Walking around town, the streets wet of the evening rain. Wanderers rudely pushing through the narrow streets of the capitol. Ken, whom was merely trotting through under the roof bannisters, protecting him fron the rain, kept his hands burried deep within his pockets, and his head low inside his coat. His lips parted over the toothpick he had continuously messed with for hours, not bothering to let go of it. He ignored the peasents pushing him aside, not keeping any regrets or grudges. Although he moved through the streets, he couldn't help the fact that he was damn-straight lost.
Damn it... he growled. Next time...I'll ask fer a map... His eyes were straight-locked, avoiding contact with the peds. He stopped nearby a broad open alleyway, giving a rugged sigh. "'dis ain't no good, Ken," he grumbled, rolling the toothpick between his callous thumb and forefinger. "You may as well ask fer 'elp,"
He stared across the street, a pair of hunch-back outlaw species exchanging illegal goods to each other. He grumbled, knowing that they may be the only intelligent life forms on the street that may help him. He trotted across the street, ignoring the instinct to look both ways first, and up to the first goon sniggering under its breath. "'ey," he gruffly called.
The outlaw minions hesitated at first, suddenly catching a glimps of the Mudokon in their optics. They mumbled incoherently, spinning to Ken with disgusting eyes. "What'cha want, pud?" it growled with its grotesque mandible. Ken could only hold in his chuckle to the outlaw's intimidating glare.
"I'm lookin' fer a place, to find this...Oddfather fellah...you's know where I can find 'im?" The outlaws suddenly spreaded their legs further apart, holding their scrawny arms out to the inquisitor.
"Anyone lookin' or feelin' the need ta see the Oddfather...is an enemy o' ours," they growled. "You's better prepare yerself to be eliminated..."
Ken chuckled down from their threat, not even budging from the spot he stood in. Tightly in his pocket, his hand wrenched around the pistol he had been carrying around years before he became a Mafia leader.
"If you seriously lookin' fer a fight..." he grumbled, his head still down. "You's guys picked the wrong poison..." The outlaws slammed their spiked knuckles together, approaching Ken with open arms. Ken only stood down, his eyes closed focusing on the outlaw's heaving footsteps. The puny one cackled.
"He ain't even gonna run,"
"'dat's good," the luggy larger one chuckled. "Makes 'im easy prey," The behemoth suddenly barraged down the walkway towards the stalky Mudokon, roaring a phlemy bellow. Ken clenched his teeth together, suddenly snapping up with a devious glare. Inches away from his body, he jumped over the hunch-back, gliding long overhead with a backflip twist. He landed softly behind the outlaw, the lummock grunting in confusion. Ken chuckled softly, twisting around behind the outlaw, and mashed his sharp knuckles in to its muscular back, right in between its ribs and spine. It groaned in grieving pain, falling to its knees almost breathless. The small-fry pitter-pattered after the Mudokon, wailing a small battlecry, and flailing its arms towards him. He spun back around, a flying leg coming across its mandible with titanium force. The outlaw cried aloud, flinging its smaller frame back on to a brick wall with a small crack.
Ken chuckled darkly to himself, feeling the behemoth come back over him with open arms, and a furious roar. The time was right. Ken flung his hand out of his pocket, joining his other hand on the butt of his pistol, and pressing the barrel of his gun on the flabby chest of the outlaw. It halted its attack immediately, short gasps making it hyperventalate. Ken glared up in to the outlaw's eyes, his finger ready to pull the trigger. "I ain't gonna shoot yeh," he shook his head. "If you'd give me some 'elp...we wouldn't be in this situation, would w-" He spun around to the sprinting smaller outlaw, and put a bullet through its head. The smaller hunch-back tripped over its sudden lifeless body, skidding to a stop on the gravel pavement. The larger outlaw growled loudly, about to bring its arms down upon Ken. It choked upon its roar, falling backwards on the sidewalk as well, a bleeding hole in its chest. The pistol's barrel smoked lightly of grey heat, and small spatter of blood upon its silver casing. Ken wound the pistol by its trigger handle, and stuffed it back in to his pocket. He stood fully back up, with a disgusted smirk down to both outlaws he swayed his head to. With that, he jumped over the dead behemoth's corpse, leaving them to rot on the streets.
"Why couldn't you guys just help me..."