DISCLAIMER: All characters and elements in this story are completely fictional, however based on real sources.
I was walking home on a really late night… coming back from my 21st birthday… still quite drunk. It was a wonderful party, my friends from college brought me an impromptu flamethrower that they MacGyvered from materials stolen from the chemistry class, and a Jerrycan of gasoline. I also happened to drink 6 cans of beer. It was dark, it was a new moon. So dark, in fact, that I almost didn’t see the white van driving down the street.
My name is Friedrich. I always had a hero complex. So much so, that it would often get me in trouble. I learned mixed martial arts, thinking it would make me a hero of some sort. I would always be the one to try and help if anything happened, like when one of my friends slipped on a soda can and smashed his face into the concrete. I was the one who called 9-1-1, and was the one to support his bleeding head. This would also put me in awfully dangerous situations, since I would never run, no matter the odds.
Most people were leaving the party, usually holding a beer can or a container of food. I was walking home, with 2 imported beer cans in my backpack and my ad hoc flamethrower. I was nearly run over by the white van. It motored down the street, almost like it was sightseeing. I shrugged it off, since my town was a popular tourist spot. Although I had never seen tourists in that kind of vehicle. And not this late at night. Suddenly, they stopped, near where my friend Matthew was walking. Two men hopped out, and Matthew began to walk faster. I noticed, and kept my eyes locked on the two men.
One of the two men was getting awfully close to Matthew. He was in a full sprint by now. The man tackled him. I, in my drunk mind, decided to help instead of running away. I forgot about the flamethrower, and charged at the man. I hit him head on, and brought him down. He struggled, and muttered something in Spanish. I had him in a headlock, which I executed perfectly because of my mixed martial arts training. All I remember is a hard object hitting my head, and me blacking out.