frying pan, and hook (and if he had a shank of meat attached to it at this time or not. I will assume no for this post). The combination of objects were logically tossed about Little Gideon’s brain like a math problem until he came to a logical conclusion—one that made his grey eyes swell with curious excitement.

[color=9e0b0f][b]“Mister, are you a cook?”[/b][/color] Little Gideon asked.

The strange kid stepped closer to the man, breaching the personal space to…[i]sniff[/i] him. It had only taken two sniffs for Little Gideon to place the scent to some odd meat smell. He leaned back away from the man and told him—what he might have already known: [color=9e0b0f][b]“You smell like meat! Do you have any on you?”[/b][/color]