In the hot Tennessee heat, sat none other than Callen-Dixon. With a grunt, he scraped himself off of the scorching pavement, leaning against a grimy looking brick wall. He got the shit beat out of him again, and just as always, it was his fault. Very simply, the kid didn't think before he did or said things. Unfortunately for him, Hail wasn't there this time.

He hauled himself along the sidewalk, stumbling slightly. This was the shit side of town, the place he lived, the side of town with criminals, desperate and beaten looking kids, and of course frequent jumpings and killings.

Callen was a strong guy, he was sure of it. So why was he constantly losing fights? Just thinking about it was starting to piss him off as he scattered down the streets looking in shambles. Of course he always looked like he was in shambles, but more so now than usual.