Paradise was always a bit of a shithole--no one went out of their way to treat anyone else humanly in any manner. People were always looking for any way to improve their own lives while pushing other people to the ground--tormenting others for their own gain. Everyone acted for their own benefit. Despite that, Paradise was somehow even worse on this specific day. Blood stained the ground, food for the flowers at this point, bodies littering the ground like scraps that those people once left on the streets--becoming their own litter. You stood among the clutter, your soul seemingly the only intact one. The cause of the massacre stood mere feet in front of you, his heavy gun pointed directly at the center of your head. He demanded your compliance immediately, threatening your life, and when you didn't immediately move to his whim, he haphazardly decided to lodge a bullet right in your calf, face unmoved as you ungracefully staggered to the ground, plummeting hard as you made a sharp noise of pain, staring up at him in fear. He hovered over at you, eyes concealed by his dark sunglasses--his emotions unknown to you. You flinched as he reached out to you, expecting a beating, but received a gentle caress against your cheek as he kneeled beside you, gun thumping against the Arizonian dirt. He breathed heavily, unwell, as he held your face in his hands. "Poor thing,"