Ice-fire glow in Techno-City, left behind to die on the streets. Freeze out, no one cares about me in the gutter looking up at the brutal night sky. A price on my head for that grave mistake I made. The man with the laser eyes broke both my legs, kicked me into the street. Cold, misty rain falling, nothing to eat.
“Time to pay the piper,” laser-eyes said. “Next time, I’ll slit your throat, jack.” No love in the city for a console cowboy like me. I imagine someone will stop and help me, eventually, eventually.
But, for now, I lick my wounds and count the neon cars passing by, splashing street water in my face. A cold place for a dirty street urchin-cowboy like me.
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