Yeah, thanks everyone for the dozens of reviews I received for my last piece, I really appreciate that. [sarcasm (if any of you are too stupid to figure it out)] but I wasn't really expecting any so... yeah... it's all the same to me. I'll write one way or another. Well here's more crap if anyone is reading this. Based on the song "What it's like" by Everlast. Not exactly a songfic... but something else. Each chapter will be started with a clip form the song.

What It's Like

We've all seen a man at the liquor store beggin' for your change
The hair on his face is dirty, dread-locked, and full of mange
He asks a man for what he could spare, with shame in his eyes
"Get a job you fucking slob," is all he replies
God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes
'Cause then you really might know what it's like to sing the blues

The clouds blocked out the sun. The rain poured down. Along the street, walked one solitary figure, pushing a shopping cart before him. He was dressed in a coat that might have once been blue. It was now grey. The whole man was grey. From the torn, grey tennis shoes, the laces paralyzed from dirt and grime that had accumulated over the years. To the pants, once Khaki, now grey. Duct tape covered several holes. The legs of the pants stopping several inches above the man's ankles. Brad Hunter's face was also grey and filled with wrinkles. There were some burn marks. His eyes were still blue, but barely. Despite the color, they lacked life. His hair had grown even longer. It now stuck together, forming a coarse surface that couldn't be called hair. His calloused hands tightly gripped the shopping cart as he advanced down the street.

The cart contained a greenish-grey blanket. Several insects crawled over it. There was also a gallon jug in there. There were a few pennies in the bottom. And a piece of cardboard with some scribbled letters on it: "No job. No food. Please donate money. God Bless." The last thing it contained was a shopping bag filled with scraps of food. Germ infested, rotten meat. Moldy bread. Things found in gutters and trash cans.

Not many people were on the street. A police car sat at the red light. A woman and her daughter passed Brad. He tapped the woman on the shoulder and held out the gallon jug. She drew her child close to her and hurriedly walked away. As she turned around Brad held up his middle finger in the air.

The cop tackled him straight to the ground and began to beat him with a nightstick. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Again and again. Brad cried out. Finally the man stopped. He grabbed Brad by the collar and hoisted him up.

"I don't wanna see you on this street again. Understand?"

Brad meekly nodded. The cop through him back onto the concrete walked back to his car, got in and drove away. Brad gathered himself up and limped down the street with the cart. He came to an alley and turned into it. Some other bums were in the alley. Some were picking through garbage. Some were asleep. Most were simply sitting down staring at the walls with a glazed expression. All these older beggars growled at the sight of the young newcomer. Brad turned the cart around and headed back out. Suddenly, a hand dived into the cart, fished out the gallon jug and ran, all in the space of two seconds. Brad saw a figure running down the alley. Oh well. There wasn't much anyway.

He had been too selfish with money before. This is where it had gotten him. One hacked credit account and it was all gone... he could've gone back and asked Doc or Bit or someone for help. But foolish pride wouldn't let him. It had been some years after the breakup of the team when he had lost it all. They were probably all successful by now. He couldn't do it.

Then you really might know what it's like...

Then you really might know what it's like...

Then you really might know what it's like...

Then you really might know what it's like...

Author's notes: It was really short. But then again, how much can you really say about beggars?Next chapter: Bit and Leena. Although if you've heard the song you already probably know what happens...