Subkulture Paranoia (open)

People were shuffling around, typical day in and day out stuff. Ethan had gone to the mall today for a few simple things, some pants and some shirts mostly but nothing out of the ordinary. Hefting his school bag over his shoulder, the level headed and even tempered teenager evaded and navigated his way around groups of people trying to get into the only west forty nine clothing store in the entire city which he didn't like, but they were just about the only people that sold sturdy pants that fit him.

Dancing around one last patron of the mall, Ethan stepped into the store, various bits of clothing and even skateboards lined the shop. While not a skateshop in that it only exclusively stocked boards, the store was still popular with the occasional group of morons who thought that bashing their heads off the concrete, was a fun pastime. So it came as no surprise that he had to go past such a group of stereotypical block headed board jockeys.

They were huddled around a display of boards, practically drooling over the terrible graffiti artwork most designers favored for boards most of the time. It was of no consequence to him, he didn't skate. But these guys were blocking his way forward, towards the pants and quickly did he let out a rather irate sigh. Everyone turned their heads to him, grinning and chuckling like morons as he took in a deep breath. "Would you move, please. Some of us would like to actually buy things, instead of you know, gawking at them?"

Two of them moved out of the way at least, enough for Ethan to squeeze through, get to the back of the shop, grab two pairs of pants and one spare belt and get back to the clerk in record time. Tossing everything down on the counter, Ethan moved away a few feet, grabbed at least two or three t-shirts and tossed em all into the pile on the counter and reached for his wallet. It wasn't there.

Ethan did a casual double take and looked up, the group was gone; they had stolen his goddamn wallet. Few things really managed to get Ethan angry, stealing his valuables was one of the few that managed to get him incredibly irate. The clerk stared at him, impatiently tapping her finger on the counter before opening her mouth. "You gonna pay for this or what?"

Ethan looked at her for a second, took a deep breath and retrieved one of his cigarettes. A group of people were about to learn what pain really, truly felt like. "I shall pay for it, but first, I have to find someone that...borrowed my wallet without my knowledge," Turning on his heel, Ethan calmly walked out of the store, grabbed a match and struck it against his coat. Placing match head to cigarette tip, he inhaled a large puff of smoke and walked on. Those punks were dead.

It didn't take him long to find the five morons sitting around a table in the food court, eating hamburgers and fries. Quietly, he stepped up beside the group and casually, he knocked a soda into some guys lap. Almost at once all five got up like lightning, as people nearby looked onward in stunned silence and shocked apprehension.

"What's the big idea asshole?! Trying to pick a fight with us?" The leader of the group barked at Ethan, spraying a mouthful of partially chewed fries into his face as he stood there and blinked. Ethan actually held out his hand and looked the man straight in the face, "I believe you have something of mine, and judging by your lunch, you spent some of it. Give it back or I take it back, I don't like trouble and you shouldn't either," staring at the man, he watched the smug little board jockey crack a smile and lean in real close, actually going out of his way to pinch one of Ethan's cheeks, giving it a shake as if he were still a little boy. "What can one malnourished looking punk do against five of us, eh? Beat it, or you're gonna leave on a stretcher, ya punk."
They wanted to play rough, they wanted to cause trouble, fine. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, Ethan blew a nice thick cloud of cigarette smoke into the air and sighed. "Why is it that everyone, I meet happens to be either incredibly stupid or, well, I guess it's just incredible stupidity," he groaned softly as he snapped out with a right jab, catching the man once on the chin and causing him to stumble back, before following through with a front snap kick, drilling his foot into the man's chest, blowing him off his feet and into the tables behind them.

Now people were either taking pictures, trying to get a security guard, or just plain old gawking in stunned silence at how far the guy was knocked backwards. As he brought his foot down, Ethan came around, driving his elbow into the skull of one of the still seated men. The force of the blow threw the man to the ground, groaning in pain at what must have felt like ringing church-bells in his belfry. In reality, the group didn't even get up from their seats, as Ethan as quick as ever, delivered lightning fast, cheap shots to each one.

They were slumped in their chairs or on the ground in agonizing, head splitting pain as Ethan grabbed the board jockey by the collar of his shirt, hoisted him off the table like a ragdoll and forced him onto his knees. "Some people are just naive or simply don't think things through when they do them. But, you and your friends however? You are made of stupid," with a simple little grunt, Ethan fired a heavy handed haymaker into the guys face, his knuckles smashing into the bridge of his nose and shattering the bone. Knocking the man out cold.

Now Ethan had to deal with all the....unwanted attention he was getting, not to mention the rapidly approaching rent-a-pigs. To think, all he had wanted to do today was buy some clothing and yet, somehow, trouble managed to find him once again.

Ethan was surrounded by a small crowd of people, some applauding him, some taking pictures in a 'you won't believe what I just saw happen at the mall, but I took pictures to prove it' way. Taking another long drag off his cigarette he bent down to pick up his wallet when someone spoke up, causing the apathetic looking young man to look up at the women and sigh. Questions, why did it always have to be questions? Ethan wasn't in the mood for this, was never in the mood for this stuff and almost always after trouble came his way, questions soon followed.

"Why? if I must ask, why do you want to know," he asked quizzically, taking another satisfying drag off his cigarette before blowing a thick gray puff of smoke into the air. He looked back at her, his face laced with disinterest in the situation that was slowly starting to die off. "But if I really have to answer your question, they stole my wallet. I don't like it when people swipe my stuff,"

One of the men had gotten his senses back while Ethan was preoccupied with the women before him, asking her twenty questions bit in response to the fight. The subtle sound of a switch blade being released from it's confines was barely audible, quiet and mostly noiseless to all but the man who had sprung the blade. Ethan felt the blade punch through his jacket, the steel glinting in the light like a silver flame with murderous intent and he flinched, or rather, straightened his posture as the blade was withdrawn before turning to the man who felt it was oh so appropriate to stab him.

"That hurts you know," Ethan grunted with a hint of a rasp, his hands snaking out and grabbing the man by the wrist and neck, lifting him clear off the ground before slamming him quite harshly, through one of the tables in the span of what must have been fifteen seconds. "I take what I said about you guys being made of stupid back, calling you stupid is practically an insult to the stupid people out there."

Ethan wasn't normally violent, in fact almost all of this has been in retaliation in one way or another for something they did to him. First they stole his wallet, spit food in his face and laughed about it. They got the holy living hell kicked out of them. Then this guy had to get up and stab him, so of course he got plowed, appropriately, through a table.

Ethan looked at the hole in his jacket, less than amused at the damage done to it instead of the intrusive hole in his body. The wound itself was starting to clot up, or at the very least, the bleeding was slowing down to a light trickle. At the mention of medic he shook his head, "don't need a band-aid," he stated rather bluntly as he took the jacket off, tossing it across his shoulder with a sigh. Today was going to be one of those days.

Marching his way over to the wallet on the ground, Ethan bent down and picked it up and checked the contents. Eighty bucks left, goddammit, he was barely gonna be able to buy a new part of pants, let alone some extra shirts. Yeah, Today was definitely going to be one of those days, which was all he needed, especially when he was running out of cigarettes.

"Oh, you're one of those hero types, you guys are magnets for trouble. Great," he wasn't at all enthusiastic that he had to run into another one of those titan mokes which was doing no favors for his irritability and overall annoyances. "Mind buggering off now? I don't wanna get caught up in a fight between a hero and a crook today, thank you very much. I've fought enough today."

All he wanted to do today was go and buy some more clothing, maybe grab a bite to eat, but no, never for Ethan, not when assholes exist in large quantities and seem to always ruin his day or week in some manner; getting mugged, having his pockets picked, Et cetera, Et cetera. It's a surprise he hasn't fried anyone more at the very least, hospitalized someone with grievous bodily harm. But he got most of his money back today, beat the everliving hell out of the people who took his wallet and intends on buying a new pair of pants and maybe go to a seamstress to repair his jacket. Well at least to him, that sounded just about right.

"Like sticking a fork in an electrical outlet. Could've fried himself doing that," Ethan stated with a whisper as he turned around, giving one more look at the group of people that he had absolutely mangled with his bare hands. Those that had come too, were more than terrified of the unassuming figure and those that didn't, only amounted to one person; the one Ethan had unceremoniously through one of those food court tables. If someone experiences in medicine were to exam him, they'd find numerous fractured ribs, a broken femur and several hairline fractures in his left and right arms.

Ethan had done quite a number on the poor guy, and he didn't even use his actual powers at all. Just his unnatural strength.

Wonder what Jinx is doing right now... Should really make a note of trying to find her soon, I really only know of a few places in Jump. Excluding the mall here, that is, he thought with an exasperated sigh as he kept on walking away from his problems. "I wonder if today could get any worse off then it already is," he stated to no one in particular, the stab wound on his back had, by now, stopped bleeding completely and was slowly in the process of closing itself up which was always a discomforting sensation that itched and tingled while it happened. The one thing Ethan didn't like about himself, and it just so happened to be the one thing that kept him very much alive and very much healthy.