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TWO: THE ENCOUNTER

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2006

Coincidences.

Coincidences are a funny thing. They're as unpredictable as they are foreseeable. You see, often after an event has transpired that happened to shock someone in a way they didn't expect, they call it a coincidence. But oftentimes, deep down, there's always the part of someone that does expect the unexpected to happen. That counts on the worst possible outcome, yet still proceeds to be surprised after getting said horrible outcome. That notices all the signs, yet ignores them, instead preferring to carry on with their day and act shocked when the thing all signs pointed towards actually happens.

You see when something happens once, it's an event. When something happens twice, it's classed as a coincidence. But when something continues to happen on and on again, noticing the signs becomes inevitable, and ignoring them becomes even more arduous.

"It happened again"

On good days, Franklin 'Foggy' Nelson never entered his shared dorm room in silence. Always preferring to barge in with some random fact or event in a futile attempt to scare his seemingly unsuspecting and not to mention blind roommate.

Upon noticing his attempts had once again failed, the young-adult let out a audible noise of complaint, proceeding to run a hand through his messy - frankly dirty – hair in a show of exasperation. "Dude seriously? Not even a small flinch? You know at this point I'm considering theories of you being some sort of bat, 'cause there's no way you could've heard me coming without some echo-location mojo or whatever"

Once again he got no real reaction from his roommate. The only sign showing that he had in fact heard him being the slow smirk-like grin that appeared on the face of the studious male.

"Foggy, I can assure you that I do not posses the ability of echo-location. You're simply not as quiet as you imagine yourself to be. However for the sake of our friendship and your slowly diminishing 'scaring-the-blind' spirit I'll bite. What happened again?"

Painting an offended look on his face and releasing a sound of indignation – after realizing that his roommate was, in fact blind – the blond male went to sit down on his bed.

"I, for the sake of our friendship, will ignore those truthfully hurtful words and grace you with the answer you so desire my friend. 'What happened again' you ask? Well, my wonderful visually impaired friend, that would be another mysterious rescue!"

"..."

"Mysterious rescue? I'm sorry foggy I'm not sure I quite understand what you're getting at here, you might need to be a little bit more specific" the brunet student spoke up after a beat of silence.

"Don't you remember that apartment building that went up in flames a couple weeks ago? Well, since then there have been multiple reports talking about this mysterious individual they claimed to be the savior of a little girl stuck in said burning building. Ring any bells?"

The small nod of acknowledgment given to him by his friend was all he needed to continue on with his rant.

"Well, they say he showed up again! Apparently this group of males has been stalking around the streets of new york city ambushing people passing by for a couple weeks now, and suddenly they appear unconscious in front of the local police station screaming about some guy shrouded in black or something!"

Releasing a noise that ranges in between unconvinced and unimpressed the brunet male shook his head.
"Come on fog. While I agree that the actions of this 'black shrouded guy' – as you so graciously named him – are honorable in a way, he's as much a criminal as the ones he got arrested don't you think? And how do they even know it's the same guy?" Putting away the braille he had been studying, the male navigated his way to his bed and sat down. "It just seems like a double-sided blade kind of situation to me"

"Come on Matt! Have some faith! While I don't necessarily agree with his methods, even I have to admit that he did help. I mean without this dude who knows how many other people would've gotten mugged. Heck, maybe you! Whether by coincidence or intent, this unnamed double bladed mystery did show up in time to save people, that has to count for at least something right?"

"...Right."

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

Life on the streets was anything but comfortable. It was nothing like having somewhere to return to after a long day, nothing like sitting on the couch or falling asleep while watching television. But to a now seven-year-old Roman Hall it became the closest thing to home he could get his now damaged and worn hands on. His stomach felt in a state of perpetual anguish, his bones felt brittle and his skin felt frail – something he hadn't even know could happen.

The first few weeks after he had been kicked out of his home, he had felt helpless and confused. He hadn't had a clue of where to go, and where to go from there. So, as a result he settled for a relatively calm alleyway and made his way through the streets from then on. He'd visit shelters and food banks, but as a small child he could only get so far and do so much before suspicion raised and people began to notice he did not have a mom waiting outside for him like he had told them an hour ago.

Now, he lives off of the kindness of those around him willing to share their money or food with a scrawny homeless boy. Finding a place to sleep however continues to form an issue for the boy, considering himself lucky if he finds a bench that hasn't been modified to keep the homeless off of it.

Nights continue to be cold and dangerous, and no matter how hard he tries, sleep never seems to take him to that land of blissful wonders like it once had. Instead dreams are replaced by the same horrid memory, and Roman is forced to sleep with one eye open, light and ready to run whenever the moment arises.

Surprisingly There is a bright side to all of this, namely his mutation. Even though part of him hates the genetic mutation for ruining his young life, even Roman has to admit that it does work as a form of amusement whenever he can find something to taint his skin with. He does this in secret of course, if someone were to see that part of him, there's no doubt in his mind that all that kindness he'd been given would abruptly stop. Like a tap that got turned off with the simple motion of a hand.

Currently Roman is doing just that. Sitting against the brick wall of an alleyway, in his hand an old - almost empty - pen he'd found in the trashcan outside of some office store, he watches as the line of ink he has just painted on his skin squiggled around the surface. If you were to ask him, It almost seemed alive in a way. Like a living organism created by a pen and itching to be freed out into the world.

Looking away from his arm, Roman glanced at his surroundings. The old brick walls surrounding him seemed worn and old with dirt, cracks and some sort of vines crawling through their crevices as if trying to find their way through a maze. The ground he was sitting on was dirty as well, cold stone tiles scattered with dirt and filth, still slightly wet from the rain that had fallen from the skies not too long ago. A big green dumpster sat beside him, filled with god knows what. Roman remembers looking through one once, only seeing it filled with old newspapers, boxes, mold and some sort of deal animal that looked to have been there for a while. Safe to say he didn't look in those again after that. The dumpster beside him however seemed almost empty; something he decided to keep in mind for the instance that it would start raining again and he needed some sort of shelter.

'It wouldn't be long now' he thought 'until someone notices that a homeless boy is residing right next to their store or house and chases me away again'

A sudden, rattling noise shocked the boy out of his thoughts, causing eyes to dart around in nervous anticipation. Warily – with slow movements – Roman turned his head, expecting the worst of the worst; it wouldn't be the first time he'd come across people approaching him with bad intentions, and he doubted it would be the last.

But instead of finding a murderous criminal, a hopeless desperate addicted soul, or a cunning thief, all his eyes caught was a lone rat scurrying around a fallen trashcan, desperately trying to find something to sustain its ravenous need for food; its gut wrenching hunger.

Releasing a sound of vague relief, Roman leaned back against the wall once again. The phenomenon wasn't an irregular one. Not in the slightest. Rodents, strays, and birds were a normal occurrence, and often the source of Romans quick bursts of trepidation.

Slightly aggravated he'd been frightened by the animal once more, Roman shook his head and muttered angry curses – ones a seven-year-old boy definitely shouldn't know – under his breath.

"Every fucking time"

Too distracted by his anger at his own stupidity, Roman failed to notice the presence that had slowly crept up beside him. Had failed to notice the slow yet steady footsteps resounding against the stone tiles of the surface; the heavy yet silent sound created by hefty boots hitting the floor over and over again.

"Now, should a boy your age really be cursing like that?"

𝗘 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗞𝗦 !

Anyone: Roman you shouldn't curse, it's unbecoming for a boy such as yourself to-

Roman: ..Fuck you.

This chapter was kind of eh. I mean I don't have any other words to describe it as than eh. And yes, I know it was short, but I warned you didn't I? Honestly you should've expected it. Anyways, my smol bby got rescued like a stray kitten found in an abandoned alleyway :,

To be honest I posted this chapter to try and cheer me up, because when I see comments I get a bit happier. I'm in a shit place mentally atm and had a panic attack earlier caused by the insensitivity aimed towards me by my family.

As per usual I'm 99,9% sure that there are numerous grammatical errors in there (I'm too tired rn to reread and check for errors), if you did find one, please kindly point them out to me so I can fix them! But don't be mean because I will, in fact, cry.

Now, I don't want to seem annoying or self centered, but if you want to follow me on another platform than this one, I have an art Instagram called @xemmal_art ! Now I know, I know self promo sucks, but it would really help me out if you'd check it out and maybe drop a follow (if you like it ofc). If not, that's fine too! :]

Don't forget to comment, vote and share! Just a single comment or vote means a lot to me and makes my day!