Chris Andaya scared people. At 6’6” he was a gigantic mass of muscle. He was very dark, always wore black. That skin and his clothing created his aura. Those who knew him wondered if he might not even be human. Like smoke, he seemed to appear, then disappear.
The kind of work Andaya did was of the dangerous variety. If you needed to collect something from someone, or intimidate someone, or if you simply wanted not to see someone anymore, he’d perform that service.
Miles Kuroda had few friends because he grew up alienating everyone. Chris Andaya had few friends because he chose to cut ties with people. That, and the fact they were all somehow involved in career choices that had them disappear from time to time. But not with Chris’s assistance.
Andaya was loyal to his few friends. He would defend them to the death if necessary. He would help them move a couch, drink with them, give them rides to the airport, even help them move a body. He would accept no contract where the target turned out to be one of this kind of friend, but these friendships were few.
The nature of his work meant that Andaya moved frequently. His current residence was Mott Smith Drive, a quiet side-street. He’d awake each morning looking down on the famous red and yellow dome of Roosevelt High School. He’d graduated there under a different name, and none of his current group of friends had known him back then. That was when he’d reached his current height.
He’d played football for the University of Hawai‘i under that name as well. That was when he’d reached his current strength.
The last time he was known by that name, he’d done his military service. That was when he’d become lethal.
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Aloha #WriterSaturday, may the Easter Bunny bring you everything you’re hoping for. Today’s #WritingPrompt is
Use it to inspire a piece of writing, and then post that piece on your site and link back to me, or as a comment below. I would love to read it : )