The Beginning

Sid sighed as he leaned against the rotting sill below the window, his forehead pressed to the filthy glass, staring at the raging hordes below. It was the third riot this month, although it was proving to be the most violent one since the Columbus Day massacre of 2073.

Fuck, he thought. If Tommy doesn’t get here soon, we’re going to miss out on the decent merch. As if on queue, Tommy burst through the door.

“RIOT, Motherfuckers!” he screamed as he walked in, his fists raised overhead. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, flinging it over the back of the couch, sitting heavily on the end nearest the window. Sliding to the edge of the cushion, his legs bounced with adrenaline.

“Guess what I got for our adventure tonight?” Tommy asked, nodding his head toward the sirens in the distance.


“Nice, douche bag, but no,” he said as he reached behind his back and pulled two Sigma 9’s from his waste-band and laid them gently on the table.

“Guns, motherfucker. We’re not coming home empty tonight.”

View this story's 3 comments.