Gabriel Moriarty watches from the sideline of a training ground, his purple eyes in awe as he watches his father teach his older brother how to fight. He admires and looks up to his brother,
The training ground was massive as it was behind the mansion of their home; it was cement on the ground as the floor, 50 feet by 50 feet, with flowers around; the mansion was big with bricks but those beige color.
The property was surrounded by trees with an open field, the training ground.
A big pool, 70 feet by 60 feet, was nearby. James was a rich man, and though Gabriel questioned him about his wealth, he always dodged the question.
"Move your legs," James Moriarty said to his oldest son, who seemed irritated by how his son clutched his hand tightly and clenched his jaw. He saw every flaw in his oldest: emotions and anger.
The oldest son, Theodore Moriarty, shifted his weight, the balls of his foot pressing into the ground as he feigned a punch, a subtle feint to draw his father's block. Theodore channeled his momentum downwards when James's arm moved, planting his lead foot more firmly. In a fluid motion, he launched himself into a Webster front flip.
Unlike a standard front tuck, Theodore's legs split slightly as he went airborne, his chest lifting high to initiate the rotation. His back arched, creating a sense of explosive power. As he flipped, his legs scissored in the air, driving his heels upwards towards James. It wasn't a kick aimed straight forward but rather a dynamic snapping motion backward and up, maximizing his height and the surprise of the maneuver.
James, however, was well-versed in his son's unorthodox techniques. Anticipating the leg strike, he shifted his block downwards, intercepting Theodore's high-reaching legs. He secured one of Theodore's legs mid-air with a swift, practiced grab. The momentum of the flip worked against Theodore as James, using his fatherly strength, pivoted and ruthlessly threw him to the side, disrupting the flow of his aerial assault.
"Damn it," Theodore muttered as he looked at his father, who stood there calmly. His eyes showed a flash of anger, and his breathing was a bit heavy. His father adjusted the sleeves of his button shirt.
"When fighting, be calm. Think before you act. You acted too quickly, but changing your momentum was good that last second," James said to Theodore, who nodded slightly. Happy his father praised him, he walked up to Gabriel, who looked at him with awed eyes. Theodore crouched down to Gabriel's level.
"I'm going to be like you one day! But better!" Gabriel said excitedly. Theodore smirked as he ruffled Gabriel's black hair, and his smile widened.
"Oh, yeah? I want to see you try," Theodore responded, looking at his young brother.
James Moriarty had white hair and blue-piercing eyes, and his two sons, Theodore and Gabriel, had purple eyes. Theodore was sharper and more calculating, while Gabriel was innocent, as Gabriel was only five years old.
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In a dark Alley, a man was running, his black mask soaked in water as it was raining badly. The sky flashed as thunder cracked.
The man's eyes showed fear as he ran, his right hand gripping his left hand, which was bleeding, and a knife was jagged into his arm; he ran but tripped and fell hard on the cement, his face planted hard on the ground, splashing on the puddle of water.
Then, a blue butterfly gently landed on the man's hand. His yellow eyes widen in fear as he quickly tries to get up, but a painful weight slams on his right leg. He turns to see those purple, cold, piercing eyes, a person dressed in all-black attire. His face has a mask, but the only thing is those eyes.
"Are you Going somewhere? " the person said coldly. In his right hand, the person held a sword stained with dried blood being washed off by the rain. He held a Glock with signatures he couldn't understand in his left hand.
"P-PLEASE!! I-I HAVE A F-FAMILY!" The man begged, but the person coldly responded.
"What about the people you killed... did they not have families as well?" The person said as he gently tapped the end of the blade on the man's back, those cold purple eyes staring at the man, showing devoided of emotions; the person was 5'2 tall.
"Please! I'm sorry I a." The man couldn't finish as his end went flying and, with a Thud, landed down; the rain cleaned the blood that was sprayed everywhere. There was no smell but the rain.
The person turned around and walked away calmly. He took out his phone and scrolled until he found the phone number and name of the contact, 'cleaners.'
"One dead... Alleyway between the..... Hotels of Europa Grand Hotel and Cork & Cask." The person hung up and walked away into the dark.
Walking out of the alleyway, a car was there; the person entered the passenger seat and entered.
"Gabriel, I told you... to wait." Theodore, a taller and leaner 22-year-old with silver hair and piercing purple eyes, was in the driver's seat.
Gabriel took off his mask, his black hair messy and wet. He threw the mask in the back and threw his weapons into the back, taking off his black gloves. "If I did... he would have escaped... the man paid us for his death not to play," Gabriel, ten years old, lean and cold, said as he looked at his brother, who was focused on driving.
"That doesn't mean you chase after that man... Tsk." Theodore clenched the steering wheel hard as his eyes gave a glow of red, Theodore drove fast.
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>home of the Moriarty<