The facial hair he drew grew into a full beard with side chops. His whole face covered in black sharpie. he couldn't tell if it looked real or not. But he didn't need a mirror to know. It looked fake as fuck.
He went overboard once he heard the bristle sound of the hairs rubbings against the sharpie head. Liked the sound it made, and the way it felt on his hands. Kept going and going until he no longer had just a fake moustache but had... something undescribable. Nobody else in history had ever looked like this. Except for kids maybe. A kid who had a marker to themself and no adult supervision.
He laughed for a moment. Then frowned. He appreciated that he could escape from his reality for a moment even for something stupid like drawing on fake facial hair. The reality was that he had to run. Hide. Stay out of sight from Danny and Blayne. More so Danny. He wasn't sure if Blayne would be coming along.
Blayne was overall a good guy. Just like himself. All these murders... they were because of Danny. Although The Kid, he had let that guy go. The buff guy. He was supposed to kill him, but he made sure that he tied his hands in a way where he'd be able to break out. After that it wa on the guy to swim to shore and find a way to live.
The kid wondered about that guy. Was he still alive?
----
On a street in Oakland California Jack Attack walked slow. HE had all the time in the world. No phone, no notifications. His old coworkers thought he was dead. His ex girlfriend didn't even care if he was alive. His parents were probably worried sick about him, but he no longer gave a shit what the hell they thought.
Jack was a free man. He did what he want. And he didn't want a lot. He spent his mornings drinking espresso and walking up and down this street in Oakland for hours. Just thinking about... well not thinking actually. Just enjoying the existence.
The only thing he would think about once in a while was that kid. That kid who had purposly tied the knots on his hands loose so that he could break away and swim once they drove away. After that Jack knew he couldn't go back to his old life. He was going to live life on his terms from then on. He had been given a second chance.
He went overboard once he heard the bristle sound of the hairs rubbings against the sharpie head. Liked the sound it made, and the way it felt on his hands. Kept going and going until he no longer had just a fake moustache but had... something undescribable. Nobody else in history had ever looked like this. Except for kids maybe. A kid who had a marker to themself and no adult supervision.
He laughed for a moment. Then frowned. He appreciated that he could escape from his reality for a moment even for something stupid like drawing on fake facial hair. The reality was that he had to run. Hide. Stay out of sight from Danny and Blayne. More so Danny. He wasn't sure if Blayne would be coming along.
Blayne was overall a good guy. Just like himself. All these murders... they were because of Danny. Although The Kid, he had let that guy go. The buff guy. He was supposed to kill him, but he made sure that he tied his hands in a way where he'd be able to break out. After that it wa on the guy to swim to shore and find a way to live.
The kid wondered about that guy. Was he still alive?
----
On a street in Oakland California Jack Attack walked slow. HE had all the time in the world. No phone, no notifications. His old coworkers thought he was dead. His ex girlfriend didn't even care if he was alive. His parents were probably worried sick about him, but he no longer gave a shit what the hell they thought.
Jack was a free man. He did what he want. And he didn't want a lot. He spent his mornings drinking espresso and walking up and down this street in Oakland for hours. Just thinking about... well not thinking actually. Just enjoying the existence.
The only thing he would think about once in a while was that kid. That kid who had purposly tied the knots on his hands loose so that he could break away and swim once they drove away. After that Jack knew he couldn't go back to his old life. He was going to live life on his terms from then on. He had been given a second chance.