A Heart of Fire
Winchester. The big city. I’ve always hated it. It’s a terrible place. The homeless lying on the street, rats always crawling up from the sewers in the run-down areas. Then there are the muggers. In Winchester the muggers are infamous for leaving people choking on their own intestines if they don’t have a good bit of money on them. Okay, that’s a major exaggeration, but terrible things have happened to innocent people before.
That’s why I’m here, I suppose. The name’s Daniel, a tall, lean kid with dark brown eyes, tan skin, and spiky black hair. If you saw me on the street you’d think I’m just an average kid, but I’m one of those people who are under the “Don’t judge a book by its cover” category, just like every other teenage protagonist from everything ever made. Every day I walk from my house in the suburbs to these streets packing a Colt Single Action Army, straight out of the westerns. Normally I walk into remote alleys, looking for anyone daring to try to rob me when I’m not tracking criminal activities. So far, thirty-six people have attempted to do so. All of ‘em are nothing more than pieces of rotten flesh and bones being nibbled on by the aforementioned rats now. You, dear reader, may be wondering how I’m allowed to do this.
You see, I was orphaned at a very young age. No recollection of my parents whatsoever, which is fine by me. One day, when I was about eleven, two men in black suits, one wearing a red tie and the other wearing a blue tie, took me from my orphanage. Supposedly they had permission to take me. After that they plopped me into a nice little house in the ‘burbs, giving me free reign over everything. They’ve been paying for all expenses and have provided me with food ever since. I ask them what they’re doing with me occasionally but they never answer. Hell, they never say anything. All they do is check in each month to see if I’m still alive and then leave again. It all smells of utter and complete bullshit, but the hell if I care. Frankly, I enjoy doing this. I’ve even saved a few people, although they usually run away before saying thank you. It doesn’t bother me though. As long as I can at least try to enjoy the night, then I’m happy. This night feels peculiar though. Something’s gonna happen.
I keep my hand on the butt of my revolver and watch the shadows. After about ten minutes of walking around I hear a scream close by. I turn a corner to my left. It’s an alley near an abandoned laundromat. There’s a little kid being jumped by three guys. One has a switchblade to the kid’s throat. After assessing the situation, I do the only sensible thing. I yell, “Hey, you stupid motherfuckers! Why don’t you quit being shit-eating cowards and face me!” This, of course, provokes the stupid animals and causes them to surround me.
This may not be the time to brag, but I am a pretty good fighter and marksman. No one has ever been able to beat me. The biggest mugger comes at me with a raised right fist. The fool’s already telegraphed his attack, so I duck underneath his swing and punch his stomach. Now that he’s slowed and stunned, I go behind him, grab his neck, and pistol-whip him on the side of his head with my revolver. As he falls to the floor, unconscious, I see his friends slow down. I, a fifteen-year old boy all alone in the city at night, managed to beat their friend in less than ten seconds. They look so stupid with their mouths agape.
They still figure the odds are against me, considering it’s still two against one. They begin to circle me, hoping I won’t know which guy will come at me first. I see the left one begin to step forward but I call their bluff. The right one charges instead, trying to tackle me. The dumb asses still don’t realize I have a gun so I pull it out, take aim, and blow out his right kneecap in a second. The dipshit stumbles and crashes to the ground, crying out in pain. After a couple of seconds his whining starts to annoy me, so I walk over and shoot him in the head. The final punk, the one with the switchblade, goes to the other side of a dumpster in the alleyway and pulls out the kid they were messing with. Apparently the child didn’t have enough common sense to run away. The mugger shouts, “Put your gun down asshole, and I won’t gut the kid!”
