Maverick and Roll: (For The Villain)

At this time, Takeru was running for his life from a particularily drunk monster of a man.
So naturally, the obvious question is, why?
Well, he doesn't know.
And frankly,he had other things on his mind as he dove into concert hall nine, currently empty, and hid under a series of chairs.

For once in his life, he was glad he was small.
"Please don't let them find me... please don't let them find me... Isla spare ny soul..." He mentally prayed.

Maverick was drunk. A bit more drunk than he's used to, chasing after a kid. He couldn't remember exactly why he was chasing him. It could have been he may have accidentally stepped on his shoes, he may have said something Maverick didn't like, or maybe he just didn't like him. It didn't really matter. All he knew was he was going to beat the holy shit out of him when he caught up to him. He came to a sudden halt. "Get your ass out here. I CAN SMELL YOUR FEAR!!" He looked around, drooping across the sidewalk. He listened as carefully as possible.

Takeru held his breath for as long as possible until he couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm sorry everyone." He thought as what may have been his last breath come out softly out of his mouth.
From there, he closed his eyes, bunched himself into a ball to protect his vital areas, and waited for the end to come as he braced for the pain.

Maverick soon heard some whimpering. He looked under the concrete hall. "There you are you little piss ant!" He found the little scamper. He grabbed him and pulled him from under. He Lifts him by the shirt and shoves him back. It was dark out. No one was really around. No one to stop him. Maverick aimed a heavy punch to his stomach, his face, his arm, anywhere. His fighting wasn't nearly as refined as it usually was. He was still very much drunk, and there was a likely chance that all of his hits missed. "You fucking little....fuck..."

...
He was still alive?
He opened his eyes hesitantly to find himself (amazingly) intact.
However, he was still like a deer in headlights. Frozen in fear.
He didn't want to fight this guy at all, drunk or not.
So for now, he figured it was best to "play dead".
And swear that of he got out of this, to go and convert fully to Isla.
As well as to never drink alcohol.
(Guess which one he wouldn't keep.

Maverick gets more andad more dazed with each attack he gives. His vision becomes double and he starts hitting what he thinks is his opponent. His mind becomes lightened and his sincere dulled. He can barely feel his face. He was stumbling about. "Y-you fuggin piece of shhhhit. Imma fucc yu up."

Well,he was certainly drunk.
And something in Takeru told him that if he was sober, he wouldn't be breathing still.
Because by this point, his attacker was practically swinging at thin air.
At that moment, some evil thought crept into his mind, making him smile even as memories of him being beate up began to surface.
Normally, he'd never hit someone, but in this case, he was fustrated, and his opponent was so drunk he probably wouldn't remember.
So he decided to give in, just for a second, into his inner darkness.
"Heh. Brains beats Brawn every single time. You seem already on the way to sleepy-town. And while I don't like fighting...well, this is just an equivalent exchange of pain. Nothing personal." He said as he walked behind Maverick, and proceeded to deal a swift punch to the big guy's head to try and knock him out.
"Goodnight." He said.

Maverick felt a pain in the back of his head. It didn't hurt too much. Painful Yes. The main problem was that he was drunk. He was frail. The hit pushed him forward. He moved all about, taking a few more swings, before falling to the ground.

(Exit)

Takeru gingerly moved over to check the big guy's pulse after he had fallen.
"Good. Still alive. Sleep it off, man. He can get out of here in the morning, and he won't remember a thing. Hopefully." He said.

"Now to pray he doesn't wake up before I get out of here." He said as he prepared to walk off without a second glance.
But before he did so, he decided to quickly rifle through the man's pockets, and eventually found his wallet, and with it, an ID.
"Maverick McFarlane, eh? I'll have to remember that name." He thought as he replaced the wallet without taking anything else out of it. Sure he could do so, but it just didn't feel right in his stomach to do it.
He sighed.
Maybe he was too soft.
But for now,it was better to let a sleeping dog lie.

So he then walked off into the night without any further incident.
Exit. Sanity Levels: 85%

Maverick and Takeru failed to form a social link...