Raziel's Witness

Bench Area

Now, what we have here, is nice. There aren't many people around, the streets are quiet for once and the sun was warm yet out of sight.

Overall, a good day.

On this here bench sits a boy, a light breeze on a pilgrimage through the urban valleys ruffling his semi-brushed hair. Lazyness played a key part in his posture, a laid-back expression on a laid-back face. Both arms supported his body as it relaxed, a leg resting upon it's twin. Eyes hidden behind a pair of small, green-tinted sunglasses watched the withered clouds meander across the open skies. A smile, home to the emotion of content, spread along his face as the breeze massaged his slightly pale skin. His resting shoe tapped thin air along with the beat from a song he'd picked up on the internet. Roy enjoyed this kind of weather and began to doze a little.

On his lap sat a blue/green handheld device. The large monitor at the front showed a strange creature resembling a contorted bouncy ball. It was busy testing submitted tunes for it's owner's latest project. At least, that's what Bugman should have been doing.

<<Hey, I got some good news, matokan!>> he chirped, drawing Roy from his semi-concious slumber.

Emerging from his awkward dream, Roy peered down at the bright green face smiling at him.

"Mm? Oh. You found a... uh... good Doomsday remix?"

<<Yeah, kuchoin, ten minutes ago. But that's not it. I got bored and signed us up for some police mission thing. Y'wanna come, matokan?>>

Meh. He was bored too. And besides, he didn't even have to move.

"Well, if you want. Not like I have a choice anyway."

<<Alright, mitobay! Ooh! We should use this password when we jack in.>>

Situated at the centre of the bench ring was a waterproofed server doubling as a 4-way lamppost for night-time surfing. All the user had to do was point and click, which is what Roy did.

"I see. Ready? Password: HARBINGER. Jack-in, Bugman, Execute".
Bench Area

Third time. Third freaking deletion. Third moment when Roy's newest friend survived from the brink of deletion.

He'd tried. Tried to help, to save, to protect. Tried to be useful. But trying isn't good enough. Trying only takes you so far. You have to "do". And to do, you need to win. And to win, you need to fight. And fighting takes strength, courage, the will to throw yourself headlong into danger, the ablity to look on the bright side of life. That is what it takes to win. To be victorious. To not suffer.

To be wanted.

He looked down at his battered buddy, digital bruises marking the pink flesh and the odd cut in his clothes.

"Well, at least one good thing came from this. I found a Doomsday remix."

The bright side of life, eh? What a funny place it must be.
Bench Area

"Oh for the love of Khorne! I can't afford The Octagonal Box and The Blasted Crusade, but it will be mine! Bugman, to the frontlines!"


Bugman probably replied with another obscure, OOC videogame referance, but i'm being lazy.