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[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/146547750937296896/327661485767524362/gankona.png[/img]
[b][color=f9ad81]Interactions: [@Zelosse][@Duoya][@Mercurial][@Blu][@Kuma][@liferusher][/color][/b]
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	The blurred image of Lorken grew larger in Gankona's inoperable, hazy sight. The hulking shoulders and chest of the devil heaved up and down as Gank was unceremoniously beaten, the boss's meaty hooks wailing away at the tired and unprepared goat boy. Raising his weary and scratched arms to try vainly to block some of Lorken's offensives, Gank found he was too slow, and a reaching presence brought a blanket of black and purples over Gankona's eyes.

	When he came back to his senses, the goat boy found he had already lost. He shivered, his body sprawled on the ground like a ruffled rug of black fur. Gank stayed as a carpet for a moment, coughing up crimsoned blood and spittle in an arc onto the already decorated floor. Slowly, he brought himself up, an elbow hauling the child's lop-sided body to look up at Lorken.

	A smile curled up into the boss's features, a grin of pride in creation, as if something wholesome had been created from this terrible encounter. Gankona could only meet the smile with his own smirk of accomplishment, blood trailing his lips like someone's makeshift attempt at applying lip gloss. Lorken had told him in a single bout of physicality what he was; Gank was a street-rat, with cripplingly ambitious aspirations of infamy. Only more challenge would change that. But, for now, the goat-boy would have to go and rest his mouth.

[center][color=f9ad81][i]"Sure, Boss."[/i][/color][/center]
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	Suddenly, the soreness set in. It was like laying a huge puzzle-piece in an already painful puzzle, thus completing the picture of a needlessly damaged Gankona. He shivered for the third time, wracks of pain assaulting his joints and stressed muscles. With a strained cracking pervading his voice, Gank cut Karada from his practiced explanation. [color=f9ad81][i]"Alright, cool, not moving. Great quirk. Oh, shit. Ok, I need to do something or I'm gonna die. I swear. Holy... ahg..."[/i][/color], Gankona moaned, his mind darting through ideas of what to do to keep his person from deteriorating among the cramps and pains that continually slammed into his limbs and torso. Standing up with strained effort, a vague image of an Italian dish pulled from a trash-can coarsed through Gank's detrailed rain-of-thought. [color=f9ad81][i]"Alright, I'm going to raid the cafeteria, if you punching-dummies want to eat, come with- shit, that hurt, no stretching... Come with me..."[/i][/color]
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	Gankona drove his exasperated leg into the set of cafeteria doors, unintentionally breaking off the mundane lock and sending the green metal doors slinging to their respective sides. The goat-boy had now made both a dent in the company truck, and mess-hall door. What flashy entries he was capable of.

	The cafeteria was really just a large, house-hold kitchen; nothing like Gank had seen at the homeless center. Marble counter-tops and wooden pantries laid inset in almost every corner, packed with food to feed the hungry likes of around a dozen kids a year. Gank trudged himself ahead of the other students and towards a particularly large cabinet. The kitchen had a stove, microwave, and a oven of course; but, more surprisingly, it also hosted the likes of a miniature fryer and panini press. Either Lorken liked his dishes always varied, or he had some weird company with equipment feeding the kids. Digging with reckless abandon into the drawers and cabinets as the other kids filed in, another memory darted itself through Gank's boggled mind as he picked up a small bag of flour.

	[color=f9ad81][i]"I saw some kids do this in a hole-in-the-wall diner once."[/i][/color], Gankona commented as he started to fiddle with the fryer, eventually settling on hitting the thing to turn it on. Residues of past oils sizzled at the bottom of the fryer, the shallow puddle of forgotten cooking liquid bubbling intently under the goat-boy. Dumping pinches of flour into the machine, Gank watched wearily as the substance slowly crystallized into a tan crust. The warmth of the fryer and its attractive crackling kept the goat-boy awake, his eyelids sloping but not closing entirely as he waited for his disgusting snack to form. If it weren't for the appeal of frying flour, he'd be out cold.

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"Someone, anyone, dump something in the fryer after me or I'm going to faint, alright? I'm trusting you guys."[/i][/color][/center]