In the shrouded confines of a dimly lit alley, with the night sky gently weeping snow, stood Spacedawg. Alone, he took a moment for a long drag from his joint, the glow briefly illuminating his rugged features.
“Damn it, Ed… I really didn’t need this… Especially today… @#$!, I told you I didn’t want a @#$! Party!” Spacedawg’s voice was a blend of frustration and resignation, echoing softly against the cold, brick walls.
From the shadows, a voice emerged, playful yet piercing. “You’re pissed at Ed?… For being an asshole or wanting to make your birthday a happy occasion?” Fyr Ond teased, stepping into the dim light, her breath visible in the chilly air.
“I’m alone in this world,” Spacedawg muttered, almost to himself, a plume of smoke swirling up into the night.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Spacedawg! It’s unbecoming. Perhaps you should get something from the Alchemist,” Fyr Ond suggested, trying to inject a bit of levity into the heavy atmosphere.
“Na, I’m feeling a little restless. I need to break something, cut down a damn tree,” Spacedawg declared, his voice growing firmer, signaling a desperate need to unleash the pent-up aggression boiling within.
As he clenched his fists, a storm brewing in his stance, Spacedawg’s frustration was palpable. “Need… a damn fight…” he growled, stepping forward, determined to find an outlet for his rage.
The snow continued to fall, seemingly softer now, as Spacedawg ventured deeper into the night, his determination leading him into a dangerous part of town.
“This’ll do…” he murmured, his eyes scanning the shadows for trouble.
Trouble found him soon enough. A group of menacing thugs blocked his path, their leader stepping forward with a malicious grin. “How about you hand over your belongings there, sir.”
“It’s my @#$!ing birthday,” Spacedawg replied flatly, the irony of the situation not lost on him.
“I don’t @#$!ing care if it’s your birthday. Now hand over your valuables, Birthday Boy,” the Ring Leader demanded, his men laughing mockingly.
“You’re making me angry,” Spacedawg warned, his voice low and dangerous.
Undeterred, the Ring Leader fired a warning shot at Spacedawg’s feet, but the action only served to strip away any remaining restraint. “Your funeral,” Spacedawg muttered, pulling out his axe and lowering his hood to reveal his non-human features. “Why don’t you fight me like a real man?”
What followed was a blur of motion, Spacedawg moving with a predator’s grace, his axe a deadly extension of his will. The snowy alley became a battleground, the thugs utterly outmatched.
As the last of his adversaries fled, Spacedawg stood victorious amidst the chaos, a strange calm enveloping him. Lighting up another joint, he began his trek home, the snow still falling gently around him.
Sensing a presence, Spacedawg found Davy Ridgeway
Biographical Information Name: Davy RidgewayOccupations: Journalist, Musician, Culinary EnthusiastSpouse: Diane RidgewayResidence: Washington D.C., United States Overview Davy Ridgeway is a prominent figure in Washington D.C., known for his deep Irish roots, journalistic integrity, and musical talent. Born into a neighborhood dominated by Irish immigrants, his life is a rich tapestry of cultural heritage, musical innovation, and journalistic bravery. With a... lurking in the shadows. A moment of camaraderie passed between them as Davy stepped forward, extending a small, wrapped gift. “Happy birthday,” he said, a genuine warmth in his voice.
The night’s aggression seemed a world away as Spacedawg, Davy, and eventually Captain Ed reconciled outside their lair. Together, they left the chaos of the night behind, stepping into the warmth and safety of their sanctuary, united once more.
