✍️ Write based on the line prompt above

"I remember you," Rose whispered as he stared at the old man in front of him. "We used to be in the same class, didn't we? You're Robert, right? You hit me with a ruler once."

"I wasn't aiming at you," the old man let out a hearty chuckle, a reaction Rose hadn't anticipated at all: usually when people he had known in the past met him, their reaction was that of fear, confusion or shock. 

The man then adjusted his glasses and took a more firm grip of his silver coloured walking cane, decorated in countless of small details Rose had trouble to really understand in all their carved complexity. His blue eyes had turned gray and slightly sunken with age, but the glimmer of them had remained from his boyhood days, twinkling from behind the light framed glasses. 

"You sure haven't changed at all," he finally chuckled. 

"You're not scared?" the small vampire asked and tiled his head slightly to the left like a confused animal would do upon hearing or seeing something it didn't quite understand. 

"I always knew there was something weird about you," the man replied. "If anything, I feel triumphant knowing I was right all those years!" 

"You're a strange one, you know that?" the boy giggled, his tiny fangs flashing from the row of white teeth. 

"That's what you used to tell me when were children too." 

"It's good to see you well."

"Likewise." 

Rose took a sorrowful look at the man who had once been his schoolmate, far in the past. 

"I must leave now. Mum will get worried if I stay out too long." 

The man chuckled. "So you have a new mother?"

"I have had plenty - all of whom I have loved dearly."

"Then you shouldn't keep her waiting," Robert finally spoke and corrected his posture: despite his age there was something elegant in him, in the way he carried himself with pride and with a sharp, intelligent look in his eyes.

"Take care, Robert" Rose replied and dashed off, with no further goodbyes. 

          It was one simple phrase that he happened to hear someone talked to another a distance away, but how could it still make him uncomfortable? "Oh, hey, just look at that!" ...that phrase just didn't mean to harm anyone, did it?

          However, in contrary, such 'greeting' caused Rostislav to immediately lose his confidence. His posture shrunk from a striding soldier to the usual scaredy cat that desperately sought a way to escape the danger it sensed. He knew very well what was it that attracted the unwanted attention to him. In the past few days since he and his friend made their appearance to the fleet they were assigned to, Bystryy had pretty much gone under radar among the veterans and all attentions were zeroing on him, ruining what little confidence he had built up during the transition journey which limited his social interaction to only his escort.

          Why did everyone pay so much interest to the color of his hair and uniform shirt? The amount of attention he had been getting was suffocating.

          Seeing the newcomer from the Black Sea kept on with his initial movement, the gossiping troop who had been deployed many years earlier continued their teasing, "Sorry we didn't prepare a wife for you! That wasn't included in the list of accommodations we were instructed to make ready for you in this fleet!"

          The mention of supposed 'life partner' resulted in the third Atlant's face to change color...right now his flushing face from embarrassment was rivaling the bright red shade of both his hair and upper body garment. Of course such change didn't escape the watchful eyes of those older androids and they roared into laughter. Rostislav clutched his shoulders with both hands as if trying to protect himself from the assaulting negative emotion, feeling them shaking slightly and increased his steps to flee as quick as possible. Back the in Black Sea Fleet, Slava was always there to cover for him when the older androids found his timid demeanor entertaining to tease. Now he was on his own in a fleet thousands of kilometers away from his home and older siblings...

          The 'carriers killer' cruiser...that was the expectation everyone in the Pacific Fleet had of him. Would he ever live up to that expectation? The reputations Slava worked hard to build up for their class was in vain; the first Atlant of the Pacific Fleet was nothing short of a laughing stock.

Footsteps.
Click-clack-click-clack.
Panting.
The only noises in an otherwise empty and abandoned hallway.
But it was deafening.
Smiley ran. He ran as fast as he could, too scared to look back.
Scared. What an alien emotion. He had almost forgotten that it existed until now.
Running down the empty, abandoned office building, the killer finally took shelter in an old meeting office. He pressed his sweaty back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting. He wheezed for air, then winced as his wounds caught up with him. He looked beneath his bag, seeing a large, unsightly stain of red over nearly half of his shirt. There was a bullet wound at his left shoulder, and it didn't heal. 
This wasn't supposed to happen. He lured the police officer in and was going to make him smile, but that officer, his guns were different. Every shot, every bullet, they never healed. Why? Why wasn't his regeneration working? He had never met someone that could stop his skills, and now, with mortality looming over him like a guillotine, he felt fresh fear.
Smiley's breath hitched as he heard footsteps clack against the floor. So slow- melodic, almost. A funeral march.
They got closer. Closer.
Then they stopped.
Right near his room.
"Can you even see with that mask on?" the officer's voice rang. It was playful yet had a scold to it. Smiley could see the man's smile just by hearing him talk.
It was the kindest smile he'd ever seen.
"It must be hard to breathe in that, too. Plus, you know, the crinkling sound is a dead giveaway."
The door slowly opened.
"Hey, why don't you take that mask off, anyway? After all-"
Cameron smiled as he towered over the killer, aiming his gun at him.
"You've been wearing a mask all your life, you just haven't realized it."

          The tall frame on the floating mechanical platform, which served as a flight deck, stood nonchalantly while observing the commotion at the other end of the 15 meters long metallic surface. His subordinates, one furiously storming off to the ground next to their regular assigned pier in Murmansk, and another followed closely trying to pacify his buddy whom, ironically, 'born' much closer to the ocean with a similar name to what Kosek was trying to do.

          Well, how many years had it been already since Sidor started serving under his command?

          And lately the little whiny Sukhoi seemed to be throwing the "You were supposed to be so much better!" phrase at him quite often when he didn't like it that his silly, derpy self fell victim to one of his pranks...yet again. Funny, Chilo never thought he was also to blame for never learning to be more careful? Besides, coming with new strategies regularly was what Kolya's job as the Navy's flagship needed to do...even if it meant coming up with new pranks to pull on his subordinates. Why not? It kept his brain active and also taught the guys to be more alert, he didn't see anything wrong with that.

          Aimlessly shifting his eyes northward toward Severomorsk where most of the Northern Fleet stationed, Kuznetsov's thought drifted to the former flagship of the nation's largest fleet. He never got to interact with Kirov, back in late 1991 when he was hastily ordered to transfer to Murmansk, by that time Kirov was already deactivated. However, socializing with various androids who went through the period when Petya's eldest brother was still the poster boy of USSR's naval fleet, he learned that Kirov was an odd leader who hardly ever interacted with any of the fellow androids under his command. Yet, he was well respected by those he had an authority over. A puff of steam emerged from under the signature naval officer's white cap as Kolya let out a sigh to Murmansk's chilly air. Was Kirov the exemplary standard of what 'decent boss' is supposed to be?

          "I doubt it, you just don't learn to appreciate me, that's all," however, Chilo was already way too far ahead to hear what Kolya muttered. And the supreme commander of Russian Navy was in no mood to yield to the Sukhoi's tantrum. Kosek should be able to convince his Su-33 colleague to abandon the idea to transfer to land-based duty, so he'd leave it to his most trusted team member.

          "I was supposed to be so much better...as a boss?" Kolya's voice morphed to a soft snide, "Oh boy, if you think life is miserable because of repeated pranks I pulled on you, you seriously don't realize you have had such a pleasant life, Chilo."

Talulah huffed indignantly, struggling to get to her feet. She steadied herself on the nearest person and took a quick swing of mead for a confidence boost. Not that she needed it much--the boisterous cheers from the surrounding crowd were enough to turn a minnow into a kraken. Their shouts sent adrenaline rushing through the pirate's veins, and with a smirk, she slung a clenched fist at the bartender's brother. With a deep cry of pain, he staggered backwards. A trickle of blood ran down his nose to the bottom of his chin, but he was fazed for only a second before he returned the smirk. A flurry of fists attacked Talulah, and, though she managed to block a few, she took more than a few hits to the ribs. The air in her lungs rushed out and very breath burned, but it wasn't until someone from the chanting audience pushed her forward that she began swinging. The two were lost in flashes of color. The next thing she knew, she was holding him down and blood was everywhere. The proud smile of victory still rested on her face. Out of pure excitement and aggression, she continued to beat the man until the crowd's spirit died down and the tavern fell eerily quiet. Her punches slowed and her eyes drifted to the solemn faces of those around her. Whispers rose from the void of silence, and one by one, they left the scene of the crime. Behind them all was the bartender, a glass of ale in hand and a look spread across his face that could only be described as pure and utter horror. His hand shook, and, as if in slow motion, it fell from his grasp and collided with the ground with a loud shatter, breaking into a million pieces. There were no words for what was felt between them. Disbelief was what it could best be described as, but even that was far from the shock lingering in the air. 

"You've killed him. He'd dead, isn't he? Oh Poseidon, he's dead, isn't he!" The bartender collapsed in a heap of sorrow, face already soaked with tears. All Talulah could see was the blurry vision of her hands covered in blood, his blood. Her heart began racing, the pounding sound echoing in her ears, and this time it was out of panic. 

"You," He whispered, the raw hatred evident in his voice. He paused. They looked into each other's eyes, hers expressing terror and his abhorrence.

"I don't want to see your damn face here ever again, you understand?"

Talulah couldn't even manage to nod as she stood shakily and, for the first time her her life, she ran.

(Ahem...well....I haven't written in a very long time so excuse the....horrible-ness?)

"Hey, look I'm fine. I only drank 4 bottles.... it's not a big deal..."

His speech was slurred. That was the first thing Lucius noted when he spoke. It wasn't too slurred to the point Lucius was unable to pinpoint what exactly he said but it was slurred enough for Lucius to realize that he was most certainly drunk. Lucius licked his dry lips and focused his gaze to the bottle in his talons. He can make out the orange liquid of the beverage he was drinking that remained inside of it, untouched. He curled his talons tightly on the bottle to establish a tighter hold on it as he lifted it up to his lips. His lips clasped on the rim of the bottle as he tilted the bottle of. The bitterness of the drink coated his tongue and trudged down his throat.

"But your face is red..."

Lucius would've laughed if he wasn't so busy drinking at the moment. It would have been laughter filled with amusement because of Raiden's concern with the male. It would have also been one filled with embarrassment of now realizing his face would flush as a result of his drinking. He moved his mouth from the bottle and focused his gaze to Raiden. The Jolteon was currently pressed against the male's side with his  front paws grasping at a glass of water. He would lean up on his back paws to lap at the water in it. The smaller male ears twitched as he focused his gaze over to Lucius upon noticing the male was looking over to him.  

"I would like to think I'm careful when it comes to my drinking thank you very much," Lucius commented. He lean down and gently licked at Raiden's head, earning a annoyed huff from the other.

"You said that last time and I ended up carrying you back to the motel room since Ryujin was too busy sleeping there to help me out," Raiden complained. 

Lucius recalled that incident. In fairness, he wasn't aware how strong Shiftry drinks tend to be. They always seemed like the type to carry anything too special when it comes to their alcohol. Boy, he was surprised when the opposite proved to be the case. He couldn't help but snort as he positioned his bottle back on the counter as he lean back. He ran his claws along his stomach as he closed his eyes to take a second to build up a proper reply.  One that would satisfied his mate. 

"Well you're fine now..." Lucius grumbled. "Ryujin is a nearby if I do end going overboard."

It wasn't perfect but it worked. At least for now. The male heard Raiden emit a sigh at this, clearly not pleased with his reply. However, he didn't say anything. Perhaps accepting Lucius stubbornness at the moment. 

"I'm not going in there," Knut stated and took a few steps away from the dark cave in front of him. "Nu-uh, no chance. We don't know what lives in there!"

"Are you scared?" one of the girls asked with a snickering laughter. "You're scared!"

"Am not!" Knut stated angrily and puffed his chest, but it didn't make him look any more intimidating when the girl was so much taller and stronger in built than Knut could ever be in his life. 

"Yes you are. Go there and prove yourself if you're not scared."

Knut grit his teeth and rolled up his sleeves. 

"But if I die," he then stated and pointed his finger at the girl, "then I'll come back as a ghost to haunt you for the rest of your life!"

The girl laughed. 

"You won't die." 

At this moment a low growl could be heard from inside the cave, the walls of it echoing it and making it sound like it was coming multiple directions at once. Everyone who had gathered around the cave gulped, Knut's in particular mixed with a sense of terror and dread. 

"I'm going to die," he thought as he took a step closer to the cave and closed his eyes. "I'm so going to die."

But with everyone pressuring him to move on, Knut couldn't just go back now, and so he started making his way into the deep, dark cave that opened right in front of him. The deeper he walked in the darker it got, the light of the entrance soon not even reaching Knut anymore, leaving him completely in the dark. The walls were cold and from somewhere deep inside the tunnel dripping water echoed hollowly, and Knut could feel how the hair at the back of his head stood up like that of a scared dog's. 

And then he walked into the furry something. 

It was large and instantly let out a confused grunt as Knut crashed against it. 

"Oh no oh no oh no," Knut thought in panic and tried to run, but his body had frozen still. 

"S-sorry I bothered you," the boy then spoke with a shaky voice. A cold muzzle pressed itself against Knut's face, a wet nose directly against his cheek sniffing in the scent of this small stranger. He had no way of properly seeing the creature, but he could tell from the position of its head that it had to be standing on four legs, and so Knut made himself small in order not to intimidate the creature: it might have been many times larger than the boy himself, but animals often didn't understand human body language, and so trying to imitate their own was something Knut had found out to be working. 

This action seemed to put the monster at ease, and soon Knut could feel a large, bear-like paw against his side, pushing himself closer to the being. It let out yet another grunt, but this time it sounded closer to purring and it lacked the tone of intimidation in it. Not wanting to get into trouble, Knut had no choice but to follow the furry beast's claw as it pushed Knut closer to him, and soon he found himself from the embrace of what felt like a very large bear. 

"Dear Miras, I think it's mistaking me for its cub," Knut realized as the bear creature started stroking his hair with its tongue, smelly saliva falling down on Knut's face. 

"I'm going to kill Cassandra when I get out of here," he thought as he grimaced. 

He'd have to wait until the creature was asleep.