"Hit!"

"Hit!"

"Hit!"

Bits of fabric and wood fell to the ground as he swung his sword, finally jabbing it into the material of the training mannequin. "Is this nessisary?" The man panted, leaning on his hands which were placed on his knees.

"If you want to take your father's place as Blue Leader, then yes! Now pick that sword back up!" He adjusted the sleeves of his faded blue jacket.

"Only he wants me to do so," he groaned, yanking the steel blade out of the stuffing, shaking the torn fabric from the sharp weapon. "And the rest of the Blues, Delirious," his trainer spat.

Delirious turned to shoot him a glare, his bright, piercing blue eyes showing the son of the Chief truly didn't give two rats.
Luke, his training and battle instructor, rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The Blue clan sees greatness in you, Delirious," Luke walked around to his side, staring at him. Well, at his mask. "You have a bright future for yourself if you take your father's offer."

Delirious shouted, his sword cutting through the air and slicing the head of the mannequin, the shape of stuffing and woven twine falling to the ground, bouncing slightly. Luke stood, unfazed.

He dropped the sword, marching off to a bench which stood at the side. He unwrapped the strips of bandages that protected his knuckles; he had been practicing with the punching dummies eariler. He stuffed the bandages in a black gym bag, which held a water bottle, melee knuckle bandages, a spare mask (incase his broke), a sword sharpener, and a few snacks.

He bit into an energy bar, slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder. "See ya, ya little--" He heard Luke groan, a smirk tugged on his lips. "Bye Delirious," Luke interrupted before the stubborn man could finish.

The door slammed behind him, as he jumped down the steps into the cold Autumn breeze. Delirious kicked at the sidewalk with his black sneakers, letting out a low whistle. "Getting cold quick.."

He adjusted his hockey mask, which had a bit of red colour by the cheeks and forehead. His hot breath escaped through the holes at the mouth that looked as if they were frowning.

Delirious walked to a tie post attached to the sidewalk outside the training building. A grey horse snuffed a greeting, the black saddle sitting on his back. His fur was more white than grey, but Delirious didn't put much thought to it.

He climbed on, patting the horse's neck. "Ready, Sanity?" Delirious named him Sanity, because riding was one of the only thing that kept him from going crazy. It held a feeling of relief, freedom.

The reins snapped and Sanity and Delirious stormed down the roads, which were crowded with people and other horses. Dogs barked from windows and kids laughed on the sidewalk. Cats cuddled on fences and rooftops.

To the country. Delirious skid Sanity to a stop, slid off and guided him to his pen; the shelter was built with a tree in the middle, providing shelter and shade. He then went inside his house after dropping off Sanity.

He closed the door, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. Delirious took a deep breath, lifting his hockey mask to rest on the top of his head.
He didn't even dare to look in a mirror. He placed the mask on a side table as he strolled into the kitchen.

Flowers sat in a ceramic vase, happily reaching for the rays of light. Delirious gave a small, sad smile at the memory of that precious item that sat on the window sill.

His mother gave that to him. Actually, correction: dead mother.

Delirious immediately frowned. She passed when he was young, merely a toddler. His father always said she was assassinated by a Red member, and he believed him. He didn't give any argument.

His head turned as there was a knock on the door. Delirious checked the window; two guys stood on the porch, one went to tie up the horses. His smile returned as he rushes to get on his mask, pulling his blue jacket off the hook and shrugged it on.

The men outside knocked once more. "C'mon in!" Delirious called, adjusting his mask to fit snuggly on his face.
The three walked in, grinning.

"Brock, Brian, Daithi! How's it going, boys?"

Brian was one of the officers that worked in the town; Daithi was a medic who worked near where Delirious lived; Brock owned a market for tools.

"Not much, my man," Brian greeted. "But I have an operation for you, Delirious."