Starring:
Summary: Sometimes L.A. is hazardous enough without monsters in it…
Date It Happened: February 4, 2002
Log Title Chase, Collision, Challenge, and Gone
Skid Row
Even for Matt, not all luck is bad luck, and sometimes, just sometimes, that Montana hometown teenage charm can work out for him. Wide eyes, that little touch of desperate, that little taste of hungry, untold sad story… and the right tourist. Ten bucks. After thank yous and restrained sincerity though, thats about when that luck runs out for the teen.
Matt looks down at the bill in disbelief for quite a moment, sliding the paper against itself between fingers a lot cleaner than the soiled rags he's wearing and calling clothing. But he isn't the only one paying it attention. A pair of older down and outs crane their neck in his direction and begin to shuffle over his way. With a plastered on smile and a heavy dose of false brotherhood, the taller one calls out: "Hey, kid! Ain't seen you 'round here in a few days." A sentiment that Matt only acknowledges with a nod, and a turn as he begins to walk down the side walk shoving the bill in what is left of his jacket pocket. They follow.
Greg walks down the fourth street sidewalk, taking in the atmosphere of lived in cardboard boxes and panhandlers in stride. A slight smirk creeps up his face as he observes Matt and his new 'friends' walking in his direction. However he quickly focuses on the task at hand and dips into an alley on his right hand side, he moves so that a large refrigerator box blocks anyones view of him from the street and raps his knuckles on the box.
Slow walking becomes slightly faster walking. A quick glance over Matt's shoulder confirms he still has company, and faster walking becomes even faster walking, becomes a jog, becomes a sprint. Matthew has some speed on him, but his bulk doesn't let that speed translate into grace, and this environment really doesn't lend itself to track practice. People are bumped into, signs, boxes, cigarette bins are knocked on their sides. Eyes turning to the ally, Matt nearly trips as he turns a hard to duck into it. Too bad Greg was out of site or Matt might have tried to prevent the collision course he's heading in for him and the aforementioned box.
A hand sticks out of the end of the box facing the wall and Greg slides his palm over it before standing up nonchalantly just in time to see Mat running straight into his homeboy's home. "Aww… fu.." He manages to get out before Matt hits the box. In a flash a wizened older looking black man pops up out of the box and starts sprinting for the street. Greg calls out after him, "Hey, man, it's all good no heat!" But the sprinter quickly turns a corner and is gone before Greg even finishes talking. He rounds on Matt now, eye's blazing. "What the hell do you think you were doing there kid?"
Not nearly as reckless as Matt, peopel following him round the corner soon after as Matt is still picking himself up off the ground. The impact tripped him and he rolled over a time and a half. Seeing Greg, though, they take a step back and continue to move on down the street. "Just keepin' what's mine, mine." Is Matthew's answers as he begins to work himself upright. His mouth begins to open into an appology, but when he sees the anger in Greg's, it shuts steadfast, and his own face hardens.
Greg opens his mouth to say something, but his eye's flicker to the upturned refridgerator box the black man made his escape from and he starts moving towards the street. "If I wasn't such a nice guy I'd have you biting concrete for this, kid." He pauses halfway down the alley as the kids pursuers round the corner. "What the hell do you crackheads think you're doing, get the hell out of here before I show what I do to fuckin fiends."
The threat towards Matt is met with silence, though the hairs on the back of his neck do begin to stand on end and there is a deep rumble in his chest. That abruptly stops when Greg barks off the guys chasing him, the challenge is turned away from him, and Matt finds his way totally to his feet. The earlier apology manages to make it to his lips finally and as the hairs on his neck lay down, Matt answers in quick words, careful: "Sorry man, didn't see ya."
Those two were looking for an easy target with no repercussions. Greg, not appearing to be a homeless out of towner runaway, doesn't fit the bill. They move on with a bit more haste after his ultimatum.
The threat towards Matt is met with silence, though the hairs on the back of his neck do begin to stand on end and there is a deep rumble in his chest. That abruptly stops when Greg barks off the guys chasing him, the challenge is turned away from him, and Matt finds his way totally to his feet. The earlier apology manages to make it to his lips finally and as the hairs on his neck lay down, Matt answers in quick words: "Sorry man, didn't see ya."
Greg continues to stare down the pair of vagabonds until they're out of sight, at Matt's words he whips his head back and almost snaps at the kid again. "Well you just managed to completely fuck my game up kid." He leans against the graffiti covered wall and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it and takes a couple puffs, "I'd avoid this alley in the future, there's an equal chance that he'd come out of that thing with a shotgun."
"Shotgun?" Matt asks. Not in disbelief, not out of fear, but more out of… amusement? "A shotgun is probably the least frightening thing I've had to worry 'bout sense gettin' into town." Even though Greg's rile is turned on him again, his response isn't quite a predatory as it was a moment before. He also turns towards the ally's exit as if to leave. His first step is fine, but when he puts his weight down on his right foot, he winces and it gives a bit. "Damn-it." he curses under his breath behind the pain, and leans against the opposite wall from Greg. "Whatever I messed up." he apologizes again, as it looks like he won't be able to make quite a smooth exit as he planned on. "Sorry, but I wasn't about to let those two stomp me."
Greg chuckles, "Oh, big man, of course you're not scared of a streetsweeper, not till it's jammed down your throat." He takes long hard drags on his cigarette, eye's flickering from Matt to the box. "Listen man, this alley is not going to be a chill spot for long. My whip's not too far from here I'll give you a ride to the hospital or… wherever." He says, starting to talk faster now. He pulls out his cigarette's again, tossing his still burning butte against a wall before retrieving a fresh one and lighting it. "Want a square man?"
The mention of a hospital puts an odd twist on the kid, like a dog being told he's going to the V-E-T. He doesn't like the wound of it. Matt puts pressure on his foot again, cringes a bit, but stands on it anyway. "Thanks man, but no." is the answer, one answer to both question. A few more steps and he cringes lest with each one, but even after several the limp is obvious as he's headed out towards the street again. "But I'll get the hell outa here, and I wont bother your box buddy again."
Greg nods and watches Matthew limp off down the alley, waiting or him to dissapear into the beggar ridden streets before he pulls out his cell phone and makes a call.
