1 100 Deep Cuts - prologue

The open corridor stank of sweat and piss. Over crouded rooms flowed out into the hallway, intensifying the overwhelming smell of scum that scurried through the darkest alleys like rats through sewers. It's almost comical when comparing the two, some of the faces glaring at you as you stumble through the cramped confines are much less attractive then their hairy, four legged comparisons, some even smell worse.

You reach respite in the form of an apartment door, 100 glares back at you in chipped gold paint and moldy, flaking wood. A swift knock echos against the thumping of loud bass music and the screaming of a lady on the next floor up. The door creaks in protest as it's roughly slammed open.

"What the fuck do you want!" the words were spat at you, yellowed teeth added a pungent fragrance to spittle as it covered the pizza box you desperately used as a shield against the onslaught.

"I have a large meat combo pizza, that'll be $13.95 sir?" the familiar line comes out as a question as you realise he's not wearing pants.

You assume you have the right guy when he grunts and throws the money at you. You scramble to grab the coins before they are lost to wandering hands before quickly retreating back down the hallway and out into fresh air. The stale air of the city a welcome relief after the stagnant poison chamber you just left. The smell still hovering on you clothes like a kiss from an unwanted stranger. Your keys jingle in rhythm to your steps as you nere your car door.

Pain explodes along your back and the pavement rushes to greet you. A metallic taste fills your mouth, you realise it's blood. So much blood that you couldn't scream from the shock that froze you as the pool around you grew bigger.

A scream echos somewhere in the distance, lights flash and the sound of hurried footsteps across the pavement draw nere.

In that moment, laying frozen in a pool of blood, in a busy street, your car not two feet from you. You notice that you need new tires, your vision blurs.