Who: Ratbarf Trevor Kowalski (Old Pyro) and OPEN TO ANYONE What: Being In LA Where: Hollywood & Vine When: 4:20 pm Rating: TBD Incomplete
Trev stood on the corner of Hollywood and Vine just because that was the kind of corner somebody ought to stand on when they're in LA for the first time. He'd been to a lot of places - fifth rule of punk rock house is if somebody has a working car, and there's enough room to pack another body in when they leave, you pack your body in there, no matter whether they're going to the corner store for some cigarettes or all the way to Florida - but since LA was basically a slag heap back home, he'd never been there.
If anybody who'd been watching tv in the spring of 2025 was around, they'd have recognized him from the Game, because his Blue Team "uniform" was (once you removed the mandatory gas mask and welder's goggles) identical to the kind of thing he wore every day: sapphire-blue mohawk, hand-painted Doc Martens (flames rising out of the soles, "THE GOD OF HELLFIRE" scrawled on the outside of one shank, anarchy symbols and skulls), studded leather biker jacket (with the sleeves cut off, because being a Pyro was hot work, plus that way you could see his assortment of mostly-non-professional inkwork) and kilt.
He was trying to decide whether the fact that it was technically his own fuel tank that fragged him out of the game counted to give him another count to finish off the hash marks he'd tattooed on his arm - there was one with only four lines to it and it looked kind of shitty that way - when some dumbass ran into him.
"What, am I not obnoxious-looking enough for you? Blind asshole."
If the guy was actually legally blind, that would be hilarious.