Welcome to Gaia! ::

Setting: Relatively small town somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania. It's late June and the weather is warm and comfortable. It isn't hard for one person to know his/her neighbors, but they don't always get along. There are different 'classes' that often butt heads. There are the 'rich'/preps; neutrals; nerds/geeks/etc; 'poors'; and the ones who don't give a damn.





A tall, young, muscular man around 6’ 7” stood in the shadows rolling a wooden toothpick between his teeth. He sighed and crossed his arms, obviously bored. A black leather du-rag rested on top of his short jet-black hair and his dark brown eyes hid behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Covering his hands were black leather gloves with the second knuckle and up cut out of the fingertips. His black shirt was sleeveless and had the bar and shield Harley-Davidson logo on the back. His jeans were black and loose and the cuff as the bottom sat over the tops of his black riding boots.
Diagonal on his right cheek was a scar that he had gotten from an accident that he didn’t like to talk about. The man sighed again and took out his toothpick, throwing it onto the ground. He stepped into the light, cracking his knuckles. He smirked, hearing the sound that made most people cringe. He never got himself into many fights, but it wasn’t hard at all to make him angry. Some people thought he was on steroids and called his anger outbursts ‘roid rages’. Of course, he wasn’t on steroids, but he never denied the claims that he was. He was often quiet and didn’t have too many friends, which was the way he liked it. He wasn’t the trusting kind.

The man watched a woman walk by, the faint smell of alcohol reaching his nose. "Lucky," he muttered to himself. "Although she looks too young to drink."
"Talking to yer self again, eh Daniel?" said a guy from behind him, one of the man's worst foes.
"That's not my name, Matt, and unless you're ready to buy the farm, I suggest you stop calling me that," the man growled, his hands tightening into fists.
"Oh, I'm sorry Darline." With that, the man grabbed the guy named Matt and pushed him hard. Matt wasn't expecting it and stumbled, running into the girl with the can.

((G2g, sorry))

"Yes," Matt snapped, standing up. He then glared at the man who had pushed him and growled, "This isn't over, douche bag." He then turned and walked away, limping slightly for he had twisted his ankle.

"Moron," the man muttered and walked over to the girl who had fallen. "You okay?" he asked her, offering her his hand to help her up. "I think I heard something break, so you might want to check out your pockets if you had anything breakable in them."

"Uh, sorry about your iPod," the man said rubbing the back of his head. "Here, it's partly my fault, let me help pay for a new one." He grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a 50 and and a couple 20 dollar bills. He offered the money to the girl with a smile and re-pocketed his wallet.

The man put his money in his pocket and shook her hand. "You can call me Duke," he said smiling back, although it was small. "Nice to meet you, Chris. I haven't seen you around here before. Or maybe I have, and I just never really registered your existence. I do that a lot."

"Yeah," Duke nodded, looking around. "The cops around here are as clueless as a deaf guy watching a ventriloquist. Most of the guys here, at least around my age, are pervs, stay away from them. Like that guy, Matt, the one who ran into you. The bars around here don't care how old you are as long as you've got money, so you and you're little deal with rum should be a-okay. Oh, and don't talk to anyone who is preppy or looks like they might be a cheerleader. They will most surely try to drag you into their little queer posse."

"I like you," Duke said giving her another small smile. "You are someone I can relate to. Now the preps, they are everywhere and you can tell it is them by their high pitched voice that makes me want to jump of a freakin' bridge."

Duke shuddered and then looked back at Chris. "I would go to Hell either way, what would it matter? Of course I guess I could help other people out my getting rid of them first.. You gave me very, very bad ideas."