Chapter one: A new Beginning, an old end.
Barely lingering between consciousnesses, the swaying of the train was soothing and melodic. A croaky voice echoed over the train intercom:
"Soon we will be arriving at Orion city, please collect all of your possessions."
Almost there, the stench of vomit and urine was overpowering. I finally arrived at Orion city, I didn't want to be there… but no where else to go. I exited the train station; traces of urine still occupied my nostrils. The midnight winds howled like timber wolves, the rain against my skin was refreshing. I find myself stood outside the nearest hotel; a dilapidated piece of crap where addicts and crack whores weren't strangers to.
I approached the front desk and got a key; hopefully for a decent room. I walked down the hallways, dimly lit with graffiti tags of local gangs and numbers of hookers smeared in lipstick. I got to my room, it looked like a crack den, and the door had been kicked down a few times; possibly by pimps or the police. I collapsed on a bed that was stained with blood and skid marks, finally had the chance to unwind and get some rest. With a pillow close to my head and a semi close to my heart. I thought to myself: 'for a thirteen dollar room, you can't be too careful.'
I've had this dream before; I've had it a million times. I arrived home and my home and my life had been turned upside down, the shrill echoes of voices in the back of my mind, I can't forget the voices. I always picked up the shotgun and ran towards the bedroom. The valkyr pumped thug jumped through the door muttering insane phrases, pointing a pistol at me. I always get the first shot off; I wouldn't want it any other way. It must be the adrenaline pulsing through my body but everything seems to go… slow from here. One shot is all it ever takes for this piece of shit. The other addict jumps through the door and I always dive back and release two buck shots that rip through his ribcage and send him crashing on the floor in a heap of flesh and blood. She is always lying on the bed, motionless, drowned in blood and remaining tears rolling down here face. I'll never forget the voices; screaming my name, begging them not to hurt the baby.
I'm always too late.
I awoke in a pool of sweat, the cliché neon sign with the words "live nudes" flickered outside the room window. The voices still echoed through my mind, my head was killing. I pulled out some painkillers from my carry all and washed two down with a glass of vodka. "Just what the doctor ordered."
Distant screams echoed down the street, gradually getting louder, I peered out the window and saw a scantily dressed woman of the night, running down the street; shouting for help, a group of men following not too far behind. There's always a girl involved; some sort of damsel in distress in a dangerous situation. It's the same old story; A new beginning, with an old end.