echo.

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   As they dragged him away, Jason's mind raced with thoughts of his life. His parents, his home, and Mochi. Mochi's words of tough arrogance filled the weak boy's mind, sparking a tiny flame in his chest. Jason's fear slowly crawled into anger, and his face scrunched with frustration. The boy clenched his hands and nails into the arms of the men, shouting and screaming as he forced his hands to tear into the forearms and wrists of his captors. The sketchy men quickly let go, grunting in pain and anger. Jason rolled backwards, standing up properly and in a primal fighting stance. His fingers dripped with the blood of the men's forearms, and he didn't even bother to remove the tape as the men charged the young boy.

   Jason leapt to the left and out of the charging men's path, grabbing an old steel bar and crying out in anger before charging the two men, as the third was already gone in the gray sedan. The boy swung the thin but solid rusty bar upwards at the first slouched and injured man connecting hard with his rugged and old face, leaving a nasty series of cuts between his lips and his nose. Jason spun once, raising the bar and damn near jumping in the air as he shot the bar down onto the second man. It struck the back of the man's head and neck, cutting and leaving a bad bruise where it landed. The first man charged Jason, lowered down below his waist, grabbing the boy by his waist and running out into the open traffic. A car slammed into the both of them, throwing them both onto the right lane.

   The wounded Jason stumbled towards the attacker, tearing off the tape and shouted while slouching over the man laying on the street. He shouted in a primal fashion, stomping on the man's side. He huffed violently, stumbling into the next alleyway up, soaked and wounded. He continued onward to Mochi's shipping container home, to find somewhere to rest as he wasn't going to go back to his own place after that. He shook like a traumatized child, but walked forward with a primal confidence and bravery, with the knowledge that he wasn't a pushover anymore.

  After a few hours of walking and huffing, the exhausted Jason Smithen threw himself over the short brick wall that surrounded the abandoned docks, leaving streaks of blood amongst the small puddles that filled the cracks and crevices of the concrete and bricks. He shakily marched towards Mochi's shipping container home, banging his bloodied hand on the large steel door. The familiar dull and messy purple haired boy was a sight for sore eyes, after he opened the door and quickly wrapped himself around Jason, slamming the steel door behind him. Mochi ran the wounded boy over to his raggedy bed, laying him down and looking at the wounded mess that his lover was.