DΙͺα΄Κα΄Ι’α΄α΄ Cα΄Κα΄Κ β #AF7817x-βKing kneeled down in front of an old
TΚα΄α΄Ι’Κα΄ Cα΄Κα΄Κ β #C11B17x---βtombstone that appeared to have had that
βββββββββββββββ writing on it before it was scratched out and worn away. In a way, it almost looked like was a praying, but instead of praying to any god, he was praying to and for his wife, Celine. She'd been dead for years now, but he still clung to every memory of her as if it had happened yesterday.
Just beyond the tombstone was the out and open; he was at the outer edge of the city, and just a few more steps and he'd be out. You can always just leave. He could hear his wife's voice just echoing in the back of his head. Just a little more and he could actually be free of such an ugly and disgusting place, yet...
He couldn't. There was something he still had to do- something he still had to finish off, and until it was complete, King wouldn't be able to rest or stop. Until that group of men was killed, by his own hands, he wouldn't leave. His sole reason for existing since everything was taken from him was just for revenge. It seemed in the end, he had shallow reasons for continuing to live and survive. Celine was really the only thing that kept him going back then.
There were booming noises in the background, and the scarred man stood up to observe as two giant clouds rose in the east and west of the city. "They're making trouble already...?" He thought. He knew that some people were taking a job to eliminate a shade but was the other group his gang?
Probably. A few of their members were known to be troublemakers, only, he wasn't there to break up the fight. It was probably too late now though, but he didn't really feel right to just leave them be. 'If they're taking the job in the east, then that must mean the real fight's going on in the west...' He looked over to the other cloud of smoke. Did a fire start? It wasn't surprising to see things like that in the city they lived in, but then again, it wasn't exactly a good sign either. 'Even if it's not us... I guess checking it out couldn't really hurt.' He thought to himself, turning back to the grave.
His tags slipped out of his suit's collar, and with it, two rings dangling from a similar, thin chain. King quickly fixed both so that they were hidden, and stood, turning to leave the tombstone amongst two others. A singular flower was left on each, and the three faint last names of Trent could be hardly spelled out.