Pierot woke from his dream, his throat parched and his head akin, the Tequila bottle that was his best friend the night before, was just now showing its true colors.
The record player wailed the anthem of Alex Harvey (cool song check it out), and was drowning all the sounds of the city. Pierot looked around, trying to remember where he was. He was home, a small room 63 meters squared, with small kitchenette, a couch, a bathroom, and countless empty bottles. In his closet rested his favorite things, a couple of cool albums, his guitar, and some books.
He stood up looked at his stairway poster saluting the old hermit, and went into the bathroom to check him self in the cracked mirror. He had long black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and a thin body, he was just in his boxers, and you could see the big scar running down his chest, every time he looked at it he winced, the pain coming back to him in a flash, like lightning.
Then the memories of that afternoon came back rushing to him, he was walking on the strip, back then when he lived in LA with his old band the killing moon, out of nowhere came a couple of guys, by the looks of their uniforms, they where cops, but something was wrong with them. Their eyes, they were red and puffy, as if they had drunk all night, and so it was. They approached Pierot clumsily. Pierot stiffened and soon as relaxed, he remembered his teachings, be like the whip, be like water, accept, don't stiffen you are no superhero, just a guy trying to survive. The cops were now laughing wildly, and some snorted, Pierot looked amused, just like pigs he taught. Bam a punch pierot felt it in his stomach then a couple more, pft he taught and suddenly whipped punch the cop in the neck, the officer flew and crashed, his neck almost breaking, he screamed in pain, the others seeing this quickly rushed Pierot, and tried pinning him on the ground, but he was too slick, he barely moved, but they could not catch him, he kicked one in the groin, no kids for you he shouted.
Two left he said, you sure you bitches wanna do this? The cops looked at themselves and quickly one ran at him and head locked him, wile the other ran backwards towards something, in the position he was in Pierot, could not see what it was. Oh crap he taught why did I let him head lock me? He dispatched the head locker easily, but soon as the other guy appeared before him, a huge piece of glass in his hand and slashed at him; Pierot moved in time and broke the hand of the assailant, the glass fell and shattered. He herd a shot, felt a burning pain in his belly, and fell on the cold pavement, sewer water all around him mixing with his blood.
He blacked out, he screamed in pain, his eyes saw one of them, a knife in his hand cutting him open, and laughing, he blacked out again the sour smell of sewer water, shit and blood filling his nostrils.
He woke up in a hospital, a reporter next to him; he had found him and brought him here.
Glad you're awake he said amaaziiiing you survived.
Yeah Pierot said as he took a slug of the whiskey bottle handed to him, and who are you?
I'm Frank, I covered wars you know.
And with that Pierot passed out again.
