Outside (Open)

[jellar]

It was Sunday in the early afternoon. Jellar had left the shower leaving a clean fragrance come from his body as he dressed up in his normal white t-shirt emblemed with his name in Chinese. He slipped on some baggy jeans over his boxers and began tying his long hair into a ponytail, looking at himself in the mirror. He slipped his V551 into his pocket and grabbed his keys which followed his cell phone. Shaking his head vigorously for a few seconds, clearing his mind and also flinging out excess water drops in his hair, he called out to his father in Cantonese: "Ngo chut gai lah." The response was a simple grunt of approval, and Jellar stepped out his front door with the intention to become familiar with his neighborhood.

The sun had been up for quite the while, so the temperature was cool but not freezing. Taking in the nice day, sun up in the sky and maybe four clouds to count, Jellar began his pace down the sidewalk, making a mental route as to which was possible to backtrack should he get lost in his wandering of the neighborhood. The atmosphere was very light; it seemed that there would not be very many fights that might break out on the streets here. It was a good neighorhood, as Jellar could see it.

Jellar began to reflect on his situation as he paced around the neighborhood. He had just recently made an acquaintance with a somewhat unique Hircinian, but that was as far as he had gotten. He had yet to encounter any Varronite friends in school. He'd have to meet up with Bruce or Leon soon. Heck, any Varronite would be nice to meet up with right some time soon. The mental stress that came from knowing that the Hircinian hated his guts was more incredible than it seemed. He was having trouble falling asleep at night because of those damn stares. Had Jellar been more agressive-oriented, he knew that a few bloody noses and many black eyes would have originated from Jellar's fists in the past few days.

In any case, Jellar was wanting to meet someone new, or maybe encounter someone known. He wanted to socialize and analyze his situation in more depth. He turned a corner, taking in the new view and activities that this block had to offer him...

[Shamino Warhen Ph.D]

SkHOOOM!


A small bungalow on the street corner exploded, which would send Jellar flying back a few feet. Windows shattered in the surrounding houses, and an old 1980's mercedes stretch turned the corner, stopping in front of the destroyed building. Even to an untrained nose, gunpowder and sulphur could be smelt. A few smaller booms meant that there were small explosions in the basement. That meant only one thing...

The window rolled down, Shamino holding an arm out along the size and patting the limo gently. He inspected the home with his own eyes. A single figure weilding an AK-101 exited from the backyard, and the figure was raising the gun to fire at the limo. Two shots went off, neither of them from the assault rifle. Shamino held a smoking Colt 1911 in his right hand. He sat perfectly normal, laid back, with his face unable to be seen from outside eyes. A gloved hand and a suited arm with a silver pistol was all that was noticeable. The AK-weilding gangster flew back into the fire after both rounds penetrated his chest.


After feeling confident the makeshift weapons depot was in ruins, the limousine made a quick 3 point turn before driving back the way it came. It would be only minutes before sirens would fill the air. No one had paid attention to Jellar.

[jellar]

BOOM

Jellar was sent flying backwards, off the sidewalk and into the concrete street behind him. The house that had met his view was sent to another dimension as Jellar witnessed the house explode. Logic and ability taking action, Jellar quickly huddled up and shielded his entire body with his arms and legs as to guard against stray debris. He felt a shockwave cut through his body and pieces of glass flying by his face, but the extent of the damage to himself was the flying backwards of the explosion and a couple of bruises on his arms from pieces of debris flying into him.

"What the fuck?" Jellar cursed silently but viciously. It must have had been a year before he had cursed. The scent of an intentional explosion was drifting around the air, and smaller booms and shockwaves could be heard originating from the house that was now rubble. More explosions, most likely.

A mercedes soon drove by and a man lowered the window after stopping in front of the pile of rubble. He took out a gun to which Jellar instinctively ran to the back of the car to hide from, but it seemed the gun was not targetting Jellar whatsoever. He heard two deafening shots from the gun, and Jellar followed the direction of those shots. Rather near, Jellar saw a man fly backwards with two red dots on his chest, blood running down from those dots. 'What the hell is going on?' Jellar thought to himself, not wanting to get involved in any of this conflict. However, the limo soon drove off and turned around, leaving the way it came. Although wishing to pursue, Jellar knew that he could not run as fast as a car drove, so Jellar took his attention from that man and back to the house.

The entire square was in flames. It was soon to spread across the neighborhood. Rather than thinking about chasing the mercedes, Jellar whipped out his cell phone and dialed 911. He gave the situation that requested firefighters and gave the street and specified which intersection they were at. Sirens were already coming, most likely the police in a reaction to the gun shots. Soon the firefighters would be here as well.

Jellar felt extremely helpless.

He had no tools to aid in the fire; neighbors to this house were already clearing their home to see what was going on. Screams of horror could be heard resounding through the neighborhood. Accusing fingers were being pointed to Jellar, yet some felt that Jellar did not seem as bad as those accusations may have thought. Jellar joined the crowd that was forming and simply watched the fire grow steadly. The police arrived and secured an area of danger as to which no one was allowed to cross and began making comments on their walky-talkies. Over their loud shouting, one could figure that they requested firefighters but were denied that as they had already been requested.

It was not long until the big red firetruck arrived. They began working on the flaming pile of rubble and were hosing it down when the police began calling out for the person who had called the firefighters. Jellar stepped out and identified himself as that person and then they began to ask for details of the situation.

Exhausted, Jellar began. "It was very sudden. The house exploded, and this limo drove by. He took out this rifle and shot another man that had come out of the house. The man fell back into the flames and the limo drove off. All I did afterwards was call 911, and after waiting for you guys, we're here."

The police noted the information and dismissed Jellar. He began walking home, no longer in the mood for socializing with anyone else. Again, the words 'what the hell' ran through his mind. Such a random event happening to himself in San Francisco was unexpected on a new level. Millions of questions ran through his mind. 'Why was that house blown up?' 'Who was the driver in the limo?' 'Why the hell was I involved?'

So much for the 'good neighborhood'.