There were few things that rattled Richard Moreau so much that is almost threatened to expel all of the alcohol from his system. Of course, that was physically impossible and most of his days in college confirmed this feat to be unlikely (he tried everything, to his knowledge), yet after what just happened and what he had seen, he felt more conscious and aware, more so than he was just minutes ago.

Granted, minutes ago, he was rendered unconscious by what he assumed to be an oncoming truck. He had seen a bright white light, then felt something slam into him and sent the drunk candy man flying. He hadn’t heard a truck approaching, be he was drink and distracted by a very attractive woman at the time, so not too surprising that he didn’t see the vehicle coming.

Except now, he knew it to not be a car or truck. Once he had regained consciousness, he witnessed a brief cat fight (very brief as the lady he was once flirting with had pinned the other girl down), and it was then that he realized the rumors were really true.

There was a war going on in Destiny City, and Richard got a mere taste of it. Even now, as he laid on the cold sidewalk, arms spread eagled and crimson eyes staring at the star-filled sky, his mind wasn’t on finding the strength to move on or find shelter. It was on what he had witness, and how easily he could have been killed this night. Richard did not want to think about his mortality, much lss turning the big 3 0. Yet, tonight he was forced to consider it, and now that he was made aware of this ongoing, underground war (things he once believed to be mere propaganda to liven up everyone’s mundane lives), he knew that he had a decision to make.

Not getting involved now was simply out of the question. To Richard, this was the equivalent of taking a bite of the forbidden fruit, and there was no way of regurgitating the apple now. He could not ignore this, nor did he want to! He wanted in on this, and it was only a matter of which side he would be willing to join in this war.

He didn’t care which side was right or wrong. Such matters were irrelevant when it came to war; each side thought he was right and would likely accuse the other side of trickery, so that would not be a factor in his decision. When it came down to it, Richard could only look at one factor, and that being which side would be the most beneficial to his longevity.

“One side was going to kill me,” Richard said, at long last, startling the homeless man that had been poking him with what he thought to be a stick (or hoped was a stick). “The other could have died trying to protect me… had she died and I not left when I did, what would have stopped the other?”

The homeless man said nothing, shying away when it was obvious that he would get nothing from the now enlightened ,am. But he didn’t get too far before Richard grabbed his tattered coat and held him back. He looked over the man, as he continued his monologue. “One side is willing to kill. The other side willing to be killed to protect others. For a man that fears death, which side would he join if given the chance?”

Again, the homeless man said nothing, tugging at his coat but giving up when Richard made it clear that he would not let go. Richard never gave him the chance to reply; when, when he felt the decision was already made for him? “What use is power if you throw your life away protecting someone you don’t even know? Better to throw my lot in with the winning side and live long enough to see the end of this little war… don’t you think?”

Yes, his decision was made. If the opportunity presented itself, he would gladly join the side with the crazy spear lady, because Richard wanted to live. If he was their ally, a valuable ally, they would not kill him. “If I died,” Richard said, finally releasing the homeless man and looking ready to drift back into a drunken stupor right there on the streets. “Who would care for Baldwin?”

(Word count: 742)