Angeal glanced upward toward the sky, measuring the track of the sun as it headed west. Though this was a completely different world, at least time seemed to move similarly enough from what he’d quickly picked up over his long travels in this land. It was late afternoon and the crowds of the street were beginning to swell with those who were finished with their work for the day. Picking up odd jobs, it was easy enough to lose track of the time, but at least some things were consistent. The Soldier’s pocket was considerably heavier than it had been at the start of the day, thankfully – a day’s work to help keep things at their meager home on track.

Home. The word was odd on the forefront of his mind, and Angeal found himself trying not to think about it too much. He was avoiding Genesis, that much was obvious, but he couldn’t exactly form the words as to why. There were too many and too few, complex and simple. It was a confrontation long overdue, but the mental and emotional strength it required were … out of reach, at the moment. It was easier to leave early and spend all day working jobs around the city, and hope things were quiet and desolate by the time he returned.

Though he was lost in his own thoughts, the crowd naturally let the large Soldier through unbothered on his mindless trek. Gaze to the ground, seeing without really looking, he could have continued to drag his feet back to the shared apartment uninterrupted – if his hearing hadn’t picked up the shrill sound of a scream for help.

Angeal’s head snapped up to attention, easily dragged from his depressive thoughts as he instinctively pinpointed the source of the sound. He was without his sword for the day, having opted to do simple tasks around the city rather than taking on monsters on the outskirts, but he hardly needed it to help someone. His boots hit the pavement quickly as he broke out into a run, crossing one of the viaducts quickly, heavy footfalls echoing off of the buildings as he entered an alleyway.

Deep in the back streets, the Soldier found the source of the commotion. Nearly pinned between two burly men was a small young woman with an odd appearance, struggling against one holding her captive with a hand clasped over her mouth. Angeal grit his teeth, furrowing his brows as he stepped forward without a second thought. Typical street riff raff was the same, no matter the city or the world. He disliked all thoughtless violence, but there was something that particularly irked him about grown men taking advantage of their size to bully and abuse those smaller and weaker than themselves.

It was because of men like them that others initially looked at Angeal in fear when his presence wasn’t expected, rather than putting them at ease.

“Let her go,” the Soldier commanded, his tone hinting at the pain that was sure to come if they did not obey, “And come pick on someone your own size.”

Angeal could have easily charged forward and taken both men out without breaking a sweat – the two fools would hardly match up to a First Class Soldier – but there would hardly be a lesson there for them to learn.

In a perfect world, the two thugs would have taken one look at the First Class Soldier before them and backed down. Sadly, this world was as imperfect as any, and the two men merely eyed him as a challenge rather than a true threat. In their minds it was easily two versus one, even if Angeal himself was a large and intimidating figure. When they refused to leave the girl and take off, Hewley resisted the very powerful urge to roll his eyes and sigh.

They were lucky, perhaps, that he was a Soldier who specialized in hand-to-hand combat. If he were most Soldiers, the street thugs would be facing down a mighty blade capable and willing to rend them in two. Angeal was a much more merciful soul that believed in second chances, as much as others may not deserve them. Those high and mighty in their power typically only needed an ass kicking or two to get their acts together.

The man in front of the girl stepped forward, unsheathing a small knife from its leather case. The girl, meanwhile, stomped on the other man’s foot and made a quick, and likely temporary, escape. Well, that was as good a cue as any. Angeal rushed forward, his arms up to block the slash from the first thug’s knife. It struck his skin, a superficial wound that would heal easily with his enhancements, and at the man’s surprise Angeal threw a knee into his stomach, knocking the wind from him. As the man doubled over, one well placed strike with his elbow to the back of the man’s skull quickly sent him to the ground, unconscious.

Quick, easy, and hardly a fight worth having.

Meanwhile, the other thug had kicked the girl to the ground to prevent her from escaping. Closing the distance was easy enough for the Soldier, who took long, quick strides to catch up with the man. There was hardly time for the thug to release a surprised yelp as a boot landed to the back of his knee, followed by a quick strike to the head. Angeal caught the man before he hit the ground, easily lifting his dead-weight and tossing him on top of his unconscious scummy friend nearby.

Hewley sighed, turning his attention to the young woman. Her hand was on her head – she’d probably taken a nasty hit when she was struck to the ground.

“Here, let me give you a hand,” Angeal insisted, making her aware of his presence before he reached out to try and gently coax her up, “Are you alright? I think there’s a clinic nearby…”.