Cyrusbales
Avenger
- Joined
- Jul 16, 2006
- Messages
- 11,031
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 31

HAMMERHEAD PART 1
Three years, eight months, twenty seven days and four hours since I woke up in hospital. In that time I’ve been shot, stabbed, burned, beaten, battered, blown-up and slashed, but never lost.
Yet after all that, I don’t remember anything from before the accident. What sorta guy was I? All I know is that nowadays, I’m a man with a short fuse who doesn’t take no for an answer. Which is why I’m gonna look into who I was.
Walking down the cheaply lit street, the smell of even cheaper cigarettes fills my nose. The trash littering the sidewalk isn’t just constrained to litter, old women expose flesh that none of us wanna see, preying off the drunken men, these predators of the night. But I walk on by, I’ve got a purpose. I heard there’s this guy in West Chester, they say he can read your memories or something like that, I don’t trust him, but it’s worth a try, anyway, if he tries to cross me, people are gonna be reading his mind from all over the walls.
As the end of the cigar comes close, I ditch it in the bush by the front gate, walk on up to the door, it’s one of those heavy oak ones, there’s obviously some money tied up in this here place. Maybe he’s legit. I raise my hand upto the heavy iron knocker and wait for the door to open…