[centre][img]http://i.imgur.com/kulVuur.png[/img][/centre]

Hot Socks was standing in an alley. One without an exit, save for the entrance. Such a trope existed only in chases in TV shows. On one end, Hot Socks. His right arm raised, ready to punch. Steam bellowed out of two holes on each side. It wasn't an extreme amount of steam. It was about one eighth of his current punching power. A punch like that would, at most, send someone back and break a few ribs. On the other side was a man with a baseball cap, dark black sunglasses, and a cheap dollar store bandana around his face. He had a knife in one hand and a cheap plastic bag full of loose bills and coins in the other. The two were at a standoff. Hot Socks didn't want to punch the man, but he wanted to stop him. The silence was broken by a loud

[center][i]"What's that?"[/i][/center]

The robber said. Hot Socks instinctively turned around. The robber made a break for it, and in response, Hot Socks lifted up his right arm. The robber collided straight into it, breaking his glasses and his noise. Hot Socks saw a weird ship. It looked real alien to him. He became a bit curious. He ran towards it, and near the ocean. He stopped. A small ship hovered over him. He was confused, but then he realized that he was, for lack of a better term, screwed. He started to struggle, but it was too late. He started to be brought up slowly, but surely.