[ a walk was all sonic wanted to take after a day of rigorous training. really, that was it. he had no ulterior motives when he finished exercising, showered thoroughly, then slip on equally tight street clothes that doesn't quite put his villain wear to shame, but it's close enough. another short jog would suffice, if he so chose, tying his hair up in a looser knot than usual, not feeling up to going through the motions of pinning it up for a fight.
even sonic had times when he'd rather take in the world around him, remind himself that there was more to life than just an endless battle. sometimes the world could be fascinating, especially when he's not lurking in the underworld, or out on a job to mindlessly murder and add to his endless supply of cash.
alas, all good things come to an end. for sonic, it's very abrupt, a flare of anger possessing him from the inside-out with just one thought: he still hasn't beaten saitama.
why did it consume his life? why did that stupid egghead have to waltz into his life and ruin everything he's worked so hard for? he was speed of sound sonic, for heaven's sake, one of the most feared villains of his time... and yet that caped baldy had to go and show him up with so little effort involved, flicking him away as if he were an annoying insect and nothing more.
he doesn't know when he started to run, blood thrumming loudly in his ears, pulse racing to keep up with the frustration that abruptly clouds his vision. it always starts like this, too, a thought turned sour and a wish to settle the nagging inside his chest, fueling him to seek out his prey.
this was stupid. the entire situation was ridiculous. his whole life surrounded on being the fastest, quicker than the blink of an eye. so why can't he ever see himself defeating saitama? a man who looked so bored with the world, so foolishly nonchalant with the power that was contained inside of him.
maybe that's what angered him most of all. the guy had so much and he was so clearly taking it for granted. he was playing hero—as a damn hobby of all things, like it was so easy to reduce his strength to that—but never looked like he was enjoying it all that much. at least sonic appreciated the thrill, the rush of having a fight, a good, hard struggle, one he could eventually persevere. that excitement was all he needed to keep going, to show off his skills and remind everyone how good he was, that they'd never amount to the person he'd shaped himself to be.
a pout reached his lips, sniffing once in annoyance when the haze lifted and he was back on track. there, he'd gotten it under control. no problem. just reason it out, bring back the reason why he was such a determined individual, then go in for the kill. it's much easier to continue onward with his mind cleared, flipping backwards and up onto the top of a apartment complex with little to no effort. it helps to propel him forward further, gaining momentum as he continues onward to his destination.
sonic has no real intentions on just busting into saitama's living quarters. not because he's considerate, but he's not even sure if the dunderhead is even home. there's no point in that, he wouldn't just sit there and wait for him to show up.
that's bullshit, of course he would. ninjas actively stay in the shadows and strike when a person least expects it, after all, and he doesn't wear the outfit or carry around a sword for any old reason. right now said weapon is unavailable to him, sitting back at home waiting for his return, though it's not unlike him to somehow conceal other smaller, sharper objects to fight with. he never went without backup, not unless he's tossed into jail.
as always, he's graceful in his landing, standing a short distance away from the building he'd been seeking out. sonic gets into a comfortable crouching position, squinting his eyes in an attempt to see if anyone was home.
no good. he might have perfect vision, but that doesn't mean he has the ability to zoom in and focus on things without aid.
—wait.
sonic leans forward a bit on the tips of his toes, trying to get a better look. when that's a futile effort at best, he changes his mind and hops even closer, craning his neck a fraction.
well he'll be damned. speaking of robotics, it looks like saitama's dumb guard dog was home, immediately sneering down at him as if he were nothing more than a pet, or a kitchen appliance. great, that isn't what he was looking for. if he wanted a big clunky sheet of metal, he'd look elsewhere, not at his rival's home.
sonic's just about to bid the toaster a silent farewell before something else catches his eye: the television. or rather, what's playing on it, the series of images his sharp eyes can surely catch in the proximity he's settled upon. a wide grin crosses his face when his ears definitely aren't deceiving him, finding this... hilarious? entertaining? overall it's just bizarre and something that's outside his usual interests, and he intends on seeking this game (hah, a good double-meaning) out while saitama isn't around. the only question is: will he be able to approach without the cyborg instantly trying to blast him off of the ledge?
... eh. he'll be able to dodge it either way, no problem. it's not like he'd be the one destroying that idiot saitama's apartment.
with cat-like movements that could match any invisible thief, sonic nimbly sneaks in and perches on the table seated just inches away from the teen (was he a teenager? sonic couldn't tell, couldn't care less even more). cocking his head to the side, he watches for about thirty seconds, tilts his head to the other side, and then: ]
I didn't know household appliances could get aroused.
no subject
even sonic had times when he'd rather take in the world around him, remind himself that there was more to life than just an endless battle. sometimes the world could be fascinating, especially when he's not lurking in the underworld, or out on a job to mindlessly murder and add to his endless supply of cash.
alas, all good things come to an end. for sonic, it's very abrupt, a flare of anger possessing him from the inside-out with just one thought: he still hasn't beaten saitama.
why did it consume his life? why did that stupid egghead have to waltz into his life and ruin everything he's worked so hard for? he was speed of sound sonic, for heaven's sake, one of the most feared villains of his time... and yet that caped baldy had to go and show him up with so little effort involved, flicking him away as if he were an annoying insect and nothing more.
he doesn't know when he started to run, blood thrumming loudly in his ears, pulse racing to keep up with the frustration that abruptly clouds his vision. it always starts like this, too, a thought turned sour and a wish to settle the nagging inside his chest, fueling him to seek out his prey.
this was stupid. the entire situation was ridiculous. his whole life surrounded on being the fastest, quicker than the blink of an eye. so why can't he ever see himself defeating saitama? a man who looked so bored with the world, so foolishly nonchalant with the power that was contained inside of him.
maybe that's what angered him most of all. the guy had so much and he was so clearly taking it for granted. he was playing hero—as a damn hobby of all things, like it was so easy to reduce his strength to that—but never looked like he was enjoying it all that much. at least sonic appreciated the thrill, the rush of having a fight, a good, hard struggle, one he could eventually persevere. that excitement was all he needed to keep going, to show off his skills and remind everyone how good he was, that they'd never amount to the person he'd shaped himself to be.
a pout reached his lips, sniffing once in annoyance when the haze lifted and he was back on track. there, he'd gotten it under control. no problem. just reason it out, bring back the reason why he was such a determined individual, then go in for the kill. it's much easier to continue onward with his mind cleared, flipping backwards and up onto the top of a apartment complex with little to no effort. it helps to propel him forward further, gaining momentum as he continues onward to his destination.
sonic has no real intentions on just busting into saitama's living quarters. not because he's considerate, but he's not even sure if the dunderhead is even home. there's no point in that, he wouldn't just sit there and wait for him to show up.
that's bullshit, of course he would. ninjas actively stay in the shadows and strike when a person least expects it, after all, and he doesn't wear the outfit or carry around a sword for any old reason. right now said weapon is unavailable to him, sitting back at home waiting for his return, though it's not unlike him to somehow conceal other smaller, sharper objects to fight with. he never went without backup, not unless he's tossed into jail.
as always, he's graceful in his landing, standing a short distance away from the building he'd been seeking out. sonic gets into a comfortable crouching position, squinting his eyes in an attempt to see if anyone was home.
no good. he might have perfect vision, but that doesn't mean he has the ability to zoom in and focus on things without aid.
—wait.
sonic leans forward a bit on the tips of his toes, trying to get a better look. when that's a futile effort at best, he changes his mind and hops even closer, craning his neck a fraction.
well he'll be damned. speaking of robotics, it looks like saitama's dumb guard dog was home, immediately sneering down at him as if he were nothing more than a pet, or a kitchen appliance. great, that isn't what he was looking for. if he wanted a big clunky sheet of metal, he'd look elsewhere, not at his rival's home.
sonic's just about to bid the toaster a silent farewell before something else catches his eye: the television. or rather, what's playing on it, the series of images his sharp eyes can surely catch in the proximity he's settled upon. a wide grin crosses his face when his ears definitely aren't deceiving him, finding this... hilarious? entertaining? overall it's just bizarre and something that's outside his usual interests, and he intends on seeking this game (hah, a good double-meaning) out while saitama isn't around. the only question is: will he be able to approach without the cyborg instantly trying to blast him off of the ledge?
... eh. he'll be able to dodge it either way, no problem. it's not like he'd be the one destroying that idiot saitama's apartment.
with cat-like movements that could match any invisible thief, sonic nimbly sneaks in and perches on the table seated just inches away from the teen (was he a teenager? sonic couldn't tell, couldn't care less even more). cocking his head to the side, he watches for about thirty seconds, tilts his head to the other side, and then: ]
I didn't know household appliances could get aroused.