As Ace ran from the tribes he had just brought together, arms flailing about and legs running as fast as humanly possible through the thick jungle, all he could do was think "What in Satan's name possessed me to cause all this!"
He looked back and saw that the natives were catching up quickly, and looked angrier than before (if that was even possible...).
Just as a spear was being thrown in his direction, two hands, smaller than his own, clasped with his flailing wrists and, shakily yet quickly, pulled him up onto a sturdy branch almost hidden in the thick-leaved tree. Ace looked down and saw the tribes running by, unaware of his escape.
Then, he looked over to his saviour, a familiar young man with beach-blonde hair in a small braided ponytail, spiked cuffs on his wrists, wearing an open black short-sleeved shirt with matching shorts, and a white(ish) tank-top underneath. The boy had a smirk plastered on this face.
"Hey Ace, I guess your 15 minutes of fame are up, huh?" The boy snickered, plucking a banana from the tree.
"Oh haha, very funny Spike." Ace retorted sarcastically, crossing his arms and leaning back against the tree trunk.
Spike, Ace's apprentice, just shrugged and took a bite of the fruit after he'd peeled it, the smirk replaced by a toothy-grin.