A young boy wearing a rag as a shirt and dirty muddy shorts walks into a bar, placing his hands on the tall stool to push himself up, using the smaller metal bar on the bottom to leverage himself up. "Can I have one cup of orange juice?" His voice was high-pitched and prepubescent. On the bridge of his nose was a band-aid, blood pooling from one side.
"And who let you in kid?" A deep raspy voice spoke from above the young boy. He had to turn his head almost ninety degrees to look at the man. He had long eyebrows covering his eyes with a grey moustache covering his mouth.
"Orange juice." The young boy taps on the bar counter as he sighs.
The bartender was holding a glass cup, polishing it with a handkerchief. "We don't get orange juice, go back to your ma and pa, we don't serve kids." The bartender temporarily stops cleaning the cup but continues afterwards.
"I ain't got no ma and pa." The young boy turns his hand into a fist and slams the counter harder.
"Woah these kids got an attitude." The man sitting beside the boy commented. "He's a feisty one." He laughs as he slams his pint of beer onto the counter. The young boy turns and looks at the man sitting next to him. He looked like the stereotypical biker member, a bright red bandana with sunglasses and tattoos running down the side of his right arm.
His left arm was bionic and made of metal, only a small bit of his organic arm remained. "I'll pay for the kid's drink."
"We don't sell alcohol to children. Period." The bartender sets the glass down, a drip of water sliding down the side of the glass.
"Then I'd like a pint." The man said slyly.
"Don't try to outsmart me, smart ass." The bartender places his hand underneath the bar as if trying to grab something.
"Kid, look away for a moment." The man turned and looked at the boy. "Unless you want to see this."
"The fuck you say?" The bartender pulls out a small pistol from underneath the counter, raises it and points it at the man.
The man swiftly ducks to avoid the barrel of the gun, pushing himself off the stool. He reaches his hand over the counter and pulls out a bottle from underneath.
"Ah!" The bartender shoots the gun out of fear and accidentally presses down on the trigger, sending a bullet flying across the bar.
The man grabbed the bartender by the collar, slamming his face deep into the counter.
Everyone turned their heads and looked at the man. The bartender was knocked out cold with blood dripping down the side of his mouth and from his nose.
"Are you going to hurt me too?" The young boy said with an aggressive undertone, placing his hand inside his jacket.
"Woah, calm down kid." The man raises both of his hands, surrendering to the young boy. "I ain't gonna throw hands against some kid like you." He looks around the bar and realises that everyone is looking at the two of them. "Nothing to see here! See, he's all good!" He lifts the bartender's bloodied face, blood dripping from his chin onto the counter.
"Why did you hurt him?" The boy pulls a knife out from his jacket, pointing it at the man.
"Wowie." The man clicks his tongue as he looks down at the formidably small blade the young boy was holding. "Don't go point that where you don't want it to go." He places his index finger gently on the tip of the blade, pushing it down.
"I'm not afraid to use it!" The boy moves the knife back and raises it, pointing it at the man's neck.
"Ooo..." The man says sarcastically. "Oh what great fear I am in!" He erupts into laughter. "C'mon kid, enough of the antics, have a drink." The man grabs the empty cup the bartender was cleaning and popped open the brand new bottle he took from underneath the counter. Smoke escaped the top as he poured the brown liquid into the glass, a small layer of foam settled at the top as little particles moved up and down in the drink. "Drink up." The man pushes the cup towards the young boy.
"Don't think of me as a fool! I am the legendary Danny Steele! I will cut you up into a million pieces!" The young boy announced himself as Danny. He thrust the blade forward in an attempt to attack the man but instead ends up tripping on the stool and landing on the ground, causing the knife to leave his hand and fall onto the floor.
"If you won't drink it, I will." The man doesn't even react, nonchalantly continuing to drink.
"Argh!" Danny stands up and stabs the man in the leg, ripping through his jeans. "Take that!"
The man doesn't react or anything, he simply looks down at Danny. "Aw man, these were my favourite pair of jeans!" The man grabbed the knife and ripped it out of his thigh. "And they were expensive too! 70 Khristels..." He snaps the blade in half before throwing it over the counter.
Danny looks at the man with a confused look on his face. "Pretty cool, huh?" The man stands up and towers over Danny. He rolls his leg sleeves up and reveals his entire leg had been turned into metal. It was covered in metal and different scraps, exposed wires coming out from the indents.
Danny was mesmerised by his reflection in the metal leg, his young innocent eyes staring back at him as he stared into his own eyes, an endless loop of eye contact.
"Help me." His reflection turned into the image of the Omnishell he had found in the basement, the one with the fluffy white hair and mesmerising galaxy horns and eyes.
"Hey!" Danny awakes in the middle of a dark alley, water pouring down on him as the pitch-black sky rains heavily. "What?" Danny is completely out of breath and he's sitting in a pile of rubbish, his back against a damp wall. "Where am I?" He looks down at his chest and there's a massive stitch down the middle, like a surgical scar. "Did they steal my heart?!" Danny is in a state of hysteria.
He placed his hand over where his heart would be, only for there not to be a pulse. He placed his finger up to his neck where his artery would be to measure his pulse.
Nothing.