Author's note: This is my first fanfiction so please be nice to me. Some of the characters may not have the same personalities as they do in the anime or manga and I'm trying to change it up a little bit but it still may suck. If you think it's horrible then go ahead and tell me. If it really is that bad and I have more people that tell me that it stinks then I'll probably stop but if y'all like it then I'll do my best to continue. Please reply so that I know if I'm wasting my time or not.

I silently walked down the street wearing a black hoodie (hood down) and almost black jeans which were very comfortable compared to the formal skirt, shirt, and jacket the old man wanted me to wear whenever I went somewhere so I could pick up a boyfriend that he could be proud of.

I was disgusted by that and purposely only wore the things that he disliked because it seemed to agitate him. I also had black nails and black lip stick that made him call me something like a rebel child or something; I never really listened.

My hands were in my pockets which he also said wasn't lady-like but it was comfy.

Then I heard the sound of a silenced gunshot and looked to my left to see a group of maybe 3 or 4 guys surrounding at least 10 (most were dead) injured pigeons and a limping, frightened dog.

The idiots just stood there laughing while their leader fired at the birds in the air, hitting at least one wing, causing it to crash to the ground. Then he'd start pelting it with a slingshot, torturing the poor thing until it finally died, and then he'd bring down another one.

I argued with myself on whether I should help the poor things. Dad had told me to stop fighting, told me not to get into them anymore, but it was hard and I really wanted to hurt the guy, the way he was hurting those poor creatures, and the poor starving dog!

They had shot near its legs and then actually got a bullet in his little bony leg, causing its limp to worsen.

I sighed, clenched my fists, and pulled my hood over my head to hide my face.

Without making a sound, I rushed forward and snatched the gun from his hand, accidentally throwing him to the ground. He looked up with annoyance and shouted, "Watch where you're going, you son of a bitch!" I glared down at him and deepened my voice. "Leave them alone. They didn't do anything to you."

Now that I was closer I could tell that I had seen him before and he had been doing this a lot now that I thought about it but I had always ignored him and now I was not going to.

While I was off in thought, one guy came up and punched me in the side of the face, probably busting my lip or breaking a tooth and forcing me to the ground. A growl leapt from my throat and I bounced back to my feet. I kicked one guy in the stomach, one in the groin, and another in the face. They all dropped like flies and then I turned to the head guy.

He glared as he did his best to get to his feet and then run away or retreat with his pals following behind.

I groaned and wiped at my bloody lip, really hoping it wouldn't swell. The old man would kill me or do something even worse.

I limped over to the pile of bloodied pigeons (must have gotten kicked in the leg), and crouched down beside them. One out of the ten was still alive and cooed urgently, looking at me with fear in its eyes. I felt true pity for the thing. It had a broken/bullet-holed wing and was bleeding crimson from all over its body. I whispered, "Let me end your suffering, please." I placed two fingers on its petite, delicate neck and twisted, hearing a slight snap or crack.

I sighed and stood up, looking now at the starving dog, who just laid on its side with its head directed towards me. I moved over to it and leaned down, pulling gauze out of my bag. I was used to injuries so it was easy to wrap its leg up and then also place a piece of chicken left from my lunch in front of it. "This is all I can do for you now. Just be careful, okay?" It seemed to nod and then I turned to leave, feeling hatred to the bastards that had decided to hurt those animals. Those were the type of people I loathed.

I thought of this as I headed back to the church where Dad would probably yell at me.