BLEED/HAVEN

[IX] ISAIAH

Isaiah arrived back to his room to prepare himself like Kenny directed. He dressed in his usual exploratory mission gear, a black windbreaker, underneath it having a bulletproof vest. Under his black joggers was padding of the same material while his feet of course donned his purple bottom Jets. He walked over to his closet to grab his backpack and make sure he had all of his gear inside. From the closet, he grabbed his utility belt and a few other articles to place in the bag.

Isaiah was checking his pockets for anything missing or that needed to be consolidated. While searching, his hand grabbed onto a familiar metallic object. He stopped his rushed routine and paused, pulling his signature mask from one of the pockets and staring at the mildly worn stitching of the Devil Tongue. It brought back memories, he let his backpack slip out of his grasp and back onto the floor while he backed up and sat on the edge of his bed. His fingers began tracing the outline of the print out of sentiment and he began to reminisce about the origins of the mask. Back to the days when he was a part of the New Haven faction that dominated the east side. It also reminded him of when he first met Kenny, who was part of a rival group. The first exchange they ever had was in a correctional detention facility after a raid between their factions.

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A few years prior...

Isaiah was sweating, his hand holding the back of the man's neck while his wet forehead was pressed against the male's. The small group of prisoners cheered and chanted for the two to finish fighting, hurry up and kill each other before the guards came to finally break them up. The man he was fighting was tired as well, his arm around Isaiah's neck as well to maintain some kind of leverage. The two had been wrestling for the past few minutes, legitimately trying to kill each other. Isaiah had a few cuts and bruises, along with his lungs wanting to explode, and he could say that his opponent likely felt the same by how he appeared.

On the grey tiled floors were puddles of sweat and blood drops. Isaiah grit his bloodied teeth and went right back in. He took both his hands around the man's head and swung him to the right and into some of the wooden tables, causing loud crashing and the man to stumble. Isaiah used this moment to trip the guy up and mount him as he fell. Without a moment to spare, he began beating the guy's face in with his swollen fists, only to be flipped around in a matter of moments and be punched in the face as well. Isaiah somehow managed to kick the man off of him, sending him stumbling back. He looked up to see that he had broken the man's nose and smiled, the crimson oozing down his ragged, grey shirt. The man yelled and ran to attack Isaiah again, he braced himself, but then the alarm bells started ringing and the guards came in and took everyone away and placed them back in their cells.

That was the first time we met..

The next few times they met, they simply ignored each other, sat across from one another during their food periods due to their organizational numbering and exchanged different foods at times. Eventually, they learned to conversate with one another and eventually relate to a few things. Many things in fact. One day they were eating lunch and spoke briefly on why they joined the factions they were in,

"I'm just tryna bring peace for me and my girl is all. The economy is one track minded and if you're born in one class, there's almost no chance to rise. Unless you're an idiot and go join Roakon or something. If you weren't born a colonist you're screwed. The only thing worse is to have Rampancy. I joined the Exemplars because they're trying to bring order, but honestly.. I'm having my doubts about the real motives. We just don't seem to be going anywhere or doing anything. We're trying to bring peace, to get Roakon to stop dividing us by class and lying saying we will all be off world soon. But really, are we?"