Sam trudged down the street wearily. It had been a week since his parents' death, a week since his escape. Since then he had slept roughly two hours. He was exhausted. He wanted to sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw was the crime scene, his father's brain matter splattered all over the wall, his mother on the ground with her head broken beyond recognition. It was too much. Sam was empty. On he walked, forlorn. He looked down and spotted a quarter. He went out of his way to pick it up, figuring he would need all the money he could get for food. All he had in his wallet was a measly $36. That would last him a two weeks at the very best. He wasn't too worried though. After all, he had his violin. His violin-the most important thing in the world to him. The thing he loved the most. With his violin, he had overcome nearly all of life's obstacles. And here it would help him through another one. He would play the violin for donations. He could keep a steady income, and maybe even save up for a small apartment and get a job! It was perfect!<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">But wait</span>, he thought to himself.<span style="font-style: italic">If I get a job or buy an apartment, the police could find me. I'll need an alias...</span><br/><br/>Caught up in thought, Samuel didn't realize that he had walked right into an alley. Suddenly realizing where he was, he made a move to turn around... and found his path blocked by three street toughs.<br/><br/>"Hey there, little buddy," said the biggest of the three, a large hispanic man with a scraggly beard and several gold teeth. "Aren't you a little young to be out on the streets alone?"<br/><br/>"I can handle myself," Sam said cautiously as the men slowly stepped closer.<br/><br/>"That's a pretty little case you got there... I wonder whats inside...."<br/><br/>The big man reached for the violin case and Samuel quickly pulled it away and took several paces back. The men now wore sadistic grins and looked at each other excitedly.<br/><br/>"What are we gonna do with him, Ram?" asked the guy on the right, a small, bird-like caucasian man with greasy blonde hair and a bandana.<br/><br/>"I think you know" replied Ram, the large, scraggly hispanic.<br/><br/>At this, the two others looked at each other with a joyful yet frightning glint in their eyes.<br/><br/>"Flint. Chain. Rough 'im up." said Ram with a grin.<br/><br/>Flint, the caucasian, and Chain, a large Asian man with multiple scars and a large steel chain around his neck, slowly came toward Sam. Trembling in fear, Sam was at a total loss of what to do. He began to cry. He was scared. He cried and cried and cried. And through his sobbing he heard Ram shout...<br/><br/>"Shut that kid up!"<br/><br/>This was immediately followed by a savage kick to the stomach delivered by Chain. Then Flint joined in, mercilessly beating Sam across the face. Sam fell to the ground battered. Flint and Chain continued kicking him mercilessly until Sam went for his knife. It didn't even leave his pocket. Ram saw the motion before Samuel's hand was even halfway to the weapon.<br/><br/>"You little shit!" Ram said as he removed the knife from Sam's pocket along with his wallet. "You think you can fight us? You're nothin' out here, kid. And your gonna stay nothin' as long as I'm here."<br/><br/>Ram delivered his own kick to Sam's face, and went for the violin case. As he opened the lid and scanned the beautiful worksmanship on the instrument and considered how much it was worth, Sam came to his senses. Drawing on his inner animal, Samuel jumped to his feet, raced past the two thugs and attacked Ram. Samuel clawed at his face, bit at his skin, anything he could do to protect his prized possession. But Ram wasn't stunned for long. He threw Sam into a wall, and as Ram rose, Sam's heart sunk. Ram had fallen on the violin. The huge man's girth had smashed the beautiful instrument into pieces. Sam felt his insides turn to liquid. The last part of his former life and the beginning of his new one was gone. He blacked out.<br/><br/>He woke up in agony. He was suprised he was still alive. He had many more injurys than he did before he passed out. He could only assume that the gangsters had continued beating him until they assumed he was dead. But he wasn't. He was battered, badly injured even, but not dead. He looked at the shattered remains of his most prized possession. He felt for his knife and wallet. They were gone. He bowed his head. The anger built up in Sam's young, damaged body. He sat there for a good 10 minutes. Then finally, he muttered something.<br/><br/><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">"Revenge..."</span><br/><br/>Then with a bestial vigor that came from the depths of his heart, he screamed it to the heavens!<br/><br/>"<span style="font-weight: bold">REVENGE!!!!!!!!!!!!</span>"<br/><br/>And with that he fell, panting in the alleyway, surrounded by blood, losing consiousness yet again. And it was at that moment, right before he blacked out, that he knew what his alias would be.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Krieger...</span><br/><br/>And with that, the young man let go, and finally sleep came. Undisturbed, peaceful sleep. It mocked him. The easiness of the slumber laughed in the face of the troubles and pain he would soon suffer. But those were troubles for a later date. For now, the boy now known as Krieger, would sleep...