So I created a new hero,
The Purple Psychic, on virtue who is a member of
ASSA. This group is very much into role playing and as such a lot of people have made some very detailed histories of their characters. This is my first RP supergroup and so I'm sort of new to this. Anywayz, here's the first installment of
The Thoughts and Memories of Micah Levy who now has more background than Rox does.
"Sightless"
In the middle of the hallway stood Micah Levy, an average looking man. He was wearing an unorganized sunday dress, wrinkled pants and a distinctive reddish brown hair that was harldy combed at all. He seemed to be waiting for someone as he just stood there tapping his foot and humming some unrecognizable tune. A small child was standing there staring at his face. He had a look of disgust and also of curiosity while he stood there glaring ever so quitely. The man lowered his head in the direction of the child and then paused for a brief moment.
"Can I help you?" Levy finally spoke up after acknowledging that there in fact was someone there. The child was startled. He stepped back with his hands in his pockets and head ducked low, "How did you...?"
Levy raised his head a little and smiled. "I could hear you breathing. It's hard to sneak up on a blind man ya know," he said with a little laugh. He threw a long, straight cane that had been resting on the ground over his shoulder. There was an awkard silence for a few minutes. The child kept looking back and forth from Levy's eyes to the ground and back to his eyes. He seemed to want to say something but couldn't bring himself to do it. Finally, just before Levy was about to ask the child where his parents were the kid spoke up. "What happened to your eyes?" He asked still stepping back a bit as if the man would strike him for asking such a question. Levy turns his head toward a loud clang behind him and then begins to hear a drop of water hitting a pan and a room full of laughter.
<Begin flashback>
.
.
.
There a young version of Micah sits with his family at the table eating what little food they had money for. It was a rusty old shack with pans on the ground to catch the endless rain leaking through the ceiling. Micah's family and three others lived there with only one bathroom and one decently sized living area. It was cramped but it was their home. Micah smiles at his parents when suddenly the door swings wide open and Nazi Soldiers rush into the house. They grab both of his parents first and soon after everyone else around them. Then they take hold of Micah's wrist and drag him out of the door...
.
.
.
<Fades away as another memory comes forth>
.
.
.
Micah sits curled up in a corner in the only building he's known for the last 2 months. His body thin from little to no food. His flesh tearing away because of the brutal attacks from the Nazis. There he sits with his legs to his chest and arms wrapped around them all alone and scared for his life. Then a man stumbles towards him and sits down. Micah looks up at him. He was a dirty old man with a beard as long as his hair. The man looked as if he hadn't had a shower in years, which would explain the knots in his hair and the reaking odor coming out of his pores. The man was terribly blind and had tripped on Micah's foot. "I appologize, I can't see very well these days." Micah sat there staring at the ground not making any notice to the old man talking to him. "Are you alright?" noticing that he what he had stumbled on was a mere child. Again Micah doesn't say a word but just stares at a rusty nail protruding through the rotted wood floor.
"I'm sorry," he says again trying to muster up some kind of conversation. Micah still sits there unmoved. "You must be starved sitting here all alone. Have you eaten anything recently?" Micah finally answers with a very weak no. "Here I've been saving this piece of bread, it's not much but it'll help," said the man rustling in his pocket and pulling out a week old bread covered in dirt and hard as the nail Micah had been previously staring at.
The beat up little kid snatches the bread away and scarfs it down like he hadn't eaten in ages. Micah finally raises his head and looks up at the man and gives his thanks. The old man smiles with a content look, "You're welcome." There was yet another awkward silence. After rustling around for a while trying to get warm the old man finally spoke up, "So what's your name?"
"Micah," the young weak boy whispered. "Well, hello Micah," the man replied back. He faced away for a moment as something sounded in the background. "I don't really go by anything these days. Most just call me Stranger." Once again the boy smiled and felt happy for the first time since he was seperated from his family.
.
.
.
<Fades away again as another memory comes into view>
.
.
.
Micah and Stranger sit at a large table among hundreds of others fighting for their dinner like hungry, foul savages. A soldier, very strong in stature, walks by the captives with an overconfident strut and sees a half-eaten roll by Micah's hand. He snatches the piece of bread and devours it down like it were his own. Even though it wasn't much to him, to a prisoner it was like a full course meal. Micah imediately stood up with a stern but still frightened look on his face. His arms went flat against his sides as he yelled out, "That was mine!!"
The soldier glared down at him in complete awe, "Excuse me?" Micah took a deep breathe. Even though he was terribly frightened he stood up even taller and repeated, "That was mine! I saw you take it!" The soldier stepped up to the boy, towering over his head. He clenched his fists tight as a loud discerning crackle drifted over the dreary camp. "Oh did you now?"
Moments later Micah was lying on the ground screaming, his hands over his eyes. Stranger tried to help but the boy just kicked him off continuing to scream. Blood ran down his face and hands as Micah curled into a ball crying.
.
.
.
<End flashback abruptly>
The kid looks blankly up at Levy tugging at his pants, "Sir?" Startled Levy jumps and clenches his forearm tightly where a number tattooed into his skin is hidden under his sleeve. He then turned towards the child, "Oh, I'm sorry kid." He desperately thinks of an excuse so as not to bring back any more bad memories. "Uhh..." he said still searching for something to say "...too much T.V." The little kid looked him in disbelief, shook his head and ran off calling for his mom. Levy chuckled a bit and then asked a passing woman if she had the time. He again stood there as if he were waiting for someone that was never going to show.
