1 Outcast

Gunther was described by one word. Untrustworthy. He grew up on the streets constantly searching for food, he was abandoned by his parents at the age of six and the only thing he knew how to do was survive. He thought that him being a little kid would get him some pity but oh was he mistaken. He'd walk up to strangers on the street and ask if they had bread to share, but they'd simply turn a blind eye. He had nothing to do with them so why did they have to care if he lived or died? It's survival of the fittest as they say, you look out for yourself and nobody else or you'll get caught dead.

Gunther Ashman, 19 years old and currently stalking a rich businessman to wherever he's headed. Rich people go to rich places, and this was a golden opportunity for a young theif like himself. See, Gunther was never given anything in his life, if anything at all it was really taken away from him. So close but always out of reach. He could never have what he desired, so he was going to take it from everybody else. Lack of sleep and a strong will to survive was what he had. And that was it.

Gunther's POV:

I never had a loving family or any friends, people looked at me and saw a street rat. Somebody who takes their profit just because he wants to. So many days of getting beaten, chased, and sworn at. Was this all life was summed up to be? If so, it sucked. I long to find something more in this cold, empty world. Money? No. Love? Maybe. Food? Necessary. Though I do have to wonder where this man is headed. He takes a left turn and then a right, and then another left. Observe your surroundings- you never know when you need to make plans for defense. Well, that was something I had taught myself. The first time I ever stole bread from somebody they had caught me, not knowing about my surroundings gave them the advantage to catch me. They may say survival of the fittest, but in reality it's survival of the luckiest. And in my case I was not the person that survived. Is it possible that I could turn the tides of fate and save myself? Luck looks down on me in disgust and never gave me a chance to shine. Hm? The man stopped walking. Peering around at him from the alleyway corner I noticed he stopped infront the infamous Weskeen bar. All the alchohol sold here was either old, limited edition, or made with the best ingredients. Many fights go down here between rich young men, and expensive glass bottles, being thrown and shattered. Buildings like this one were such a waste... of money, space, and supplies. Everything distributed out for this place could have been used for something so much more meaningful. Like medicine, food, shelters for the homeless, clothing for the orphans- you name it! This waste was from greed, something we all have deep down inside no matter how small, it's still there. We want something to please us, we always take but never give back. Heck! I'm the supposed bad guy here but if you look around, we're all the bad guys.