...Pittsburgh

It had been several weeks since he stepped off the Greyhound and back onto the streets of Pittsburgh. He still remembered the smell of the bus station, the snack he had before he had left. She wasn't anything special just another wide eyed traveler getting in a bus tour of the country before the returning to college. The best part about Detroit, he thought smiling, no one even blinks an eye when someone calls for help. He liked it when his food put up a fight and this one didn't disappoint. A quick bathroom hookup gone horribly wrong. Two bloody handprints left pushing on the bathroom stall doors. Who knows, maybe she would look back on that night and smile... Something tells me not.

He took in a breath of air and was emidiatly reminded that he was no longer 'home'. Of all the places he had been forced to live he hated Pittsburgh the most. Even his time at the Mountain had been better. He shook his head trying to let the fuzzy memories go and he ran his hand across his body imagining where scar had been some years earlier. Pittsburgh had left a mark on him that took some time to heal. The mind though not as resiliant as the flesh.

If it was time to be a soldier again he would serve where he was asked. He put on foot in front of the other and started for his old safe houses. Taking the red-eye didn't leave him much time until sun-up.

"I fucking hate Pittsburgh" he muttered as he made his way into the lights.