As he proceeded on his walk down the pitch-black Streets of Honor city, James Heiden Shivered violently as another gust of harsh wind billowed around him. He curled into himself as best he could, but everything from his dark and tattered grey shirt, to his over-exposing cargo shorts, all the way down to his friction-singed converse shoes did nothing to shield him from the cold weather. As the sound of Thunder claps echoed through the sky, it was clear to the vagrant, that his troubles were only getting worst from here. “Just a little bit further down. N-not much longer to the Glenn.’ he thought in determination. James knew he needed to get to that neighborhood, soon. "How long have I been walking?' James thought bitterly, cringing from a strong gust of wind. 'I swear, that lady on the freeway said I should only a 15 minute walk from it."
Raising his left wrist, James sighed in exasperration as he struggled to make out the time of night on a tacky blue digital watch. 'Guess that egghead forgot people tell time in the dark.' James thought with an eyeroll. The thing was hardly his style, anyway. It was probably even geekier then the guy who dropped it at the gas station. It was covered in wires, with a oversized battery someone struggled against god to fit in there and had a large red button in the 6 O'Clock position. James thought it lit the watch up in the dark, but all it did was make an earsplitting noise. Life had been rough since his release. From getting kicked out of the halfway house, to spending the last few months wandering around town in the blazing sun, it seemed life was throwing him nothing but curve balls lately.
His luck had begun to change for the better, as after months of one rejected job application after another, James had finally got a bite earlier that day. On top of that, rumor had it that this neighborhood was recently abandoned, making it a squatter’s paradise. James hoped that the rumors were true, as he felt the first few drops of icy rain begin to fall. ‘Shit, hope this is legit.’ He prayed, as his jogging form began to blur down the street, in haste. As moisture continued to fill the air, James fumbled with the wrinkled sticky note, from his pocket. Gradually James slowed to a light jog, as he tried to match the home number to the correct house. “Dammit Thunder, I can’t tell if this says 79803, or 7-79808.” He said, through his chattering teeth. It was bad enough all the old man had to take the info. down with was a sharpie, but the old geezer’s chicken scratch was even harder for him to make out. That was before the rain even started. ‘I guess those hands are better used for boxing, as opposed to writing.’ James said through a light chuckle, as he looked at the houses, up the street.
“Okay, New belle Street, I’m at the “h-home stretch” now, hehehehe.” James joked aloud, through a sniffle. His legs were buckling badly, as the frosty air was causing his bones to ache. James could feel his eyes beginning to get heavy, as a yawn forced his way up his throat. ‘No, I’m almost there.” James said, shaking the sleep away. He had to hurry if he didn’t want to wake up with pneumonia in the morning, or worse; he could end up not waking, at all. “Let’s see, 79809, 79807, -805, aha, made it!” James Said victoriously, walking up a rather steep, and wide drive way. The homeless man couldn’t help but stare at just how exaggerated and monolithic the place looked, as he craned his neck to see it in its entirety. Even at the distance he currently stood from its entrance; The place looked massive. The house seemed structured to have two floors, but it easily looked tall enough to be 4 stories! However, as the early drizzle of rain sprinkled around him, the goal of shelter flooded back to the front of his mind. Gasping for breath as he jogged through the cold, making his way up toward the porch’s enormous steps, James remained perplexed at the size of the place’s colossal front door. “Christ Thunder, did you send me to spend the night at Shaq’s house?” James asked himself aloud, as he fished out a bobby pin from his back pocket. “ooh, shiny!” he said, letting out a whistle of surprise at the locks’ gleam. This place was supposed to be abandoned, but they seemed pretty new. They also seemed to be difficult to jimmy open. “Come on, come on!” James said, as after a bit of struggle, he heard that wonderful clicking noise of the locking mechanism.
Struggling to push the door inward, James was enveloped by a blast of warmth, as he stepped through; A welcome change to the outside’s frigid air. One of the first things James noticed was a steamy, vapory smell, permeating the place. It left James with the impression that perhaps a pipe might’ve broken somewhere in here. Setting his bag down by the door, the man was perplexed to see a monstrously oversized pair of lavender boxing gloves hanging from a hook, by the entrance. ‘Hmm, guess this was for a costume or something?’ James thought, in confusion. Also, it was instantly apparent that the house’s large structure was not just for show. There was a huge stair case, a short walk in front of him. Though with the kind of proportions this place suggested; He could imagine the hypothetical person this place would fit needing only a couple footsteps to reach it. The steps themselves seemed long enough to be work benches, and there seemed to be so many; They could probably take him up to heaven. A loud clap of thunder echoed across the sky, as the vagrant took a Peek around the oversized stairwell. The place had extraordinarily high ceilings, as if they were built with someone of excessive height in mind. The living room looked barren, almost empty. The only piece of furniture he saw was a TV on the floor, as well as a cartoonishly large wrap-around sofa. Maybe James was wrong about the hypothetical owner having money. This place looked house poor. “Broken pipes, unreal proportions, and barely any decor; No wonder they can’t sell this place. Still, it kicks the shit out a dirty ass homeless shelter. Let’s see if there’s anything to eat in this place.” James spoke, as he looked around for the kitchen.
On the second floor of the house, behind a closed bedroom door, a dark-skinned woman sporting an athletic physique, Destinee Parks, had been snoring soundly in her bed for the last 3 hours. She had fallen asleep in a single leather flat shoe, a black skirt, and a new white bra. Unfortunately, her sleep was interrupted, by the ringing of her nearby cellphone. With a groggy moan, she reluctantly opened her eyes to answer it. “Fucking hell, who’s calling my phone this time a night?” She questioned, wincing slightly at the residual pain in her ribs. With her tired eyes adjusting to the screen’s bright light, she slapped her head in frustration. “Oh crap, I forgot we were going to meet up tonight. “ She whined tiredly, As the name “Mighty - Mo” flashed on the caller ID, she wondered if she should even answer the call, however, Just like in the ring, she knew this woman was relentless. She’d bug her until she picked up, and yell her ear off later. She knew her pretty well at this point. The big lady was a monster on the mat, with a bulky, towering frame. She was like a caramel brick wall with slightly toned curves. ‘Might as well get it over with.’ She said, answering the call. “Hey Monique, what’s up?” She sighed, rubbing her throbbing head.
“Hey there, little princess; You ducking me, tonight? You know you were supposed to pay for this meal tonight.” A powerful voice asked, between what sounded like ravenous bites of food. “And miss out on my next mortgage payment? Screw that.” Destinee joked groggily. The two shared a laugh, as Mo’s messy chewing, and loud rumbling belch invaded her ears. ‘Lord girl, maybe I should’ve come along, could help work on your table manners.’, Destinee cringed in disgust. “Good to hear from you, girl.” She said, as she shook her head at that nickname. She was by no means “little”, but to be fair, People like Monique, and her dad, were the only ones that could call her that anyway. “Not at all Mo’, I didn’t forget. I fell asleep, as I was get-getting ready.” She answered. “Well shit, I was just calling to check. For a second; I thought I might’ve knocked you into a coma or something. I know I was a bit rough on you, at tonight’s match and all. Afterall, I warned you I’ve gotten good.” Mona said, slurping what Destinee knew to be a big tankard of strong Ale. Monique actually had five years on her, both in age, and fighting. Still, she was more of a wrestler, than a seasoned boxer like herself. Destinee was sure she could easily beat her., Oh, how wrong she was. The biggest surprise she got that night, was just how quickly the bigger woman adapted to boxing.
Sure, Mo’ still habitually made a few wrestling grabs and tackles, but her strength was unreal, perfect for those haymakers, and crosses she like for much. Though Destinee would’ve preferred someone intervene, as Mo’ tossed swung her around the ring. “I mean, I know you’re Big Storm’s favorite pupil and all, but you can’t get into the ring with me, and not expect me to put the paws on you.” Mona bragged over the phone, Cracking a large seafood leg over the phone. Destinee shook her head, at Mo’s cockiness, as she sat further in her bed, a move which sent pain through the right side of her ribcage. “Whatever girl, you still had to work for it. Oh, how’s that jaw? I take it it’s not killing your appetite.” Destinee scoffed, earning an audible gasp from Monique’s stuffed mouth.
“You know what, you need to go back to bed little girl, before I have to come over there and lay you out a second time, tonight. So, you wanna grab brunch with me, tomorrow?” Monique asked. “Yeah, I can do that, but If I’m paying for it, I’m picking the place. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mo’.” She said, with a grin. “Yeah, alright. Get you some rest, and I’ll see you, around 10:30. Have a good night.” Monique said. As Destinee was getting ready to end the call, she soon popped back upright at the sound of a dish breaking, in her kitchen. “What the hell?!” The woman whispered in shock. “Hey Des’, everything ok, over there?” Monica, questioned in concern. Destinee said noting, at first too spooked to speak. She quickly got ahold of her nerves, as she answered. “It’s n-nothing, girl. I gotta, um-gotta go check on something.” Destinee ended their chat with a click, pulling off the skirt and remaining heel she wore, before hastily pulling on some low-cut shorts, and a purple top, and slippers. After standing on her sore legs, to stretch out her full 7’7” height; she began making her way down the stairs, to investigate further.