Subject 13 (Renton):
Renton MacShea had never worn a uniform before.
That's not entirely true, the Plug Suit probably counts as a uniform. Correction: Renton MacShea had never worn a school uniform before. Frankly, he didn't like it. Too same-y, too much "Yay conformity!" for him. For a man who can literally go down to see clones of himself growing in a vat, Renton MacShea is quite the individualist.
Which is why seeing a group of what could be described as "punks", if one were feeling generous and/or drunk was like a gift from God. Both minds of Subject 13 were in perfect sync for one brief, shining moment; shouting together in harmony.
"Finally, someone we can punch!"
He walked up to the biggest punk, tapped him on the shoulder, then broke his nose with a headbutt. The blood smelled like LCL, tasted like victory. A lanky kid with a reverse faux-hawk jumped him from behind; he'll be singing castratto for a few days. Somebody came at him with a pipe or something; after Renton laughed in his face at his feeble attempt at a headshot, the kid learned the folly of his ways. They kept stepping up, Rent Boy knocked them down until finally they lay in a heap at his feet.
"Listen up you schmucks, and listen real bloody good. My name's Renton MacShea and I demand respect. You pitiful radges better learn some real punk or learn how to fight if you want to still be able to walk by the end of this semester, savvy?" He looks out to the crowd of gawking students that formed around the fracas, eyes flashing green. "If anyone's got a problem with what I just did, they can take it up with me or me sis. Look us up under 'Bad Motherf*ckers'." With that, he gives one of the punk kids a kick for the road and walks to his first class.
By lunchtime the name "Renton MacShea" is getting passed around like Pokemon cards.
Renton MacShea had never worn a uniform before.
That's not entirely true, the Plug Suit probably counts as a uniform. Correction: Renton MacShea had never worn a school uniform before. Frankly, he didn't like it. Too same-y, too much "Yay conformity!" for him. For a man who can literally go down to see clones of himself growing in a vat, Renton MacShea is quite the individualist.
Which is why seeing a group of what could be described as "punks", if one were feeling generous and/or drunk was like a gift from God. Both minds of Subject 13 were in perfect sync for one brief, shining moment; shouting together in harmony.
"Finally, someone we can punch!"
He walked up to the biggest punk, tapped him on the shoulder, then broke his nose with a headbutt. The blood smelled like LCL, tasted like victory. A lanky kid with a reverse faux-hawk jumped him from behind; he'll be singing castratto for a few days. Somebody came at him with a pipe or something; after Renton laughed in his face at his feeble attempt at a headshot, the kid learned the folly of his ways. They kept stepping up, Rent Boy knocked them down until finally they lay in a heap at his feet.
"Listen up you schmucks, and listen real bloody good. My name's Renton MacShea and I demand respect. You pitiful radges better learn some real punk or learn how to fight if you want to still be able to walk by the end of this semester, savvy?" He looks out to the crowd of gawking students that formed around the fracas, eyes flashing green. "If anyone's got a problem with what I just did, they can take it up with me or me sis. Look us up under 'Bad Motherf*ckers'." With that, he gives one of the punk kids a kick for the road and walks to his first class.
By lunchtime the name "Renton MacShea" is getting passed around like Pokemon cards.




