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My hopes, my dreams. My hopes, my dreams. My despare, and my demons. Take them for what you will, for they are my thoughts. And my thoughts are what makes me, me.


Angel Natavi
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Rose Maximili Natavi.
07/27/2006 Data Entry: The discovery.

Traffic. The most annoying part of city travel. Angel didn't know how to deal with it in a car, so he just walked to school. Normally, people wondered why he was called Angel, for the media had stereotyped it as a feminine role, but all he knew was that he tried to help as many people as possible, hense his nickname.

So, as the five foot eleven teen walked down the street to his college, his single strapped back pack slung over his shoulder, he heard some shouting and yelling in the background. It was coming from an ally behind the local bakery, so he was naturally curious. (Wouldn't we all be?)

As he rounded the corner, he saw two men slowly approching a lone female. He saw that she had a t-shirt with the logo of his school on it, which only compounded his drive to help.

He dropped his bag on the ground next to a drain pipe. Squaring his shoulders and generally making himself seem as imposing as possible, which he had been told is not hard, he stepped out into the entrenceway of the ally.

"You would do well to leave the lady alone." His voice was naturally deep, though by thrusting his adam's apple forwards, it deepened it sevearly, the deep rumble carrying far and echoing slightly in the ally.

Both of the men spun around to face their new attacker, allowing the girl to get into her purse for her pepper spray.

"Oh? And why might we do that?" (THis is of course, a translation from the horrible english that I cannot type out.)

"Because, if you do not, I will have to step in."

Angel lowered his head slightly, loosening himself up while the two men advance towards the only thing really standing in the way of their prey.




 
 
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