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The sun was shining brightly in the streets of Latent as a man in a long red jacket walked through the streets of the bustling city. The man enjoyed the sights and the sounds as he did so, as anyone could not help but do when in their hometown. The man known a Stephen Lasanti, A.K.A. Sutiiven, smiled as his long hair waved behind him in rhythm with his steps. It was a good day.

Unfortunately, most good days were spoiled by something or other. The man glanced towards what appeared to be a group of 13 or so kids in torn and dirty clothes in the midst of a sort of rumpus.

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A few of the nearby adults approached with the intent to break the fight apart, only to receive a nasty bop on the nose or a scratch to the face, causing them to mutter or whimper off as they decided that splitting up this thing just wasn't worth it. The shouts and screams were only partially legible. An occasional "-get 'er!-" or "OW!" were discernible, but not too much else. Surprisingly, no tears were being shed, or the sound of a wounded child's bawling was masked by the chaos.

Seeing as the majority of the group were circled about a central point, it was clear to Stephen that it was a 1 vs 100 situation of sorts, and that would just not do. He didn't mind an occasional fight between kids (he himself made a living off of fighting, so he had no right to judge) but he did NOT like it when the odds were unfair and the sides were unbalanced.

He walked up to within a few feet of the perimeter, and shouted:

"HEY, BREAK IT UP!!!"

Stunned by the loud noise, the crew spun around to face him, revealing a rather battered young girl holding a stuffed animal by the arm. All things considered, she didn't look that bad in comparison to the gang of boys that was surrounding her. From the looks of the black eyes and bloody noses, she could dish out some pain.

One boy, whose strut and stature suggested that he was the ring leader, stepped through the crowd and looked up at Sutii straight between the eyes.

"This' ain't nun' of your business! Why don'tcha go off and do grown up stuff like the rest of em?"

Slightly amused, Stephen said, "You'd better watch that mouth of yours, kid. Could get you into trouble."

"Can it, ya girl haired pansy-shmansy!"

"Hey now -"

"Dog faced son of a trash licker!"

"I'm warnin' y-"

"Wharf rat kissing mule hugger!"

"What does that even mea-"

"Pig clothed father of a mule kickin' trash eatin' vermin ridin' two faced son of a--HEY, PUT ME DOWN!"

Stephen had had quite enough of this kid's behavior, and right in public had scooped him up under his left arm, causing the other boys to scatter a short distance away - the girl however, was awe struck.

Without missing a beat, the man (who was now wearing a rather bored expression on his face) lifted up right arm and proceeded to whack the boy's backside in full view of the city around him. The kid yelped loudly, prompting Stephen to lift the hand back up and swing it back down again, putting him in a bit of a rhythm as he continued to spank the boy.

"You're a very *SMACK*(OW!) boring little boy *WHACK*(IE!) you know that? *THWACK*(AHH!) You should know *WHAP*(*SOB*) better than to *THWACK*(OWIE!) pick on little *SMACK*(NOOOO!) girls and talk *WHACK* back to grown - *SMACK*(AHH!) - ups like that! *THWACK* (*SOB*)"

The gang of bullies looked at each other in sheer panic for a moment as this went on, before one of the kids went "This guy means business, run for it!" On cue, the lot of them turned and ran in every direction they could to escape the wrath of the crazy spanking man. The girl stood there still with a look of awe on her face - she was obviously impressed. The adults were pretty impressed too. A few of them started cheering and applauding as the man in red continued to whack the boy's backside, no longer talking but otherwise oblivious to the surroundings.

Once sufficiently finished, the man sat the boy down (who was now sobbing rather thoroughly) turned the boy around, and with one final, powerful smack on the bottom, said "GIT!", causing the boy to flee, bawling his eyes out. As he ran off, the man glanced down at the little girl, grinned, winked, and gave her a thumbs up.

The child's following celebration could have made even the most squee-happy fangirls blush.

Joe Smith pushed his sunglasses up on his face. The sun shone brightly, and he was having another of his headaches - quite frequent headaches - and the light wasn't helping any. It was beuitiful, the sun shining on the road leading in, and the clouds out on the grasslands made it seem like the Gods were favoring the town enough to allow it this simple sect of light.

The crowds were another thing though - even in such times, the road was crowded with merchants and people and those nasty smelling automobiles. There were everyday people, and some not so everday people. The guards stood out like crazy, and so did those wearing weapons - even trying to keep said weapons concealed, but didn't know how to properly walk as one with them - but very few of them were like the man who he saw walking out of the city in the long, red coat, with brilliant, long, blonde hair. He stood out like a horse grazing with cows.

But what was behind him was more interesting. Even through the hubbub of the crowds, Joe was able to spot the child with the stuff animal clutched to her chest following the Man in Red. He smiled, thinking that the girl was following an idol of hers - till he saw that she appeared to have been in a scuffle, or had fallen down. She looked like she was on her own...

The long, eight foot staff he carried, the center, exactly sixteen inches wrapped in leather and thinner than the outer edges - three inches wide, one and a half inches around on the handle - had caught on a crack in the road. It caused him to stumble, and his own, three inch blonde hair felt heavy as the headache moved from the back of the brain to the front of it. He had completely taken a mistep admiring the girl and the Man in Red. Who were getting closer.

Joe glanced back at the Man in Red. The fact he had his face shoved down a barrel that could have possibly contained manure was slightly disturbing, and then he caught sight of the girl a few yards off. Joe had caught himself, and walked over to the girl, lifting his sunglasses off his brilliant, almost glowing blue eyes. However, the blue was seperated into nine peices by nine, 'glowing' red lines in the iris. He had seen how here eyes were from the distance, and figured that it would be perfectly okay if she saw his. He knew it was slightly intimidating, and assumed he was born with it.

He crouched near the girl, leaning heavily on his staff for support, being as he was only on the balls of his feet, and undid the latches on the straps of the backpack for the right arm. He then pulled it to the ground, and reached inside for a water bottle, in which he held out to the girl.

His head turned towards the man in the barrel - and saw it was no man. A youngman, battle worn, but still young. He raised his voice over the noise of the crowed, and said, "Young man! Come over here, please. This girl appearantly was following. In fact, she was following you, ever since the gates, or from what I saw!"

He was not intending the scare the girl, and all of his movements were extremely gentle around her, as well as the smile that was on his face. His staff was clearly made of wood, and his black coat was well worn, as were his faded jeans. He looked like a lot of other six foot three, blonde, blue eyed males with expensive sunglasses out there.

Joe straightened with a grunt, and turned to look at Stephen. The sunglasses had slid back down over his head, and he just gave a quaint little smile.

"Did you know she was following you? I'm assuming, from your words, you two are aquaintences?"

Joe had very fluid movements, everything flowing into everything else. His eyes focused less on Stephen and more upon the girl. He was good with children, but didn't like having them around every last moment. But, she was an orphan from dress, and through her actions around the two men, and from the way she clutched the water bottle and the stuffed animal. that was something very few people acheived when they lived with families, such close connections to things they are given, and when it was lost... He shuddered at the thought. He knew what it was like.

He seemed to have forgotten the questions he asked early, and held a hand out towards he man in red.

"Joe Smith."

Joe Smith smiled, and released Stephen's hand. He leaned heavily on his staff, his face quite content. He lifted the sunglasses back up over his eyes, and looked at the girl, and back at stephen.

"Chance meetings, eh? Sounds like you have an admirer, Stephen," Joe said, a little hint of a joke in his voice. He chuckled lightly, and crouched down again, reaching into his backpack and pulled himself out a bottle for stephen as well as himself.

"Wanna see if she needs something to eat? I can pay, but I don't think you'll be rid of her anytime soon."

Or at all, if we keep this up he thought to himself with a small laugh.

Joe coughed as he sipped on his water bottle, having to hold his hand up to his mouth to keep it from flying over to stephen. About themselves... Joe didn't much care for this subject... especially since there was VERY little, even for him, to know.

"Well... I woke up about two, three months ago. And kinda had a massive attack of Amnesia. Or so that is what I was told it is called... Though, it doesn't make any sense. The police officer told me that amnesia, in severe cases, causes loss of all memory, usually making someone, say my age, a newborn all over again. Though, the weird thing is..." He paused, and took a breath.

"I remember how to fight. Hell, I even remember how to use my techniques, if not all of them at the immediate moment, but if I can imagine it, it's something I learned in my past. The officer wanted to test how well I did remember it... and well, he said I was lucky he had said that in front of others 'or else' he would have pressed assault and attempted murder charges on me. Being as we couldn't figure out my name, and my prints and DNA didn't register in any system, we came up with Joe Smith. I rather like the name, quite frankly." Joe said, rubbing the stubble on his face.

Honestly though, he caught flashes. A large, dark red and black sword, a large figure, and assumably himself, with his Sword Staff seperated and the two of them fighting on a dark, storm covered night in a building. Children were in the background, very blurred images, but obviously children. It ended when a slash acrost his chest caused Joe to fall to the ground. It had happened once, but when he was out in forests he ended up gaining another flash back of the storm, and only the storm.

Joe shook his head, trying to clear it.

Joe looked at the girl, and then at Stephen. He seemed to have found himself an adopted daughter! He felt like ordering a boddle of alchohol for the occasion, but through that away the instant it came - he tried it once, and ended up with a large portion of his money missing the next morning.

He sat there, examining his staff carefully, tryiing to keep his eyes off of the other two. Stephen was the one who got himself into it, And it was his responsibility. But... Joe had been the one to spot her following Stephen, and he was just a kid.

"I don't want to be alone, either, Stephen," Joe said, a small smile on his face, and stood up, a deep bow following afterwards. A very formal bow.

"And besides, do you have a medical kit, six - well, three - extra waterbottles and several ready and healthy travelening snacks that can last a few weeks between several people on you at all times?" Joe said this, stood back up, looking at the girl with an unreadable expression in his face.


Damn.. now I'M in on it... Oh well. Stephen is very clearly a fighter... he could use a free babysitter!