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Sep. 14th, 2009 06:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amicably_absentAmbrose, even more than Glitch, made an effort to make himself inconspicuous when he went out into the public arena. He could cope with a large group of strangers he didn't have to address or acknowledge. He had more trouble in some ways, but walking the streets he could manage. He shrugged on his coat, enjoying the swing and heft of the cloth as he started out of the palace.
He hadn't walked this path, but Glitch had and he hoped that that might carry true. But if it didn't, he had left early and had time to let Glitch get directions.
He didn't have a wonderful sense of time, but he knew he needed to be there when the sun was directly over head. So when it was getting close, and the shadows were short and sharp, Ambrose slipped back to let Glitch wander up a side street where some people lurked. "Hello?"
They paused and looked to him, squinting with narrowed eyes. "What?"
"Can you help me? I'm a little lost." Glitch smiled at them.
"I'll say you are, head case." One of the men stood. "Central City doesn't have the time or resources for your type."
"My type?" He looked around as they all started standing up. Something in him vaguely and dimly rang caution.
"Your type. Murders. Rapists. Filth." One of them spat on the ground. "Taking food out of our mouths."
"Hey, what? No. I was a political dissenter!" He stood up straight, pushing his hair back. "I lost my brain for Queen and country."
Oh, well then," one of them said in an odd tone. "I suppose that makes it all right then. You better go about your business."
Glitch smiled, relieved that they were such reasonable, nice guys. "Hey, thanks!"
He turned to walk off again, already having forgotten why he had tracked them down to begin with.
Then something hit him in the back of the head. There was a flare of pain, thick and wet and sharp. His vision fuzzed and darkened, and he felt his knees hit the pavement.
"Be careful. Promise me."
Ambrose heard footsteps. He flipped up onto his hands, kicking backwards and slamming his feet into jaw and chin, head snapping back under the force of Ambrose's kick. He landed with his feet spread, standing over the man's fallen body before looking back over one shoulder with a dark, heavy look.
He ducked a second rock, spinning and dropping into the form stance, one hand out stretched, the other hooked over his head, fingers curled.
His eyes went wide as the gun was pulled out. He twisted as there was the crack of the shot, heat scalding through his coat and over his ribs. He was running forwards already, fly kicking the gunman in the chest, foot snapping up and down onto his chest, standing there he rounded the maneuver with a high kick, spinning to kick his boot heel into the third man's face.
He backed off, the three of them groaning. The remaining three men were looking at each other warily, and at him.
A few steps back, and he had enough space to get away.
He turned and ran, trying to get out of the city. Central City was dangerous. The Longcoats were waiting, ever waiting and the Longcoats were bad.
He had to get to the safe place. Where he wouldn't be hurt. The place with the coffin.
Dodging more people, quiet and dizzy, he slipped through the city and out into the field and woodlands around it.
He liked beaches. There was a beach down by the water. That would go to the safe place, he was sure.
He hadn't walked this path, but Glitch had and he hoped that that might carry true. But if it didn't, he had left early and had time to let Glitch get directions.
He didn't have a wonderful sense of time, but he knew he needed to be there when the sun was directly over head. So when it was getting close, and the shadows were short and sharp, Ambrose slipped back to let Glitch wander up a side street where some people lurked. "Hello?"
They paused and looked to him, squinting with narrowed eyes. "What?"
"Can you help me? I'm a little lost." Glitch smiled at them.
"I'll say you are, head case." One of the men stood. "Central City doesn't have the time or resources for your type."
"My type?" He looked around as they all started standing up. Something in him vaguely and dimly rang caution.
"Your type. Murders. Rapists. Filth." One of them spat on the ground. "Taking food out of our mouths."
"Hey, what? No. I was a political dissenter!" He stood up straight, pushing his hair back. "I lost my brain for Queen and country."
Oh, well then," one of them said in an odd tone. "I suppose that makes it all right then. You better go about your business."
Glitch smiled, relieved that they were such reasonable, nice guys. "Hey, thanks!"
He turned to walk off again, already having forgotten why he had tracked them down to begin with.
Then something hit him in the back of the head. There was a flare of pain, thick and wet and sharp. His vision fuzzed and darkened, and he felt his knees hit the pavement.
"Be careful. Promise me."
Ambrose heard footsteps. He flipped up onto his hands, kicking backwards and slamming his feet into jaw and chin, head snapping back under the force of Ambrose's kick. He landed with his feet spread, standing over the man's fallen body before looking back over one shoulder with a dark, heavy look.
He ducked a second rock, spinning and dropping into the form stance, one hand out stretched, the other hooked over his head, fingers curled.
His eyes went wide as the gun was pulled out. He twisted as there was the crack of the shot, heat scalding through his coat and over his ribs. He was running forwards already, fly kicking the gunman in the chest, foot snapping up and down onto his chest, standing there he rounded the maneuver with a high kick, spinning to kick his boot heel into the third man's face.
He backed off, the three of them groaning. The remaining three men were looking at each other warily, and at him.
A few steps back, and he had enough space to get away.
He turned and ran, trying to get out of the city. Central City was dangerous. The Longcoats were waiting, ever waiting and the Longcoats were bad.
He had to get to the safe place. Where he wouldn't be hurt. The place with the coffin.
Dodging more people, quiet and dizzy, he slipped through the city and out into the field and woodlands around it.
He liked beaches. There was a beach down by the water. That would go to the safe place, he was sure.
