I’d been a long day. Normally he wouldn’t have ventured into the city in such a public way, but tonight a ground level resting place seemed to do the trick. He was pleased to report that his newly acquired jacket, despite it’s excessive size, was proving itself to be quite warm, which was wonderful, because the cold wind was really starting to make it’s way through the streets, and he was beginning to look like nothing more then skin and bones.

The alley wasn’t anything he was keen on. It was loud and damp, but it did feature a wonderful exhaust fan pumping out warm air that smelled deliciously like french fries. His stomach was grumbling furiously, but he really didn’t have it in him at this point to do much about it. Losing the man that was meant to be his lunch was quite the set back. Generally he tried to avoid people in that capacity, but he really was running low on steam, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Sitting on the ground next to people walking by felt desperate to him.

The most surprising thing to him was the lack of interest people seemed to show someone sitting on the side of the road. He’d been so afraid of being cast out if he wandered into the more populated areas, but instead, it appeared he could just hide in the open; no one had any interest in looking his way. He could get used to that.

His last real meal had been weeks ago, and although he’d managed to keep a reasonably low profile for the most part, the last few hours had proven themselves to be more then his poor metabolism could handle. As soon as he had some sleep in him, he was going to find something to call dinner.

The night air was surprisingly cool on Vicente’s skin as he wandered through this latest and more isolated part of the city. So far things were going okay in his life. His failure to kill the “demon” that was terrorizing on of the Family’s leaders had proved to be pretty irritating, but none too long after, the man was…”removed” from the Family in order to give them a better name. After all, they were not mad a Vicente, he was merely following orders. They were upset that this man could ask for such a thing to be done to a mutant. The needed to be out of the public image as much as possible.

So, since that night, Vicente was better. Having just come off a job, the assassin casually strolled down the street with a small, satisfied grin on his face. The death of that hotel owner would never be traced back to him or the Falcone family. The man was definitely good at his job.

Strolling along, the assassin fixed the strap of his duffle bag, that had some…questionable…material inside and basked in the evening air. Now that his task was done and he had put distance between both himself and the dead target a few blocks back, he tried to decided what else he could do with his evening. Drinks? Food? Food definitely sounded good at the moment.

As he stopped in front of an alley, he did not notice the overly large coat with the hidden man within slouching against the wall. Instead the assassin calmly pulled out his cell phone and began to search for a good vegetarian restaurant that was close to his location.

“Ahh,” he mumbled with a small grin. “It’s definitely a good night…”

He’d been eying the passers by, looking for one alone enough to warrant pulling off into the shadows. He’d gotten used to the idea of sleeping with busy streets below him, but sleeping with footsteps beside him was surprisingly difficult. He wasn’t napping anytime soon, and if he couldn’t sleep, he had nothing to keep himself from thinking about how hungry he was.

Hundreds of people had passed by that night, but there was never really a point where anyone was completely alone, and he simply was too weak to try anything out of his character from his more opportunistic breed of hunting. The current passerby, however, had taken to stopping right in front of him. As he muttered something to himself, Shane decided to take a bit of an extended look at the large man.

His face immediately became recognizable, but he couldn’t place where from the profile. Subconsciously, he began to lean forward, trying to get a better look at the man’s face as he typed away on the cellular phone. His jacket, however, had different plans. Hooked onto a broken pipe beside where He’d been resting, the poorly made jacket let loose a reasonably loud tearing sound for a brief second. A jumpy Shane reacted with an anything but subtle snap back into his original position, unsuccessfully “acting cool.” If he could blush, he certainly would be right then and there.

Vicente sighed to himself as he continued to type away on his cell phone, reading reviews for nearby food joints. The man was not picky, but he definitely did not want to eat somewhere where a man could have possibly died of food poisoning. Thank god for the electronic age and people’s inability to keep their opinions about things to themselves. It only proved to be the best way to learn about restaurants without ever having to go inside…

But as he paused, stood there and continued to type away, he heard the subtlest of movements behind him. Slowly Vicente began to replace his phone into his pocket and watching to reach for one of his hidden blades in his belt when there was a not so subtle sound.

RiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiPP!!

Vicente spun around and turned to face where the sound had come from. His eyes scanned the darkness, looking for something, anything that was out of place. But soon his eyes fell once again on the sight of the jacket covered man who was trying to act cool throughout the situation. Vicente arched a brow, is fingers trailing at the handle of one of his knives on his belt.

Cracking his neck to the side he eyed the person before he contemptuously spit off to the side.

“What’re you doing?” he growled as he practically snarled his teeth. “Who are you?”

Shane tried awkwardly to avoid eye contact with the now irritated man. Unfortunately, both the “look down” and “look the other way” methods proved to be less then effective at convincing him he wasn’t paying any attention to the street. For a moment, he debated playing dead (he’d seen animals try it in the forest before), but figured no one was stupid enough to fall for something that ridiculous. In a bit of a panic, he slowly jerked his head up, his eyes the last to make the transition.

Then he realized where he knew the man. The two had both participated in a tournament of sorts, fighting it out in an underground street fight. Shane hadn’t fared the best that night, but he made it out alive; better the some could claim. His memory didn’t offer him much on a background for the man though. He couldn’t even recall his name.

“You’re the, ugh…” he stuttered, his voice hoarse and deep, “…fight, thing?”

He really should stick with his common practice of just staying quiet. That was just embarrassing, and possibly life threatening. His eyes immediately plummeted south, and he kind of think of what his game plan would be if he managed to piss this guy off enough to warrant a little violence.

Vicente snarled. He didn’t like being snuck on up. As a matter of fact he was quite good and not letting such a thing happen. But for whatever the reason, genius, ignorance, complete chance, he let that creature in the now torn jacket sneak up on him. And now, Vicente glared down at the heap of whatever the man was that was hunched into of the oversized coat.

Whoever, or whatever it was, didn’t look particularly dangerous , in his opinion, more like a simple irritation. But Vicente knew better. He knew that looks could be deceiving. Yet…there was some kind of familiarity inside that creature’s looks. He didn’t know what it was but something just sang out that he had run across this person before but in a slightly different context. What was it though?

He shook his head as he slowly began to relax his guard and listened as the breathing coat spoke to him…

>> “You’re the, ugh…fight, thing?”

He arched a brow.

“What?” he asked in an irritated manner. “Trust me, you don’t look like you could fight off a cold, much less than me. Quit causing trouble…”

For all it was worth, the man was probably right. Shane certainly wasn’t much of a fighter. All he really had going for him was a pretty good sense of evasion; he wasn’t very easy to land a good blow on. Over all though, he didn’t really have much in the way strength to land a proper blow. That fight night had confirmed it. He was a master of the sneak attack. That was about it.

Still, he didn’t exactly like hearing someone say it. Despite every cell in his brain telling him he really shouldn’t, he found himself standing up, turning to face the man. He naturally tried to shift into a very powerful stance, but his current skinny figure matched with the oversized coat left him looking more fragile then he normally would. And yet there he was, sizing the man up, trying to look tough. It wasn’t until the man’s irritated face was only a couple feet from his that he realized that this wasn’t the best course of action.

He lifted up his tattered hat to show of his face a little more clearly, splitting edges of his mouth out, widening his mouth and creating a few more teeth to go with it. He’d just entered a staring match. He didn’t think he had much of a chance, he kept going along with it.

“Who’s causing trouble?” He asked, sarcastically. He began to look the man up and down again, when the phone caught his eye, the word vegetarian in particular. An eyebrow rose as he returned his gaze to the man’s face. He didn’t strike Shane as the vegetarian type.

“I guess you don’t remember me then, eh?”

Vicente practically snarled as he looked at the creature that dared to present itself in front of him. He truly was in no mood to be trifled with tonight. Especially not after he just came off of a kill. Instead he simply tried to appear as threatening as possible. Even though this person didn’t look like he could cause any harm, the experienced assassin just knew it would be better to air on the side of caution.

But then, his words seemed to stir the oversized jacket to stand up and try to appear just as threatening in return.

>> “Who’s causing trouble?”

The man, whatever he was, looked frail, as if he had not eaten in days. He tried to present himself as dangerous looking, or at least able to hold his own, but Vicente was by no means going to back down. Instead as he stood there, staring at the man, he couldn’t help but…smirk. The stranger looked as if a breeze could knock him over. And yet here was with no intent of backing down. The assassin had to commend the…”man” for fortitude.

>> “I guess you don’t remember me then, eh?”

“Should I?” he asked honestly.

He arched a brow at that comment. Remember? He tilted his head as he looked closely at the man. Who was he? There did seem to be some sort of familiarity about him, but where was it? He really just could not place him but as he stood there something did flash across his mind. He pictured a dark, grungy setting, and lots of pain…and loss…

A fight? Fighting? A tournament…He relaxed slightly as he peered at the man once again.

“The tournament,” was all he said. If this man was really who he thought he was…he’d know what he was talking about…

Shane could feel the tension just melt away from him. Sure, there was no guarantee that he wasn’t going to get beat down as a result of this confrontation, but unless there were some hurt feelings from that night that he didn’t know about, his chances were looking up finally. An audible sigh of relief escaped his wide maw as he shoulders drooped.

“That’d be it.” He nodded, extending a thin finger towards the stranger, and then switching it to a thumbs up. Another problem had presented itself to him now, though; he’d just instigated a conversation. His relaxed posture began to stiffen up again and the awkward glances around began to make re-appearances. At a loss for words, he spewed out the first thing that could come to mind.

“So… long time no see, huh?” He shrugged his shoulders. It was the best he could do. He pulled his cap down again to cover his face out of embarrassment. "The name's Shane," He added, his hand hesitating before extending for a shake.

The man visibly relaxed at the mention of the tournament. Vicente was good enough at reading people to know that this meant that the man was exactly whom he had thought him to be. That was good, at least he was able to identify him, but what did he want? It was obvious that he knew exactly who Vicente was, or at least recognized him, but why? Was he looking for retribution? That tournament was ages ago at neither of them had won. So…why did he want?

>> “That’d be it.”

Vicente nodded but he did not falter in his position. He needed to keep up his stern demeanor in order to scare off the incredibly thin man in case he some stupid ideas about attacking him and swiping his wallet. Still…that did not mean there could not be polite conversation, did it?

They weren’t animals.

>> “So… long time no see, huh? The name's Shane,"

Vicente eyed the man closely. Then eyed the hand that was offered to him. He was apparently really looking just to pass the time with idle conversation. Maybe that was best. Vicente was good in a fight but he remembered watching this joker fight. He was a force to be reckoned with. It was shocking that he lost to that nutjob running around in the red towel with a yellow “S” painted on his chest, and pretending he could fly.

Reaching out, cautiously, he seized and shook “Shane’s” hand. “Blood. Name’s, Blood.”

He marveled for a second as he shook Shane’s hand. His hand felt so thin and week looking. It was then that he noticed that the man’s physical stature was so vastly different than from the last time he saw him.

His eyebrow arched as he asked, “You alright? I remember you being a little…bulkier the last I saw you.”

Blood? That’s what he was going with? If he’d known they were going with stage names, he’d have rethought his decision to drop his real one. He hated handing out his identity to the wrong people, but he’d thought this would have been a worthwhile opportunity to do so. It appeared as though this was going to stay a least a little formal, though, so he decided that the “old friends” routine probably wasn’t going to work out that well.

The man’s firm grip squeezed his hand cautiously. As he shook it, he seemed to eye the hand with suspicion before asking “You alright? I remember you being a little…bulkier the last I saw you.” And he was right. The fight was the last big meal he’d had, and it was quite possibly the biggest he’d ever been. Compared to then, he looked like a raison.

He rubbed the back of his head. “Ya… I’ve kind of lost some weight.” He quickly pulled his hand back out of the shake and proceeded to hide it inside his oversized sleeve. “And that was more of a one-time look that anything, really.”

Shane’s stomach began to growl quite loudly as his eyes drifted back to the small screen in the man’s other hands, still displaying images of vegetarian meals. He really was quite hungry.

The handshake ended and both Vicente and this new man stepped back and continued to observe each other closely. Vicente was still not one hundred percent sure as to the man’s motives but he really did seem as if he just wanted to catch up. The whole concept was a little strange to Vicente but he was not going to call him on it. He remembered the way that man fault and if there was one thing that he did not need right now was to cause more trouble because he has had time to rest and especially to eat. Instead he tried to remain as calm as possible as the man finally answered his question.

>> “Ya… I’ve kind of lost some weight…And that was more of a one-time look that anything, really.” [/color]

“Looks like more than just a little,” Vicente said with a slight scoff and a smirk.

Then he heard that rumbling. It was so loud and startling that for a moment Vicente thought that maybe it was a nearby building settling or some terrifying monster was crawling its way out from the depths of hell to devour them both. But even as he turned, he noted that the sound was coming in the direction of that man.

He paused…and then realized that it was the sound of a starving stomach. He tilted his head as he eyed the stranger. How long had it been since this psycho had eaten? Mentally rolling his eyes he took a breath. Normally Vicente was not this charitable , but he was in a good mood thanks to his successful kill.

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he nodded to him.

“Hey, we both lost that tournament pretty harshly. Care for a loser’s beverage?” he asked. “Great bar around the corner that serves food too.”

Once again, the pigment of his skin saved him the additional embarrassment of blushing. His stomach obviously made an impression on the man. Between the comments on his weight and his obviously frustrated belly he’d painted a pretty strong image of a starving homeless man, and surprisingly for a man going by the name blood, he seemed to have some sympathy for him.

“Care for a loser’s beverage?” the man asked him. “Great bar around the corner that serves food too.” His stomach beamed at the sound of those words, grumbling again. He crossed his arms over his gut to try and muffle the noises.

The idea of an outing like the one he described was extremely foreign to Shane. He hadn’t had a meal that had been prepared for him since he was a child still living at home. Hell, he couldn’t even remember that last time he needed to chew a meal before he consumed it. And on top of that, this outing would require him to go indoors where regular, judgmental humans would be surrounding him. By this point though, he wasn’t thinking the way he normally would. His caution had been slipping away bit by bit as the pounds keep falling off, and he found himself to just kind of keep going along for the ride.

“That sounds like a great idea.” He managed to fumble out. His voice had finally found it’s balance, and the rasp had mostly vanished. Despite the fact that he wasn’t over thinking the plans, he was running through them in his head, and another detail popped into his head that he felt compelled to say out loud.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had a drink before.”

The man shifted and apparently he seemed to be slightly embarrassed by the disgruntled sound that his stomach gave off. Vicente couldn’t blame him. That was rather embarrassing. But the old assassin said nothing as he waited for the man to respond to his offer.

It was not that Vicente was usually the charitable type. But he remembered seeing that man fight back in that tournament. He was rather good, even though he lost. Vicente could respect someone who knew how to fight, who was a warrior at heart. That was why he would buy the man a drink and maybe even feed him. If there was one thing that the assassin could not stand was to see a warrior suffer from the pangs of hunger. No such thing should ever befall them.

>> “That sounds like a great idea.”[/i]

Vicente nodded.

“Good,” he responded as he cautiously turned his back on him. “Then follow me.”

>> “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had a drink before.”

He paused as he turned back to face him. He tilted his head curiously as he looked at the man close. Never had a drink? Vicente wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he had heard that correctly but he soon realized that he did. He was just shocked by the sound of that phrase so he knew that he was going to have to rectify that soon.

A grin crept across his face as he nodded.

“Then that’s the first thing I’m buying you, come on,” he said as he walked on, boldly through the sidewalk.

Shane followed the man who seemed to have quite a bit of enthusiasm for the whole thing all of a sudden. Something about the idea of buying him a drink had really brought a smile to his face. He wasn’t complaining though. He’d only just realized as they began heading towards the bar that he really didn’t have any money on him at all, a problem when your plan is to buy dinner. He wasn’t really sure how to bring that subject up into conversation, but this sudden change in his attitude seemed to make that entire issue just slip away.

He walked cautiously down the sidewalk, trying to keep up with his new friend. Although he seemed to be experiencing a strange lack of fear of the things that would normally leave him suspicious, he still found the prospect of walking around people on their level to be a difficult one to grasp. His hat was pulled low again covering his face and he tried to avoid eye contact with everyone that they passed. Even though he wasn’t looking at any of them, he could imagine all of their faces staring.

“So…” Shane asked, looking down on his feet, “How far of a walk is this place anyways?” The walk was something he couldn’t wait to be finished with.