I’m a rockstar, I’m a dealer“Seventy-two…”
I’m a servant, I’m a leader“Seventy-three…”
I’m a saviour, I’m a sinner, I’m a killer“Seventy-four…”
I’ll be anything you want me to be-The ominous sound of a click echoed through the empty basement room, the once heavy bass and singer's dead-pan tone stopping abruptly, leaving only the grunting sound coming from a male as he continued his seventy-fifth vertical sit up. Confused as to what happened to his music, the shirtless male relaxed his body down, allowing the metal clasps around his ankles to hold his full weight. After repositioning, he arched his back to take a look, putting his body in an awkward looking bended shape. The culprit was soon recognized as his golden-colored eyes met with the dark green orbs of his cousin, her thin arms crossed over her chest and giving him a chastising look.
“Anything I want you to be?" she asked, the toe of her heel tapping on the hard, concrete floor. "How about a maid, Deon? You’ve let my place go to shit.” she finished, looking up at the male with a dissatisfied expression.
Deon's hanging, vertical position forced the sweat from his legs to trickle down his flexed torso onto his neck and down to the very top of his head where it continued to drip off of the point of his nose as he stared the female down. With an agitated sigh, he bent his torso up, practically folding his body in half as his fingers nimbly worked the metal restraints that had been clasped over his bare ankles, thus releasing the hold on him. With a practiced twist of his body - a sort of a back-flip - Deon fell to the floor deftly onto the balls of his feet, bending at the knees to soften the fall. He slowly straightened his back up, vertebrae by vertebrae until he was standing at his full five feet, eleven inches and ran his hand through the small mess of sweaty hair he had left on his head.
The sides of his head were shaved, leaving just a thick strip on the top of his head where a patch of hair grew. Sure he could have put it into a mohawk if he wanted to, but that just wasn’t his style. He preferred the messy mop look. Hell, even if he wanted to try a different hairstyle, it was practically impossible for him to grow any hair on the left side of his head. A thick scar reaching from the back of his head wrapped around to the front, cutting just into the top of his eyebrow, the scar thick enough that it was clear medical treatment had not been issued at the time of the injury. It was a scar that probably should have had medical treatment but instead healed on it's own making it look very raw despite the incident happening over a year ago.
Approaching his cousin with his chest heaving for breath as the sweat continued to drip down his body, he reached over her shoulder, keeping his eyes on her and pushed the play button on his
virtual music player, The Ozzy Osbourne song picking right up where it had left off just moments ago before the female had so rudely turned it off. A bright red light emitted from the music player upon activation, displaying a 3-d rendition of female dancer, supposedly nude, pole dancing to the beat of the music just above the player. His cousin glanced down, unable to keep her attention off the display of flashing red color and shook her head.
“Classy.”
“I told you not to interrupt me when I’m training, Katie.” Deon's voice said gruffly, a calloused tone in his natural voice sounding like he had been gargling rocks his whole life.
“Don’t be a twat Deon, I let you live here remember?” Kate sighed. She hated talking like that. Strong language was never her strong suit but she had lived with Deon long enough to know by now it was the only way to talk to him and hold his interest. Sometimes. “Look, I only came down here to remind you that I’m going to be gone this evening. I have a meeting I need to go to about project T-95.3." She explained, her arms unfolding so that she could start using them when she continued to talk, her agitated voice towards her cousin turning into excitement for the topic at hand. "I didn't actually program this one, we were invited by the Science Board as a classroom demonstration to sit in. See, there might have been some malfunction. So we might have to do a total recall-“
“Katie.” Deon interrupted her, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care.”
This had Kate clamping her mouth back shut, her arms hanging awkwardly in the air for a moment before she let them fall back down to her sides, her shoulders slouching just a bit - deflated.
“Just remember to not piss off A.D.A.M. again. I’m not about to leave this meeting just because you’ve been stuck with a neo-tranque dart again.”
Deon scoffed, picking up a dirty white rag from the floor and used it to wipe the sweat from his neck.
“You know, it might actually be cute if your little artificial security system was real, you gave it a name for Gods sake! But the way you talk about it sometimes makes me wonder if you’re into that weird-ass cyber robot porn fetish shit.” Deon countered but then waved Kate off before she could remark back at him. “But yeah, yeah, you got it. No problems from me. Besides, I work tonight, won’t be home until your hitting your snooze button when you wake up in your bed...
alone.”
“Yeah, "work.'” Kate scoffed, using her fingers in quotation, unable to help rolling her eyes as she turned to head back up the stairs that would take her back to the main part of her loft. With that asshole behind her, she closed herself into the bathroom and finished applying her makeup. Some nude lipstick, brown eye-liner and black mascara; that’s just about as classy as Kate got. Flattening out the wrinkles on her small green dress with her hands, she gave herself a once-over look in her full body mirror before deciding ‘good enough.’ Leaving the bathroom, she picked up her car keys and left the safety of her home to travel the dangerous roads full of morons that didn’t know how to drive.
Deon finished wiping down his neck and glanced up at the neon colored digital clock on the wall. The entire basement of Kate’s loft had been transformed into Deon’s living space. It was dark, musty, unfinished… reminded him of his own room back in the seventeenth district actually, so he didn’t mind. Actually, Kate had asked him a number of times when he would start 'dressing it up' and making it look more like a room with carpet and decent furniture. He wasn't sure if he even
wanted to. What he
did know is that he didn’t have time to start up another rep so he moved to his bathroom where he did a quick rinse down and dressed in new clothes of a beat-up looking grey wife-beater with a button-up jean-jacket with no sleeves over it and a pair of beige cargo pants.
Moving over to where his mattress lay in the middle of the floor (just the mattress, no frame), he scooped out his sunglasses from a pile of dirty clothes and headed up and out of the loft to the garage where he mounted his cycle. Pressing his thumb to the sensor bar, it whirred to life and Deon was off to ‘The Spit.’
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TokyoPewPew
Lord Wyron
