GaGi's Bizarre Adventure

Some people are just found by trouble without having to look for them, even if they really just want to spend some time alone in a quiet place.
Most of the street lamps weren’t reaching into this part of the park, where Anon sat, leaving the place bathed in a deep blue darkness. One could only hope that such places would be quiet in the middle of the night. Trees slowly shimmered with the gentle, yet chilly breeze, spreading the smell of grass and trees around, it was easy to get lost in the peace and tranquility of this moment.

Thwack.

A tennis ball bounced back from the wall, breaking the silence. Bounced again, this time from the ground itself and back into Anon’s hand.
Another throw, though it didn’t have full attention, the ball still bounced cleanly and was easily catched, yet the thrower seemed to bee stuck in deep thought, throwing the ball, again and again, his eyes planted on scribblings in the dirt before him, a map of the city of Canterlot. More importantly on small dots which were on the map with words: spine, heart and left leg, written next to them. With each bounce of his tennis ball, a gentle ripple caused the dirt to slightly shift. Each shift caused, with each shift, the dot labeled as Skull seemed to move a bit.
It was a friday night and people possibly still wandered the streets. Anon assumed that the reason why he was dragged to this city was those parts being gathered here. From what it looked like, they weren’t in one place, so it was improbable that a single person had them all.

The next throw wasn’t aimed at the wall, striking the dirt drawing, making most of it unreadable. With that, Anon stood up from the bench he was sitting on and dusted off his jeans. Fixed up his leather jacket a bit and started walking out of the park. He wasn’t going to follow the trail of the skull for now, it was getting late and he still planned on catching some Z’s. With one last thwock, Anon catched his tennis ball, pocketed it and started walking towards the park exit.
The trouble will find him, it always does.

Clanking of bottles could be throughout the whole buildsite, followed by loud laughter. temporarily drowning out the playing music.
Gilda lighted up another of her cigarettes, still chuckling from a joke said by one of her pals. Her eyes wandered lazily around, gazing at multiple empty beer bottles and empty vodka one. She took a long whiff and sat on the short stone fence. Unfinished hotel was her favourite place to spend evenings in. Certainly it was much better than just being home. Some of the guys seemed to be on their third beer, causing some of them to turn violent, wanting to go and fight someone, of course none of them ever would try and fight her, because she would beat them up, but they’ll probably go and look for troubles by themselves.
For now, one of them just seemed to present his fighting technique by shadowboxing.
“Stop showing off Jack, you’re gonna hurt yourself more than you’ll hurt the air.” Gilda mocked with a shit eating grin on her face.
“Hey fuck off, Imma use it on some fucker today I just feel it!” he retaliated with a proud look on his face.
Gilda just chuckled. She liked them but they were bunch of dumb dweebs a lot of time. At least they dressed good. Not as good as her, but still. Much more style than the dumb dweebs back in highschool. When she still attended it, she hated how everyone looked like a kiddie cartoon character.

Everyone’s heads turned towards the sound of something bouncing off the pavement. Cops wouldn’t be ideal right now.
Despite having eyes used to dark by now it still was hard to make out a shape of whoever was there. Soon enough though, some tall dweeb in leather with a ponytail started walking their direction, probably using the place as a shortcut from the park. Unluckily for him, it would seem that Jack will be right tonight.
He seemed to ignore the group of punks standing around.
Gilda took another whiff of her cigarette and put one leg on another, this would be interesting.

One of the punks crossed the guy's path, stopping him.
“Nice Jacket.” he said with a shit eating grin as the rest seemed to circle around him.
No response. “You’re deaf fucker?”
long haired guy seemingly was about a head taller than most of the other guys around him, but he still was only one person.
The man sighed and took out earphones.
“Look bitch, you have two choices here, take it off and give it to me along your wallet, or I’ll break your face and just take it.”
Jack cracked his knuckles, ready for a brawl. Even hoping for it.
“What will it be, princess?” they seemed to laugh at the joke.

“You’re gonna share my jacket between five guys? I know you're a bunch of midgets, but are you sure it will fit you all?” the taller guy took out his other hand out of his pocket with a shimmering purple line wrapped around one of his fingers, which slowly uncoiled and fell to the ground disappearing. It would seem only Gilda noticed that, which caused her to bend forward, with newfound interest in the whole debacle.
Tall gun bounced his ball again, this time it seemed to weirdly grind at the ground before bouncing up.
Punk standing in front of him seemed to grind his teeth.
“Oh, I hope you have a fitting suit smartass, you’re gonna need it for your funeral.”
As soon as he said that, he tried to grab the ball that was in the air, but something rather weird happened, his arm suddenly twisted, alongside with his legs causing him to fall to the ground which the taller guy used to walk further and turn around standing now much more surely on his legs. The small spikes on his jacket's shoulders glowed in the dim moonlight as he grabbed the tennis ball out of the air with his left hand and changed his stance so that right side of his body was facing them, when with right he mimicked a motion of a cowboy reading for a duel and swatted the jacket away, while holding his hand with a ball there.
“All right then cocksuckers. I don’t have all night but I can give you what you are asking for! This is your chance to skedaddle out of here or you’ll witness the worst dick twisting in your life!” it was hard to say if it was a threat since his smile was shining brightly for the whole whole time he was saying that.

They were confused at first but soon enough one of them tried to step forward, Anon squeezed the tennis ball tighter and threw it, missing his head by a few inches to which the punk laughed and called him a dumbass. Anon didn’t move however, his stance still strong, but he did shift his right arm to be now in front of him, in a bit of a guard, his left arm still near his belt.
As soon as the punk stepped near his fallen comrade, his body suddenly sprung back, backhanding him with a forced motion and knocking him down, then falling back down again. Seeing that Anon raised his chin higher.
“Well? Who’s next? Two down, three more to go.” Anon traced a small semicircle as he started walking towards the right, watching the remaining punks with a sly grin on his face, trying to make his pace unpredictable.
They didn’t seem to care however, all three suddenly rushing him, no doubt trying to avenge their beaten up colleagues. This time Anon had to shift his stance, to something more brawl ready. Blocking up one of the swings and dodging the second one, sadly the third one still caught him in the stomach, making him sway backwards a bit.

Gilda followed the tennis ball he threw with her eyes, it missed sure, but it was still somehow weird, with how it took out Blue.
Landing squarely in the gutter, the bottom part of it, and disappearing in it for way too long. She turned back to the fight and observed how knocked out Blue seemingly had a spasm and twisted back up, hitting Jack square in the jaw. He didn’t get to use his fighting style he trained so hard.
Gilda took another whiff of her cigarette, watching the punch in the stomach the guy just suffered. He did seem to quickly retaliate with a kick in the shin. Though it wasn’t very effective as probably most of the combat boots wearers from the town met up here and decided to brawl.
Another punch, this time Anon countered it by grabbing the arm and punching his opponent in the face, then took another few steps back.
Suddenly a loud ruckus came out of the gutter and the tennis ball flew right back towards them, with impressive speed soon hitting one other punk in the back.

The shirt on his back seemingly whirled itself, forming a circular pattern, which followed to the back of his neck, as the spinning tennis ball was held squarely on his back, seemingly defying physics in still sticking to him.
The punk’s body twisted and his spasm caused him to hit his friend in the face with both of his hands. Soon after that, the motion stopped and his body seemed to unwind, but the motion still held up, now hitting the second one in the face. Knocking all three to the ground.
With that Gilda pressed the burning end of her cig to the stone and got up. Fixed up her pilot jacket and gently patted the feathery collar on it.
“Cool show Dweeb.” she observed as the guy picked up his tennis ball from the ground. “Name’s Gilda, and from what I’ve seen so far, you have the same type of ability as I do.”
Her hair was much shorter than Anon’s, but they seemed to start moving on their own as the golden-purple aura surrounded her, same went for the feathers of her collar and the loose hanging end of a belt she had. Few sparks flew up, forming a shape with a burst of hot air and flames, sharp edges formed into a metallic creature with a somewhat birdlike design. Golden claws on the arms and a feathery collar were still present, alongside a part of wings that seemed to form something more akin to a cape.

Her mouth formed a sharp grin as the mixture of purple gold and silver pointed at Anon, as she put on a pair of yellow, fingerless gloves and cracked her knuckles.
“Oo, this will be interesting.” stretching his right arm towards her, as dozens of purple, shimmering lines formed all going towards the floor and scattering in various directions.
Soon enough a purple glow followed and his hair also seemingly started moving in an invisible breeze. A nebulous mist left the arm which quickly took the shape of a cloaked, figure with a face looking more like a bronze statue of a bearded man, clock looking more like a night sky, most of the head covered by a roman looking helmet, similar to the one centurions wore, made out of red material. The Plume however, instead of being made out of hair, seemed to be made out of wires forming a similar shape, with small chains hanging off them, on which small stars made a shape of constellations. Ever shifting. The arms and chest seemed to be covered in ornate armour, barely visible under the nebulous cloak.
Anon plucked one of the threads from his hand and dropped it to the ground.
“Let’s see now” the figure grabbed another thread as Anon squeezed the tennis ball in his hand tighter.

||/=To be Continued=>