Here are the first few paragraphs of my new story

This is my new story called Shadow Wars. Pierre is NOT French, that's just a nickname which is explored later on in the story. Anyways, here it is!

Ah, where to begin with a story like this. It’s an adventure story, to be sure. There’s lots of fighting. Oh, and I had better not forget the robot. So the only way to begin is with all of these three elements present. That’s it; a bar fight.

The room shook as the four arms of the Retelarian drunk slammed Pierre into the wall of the crowded gambling room. It was just another Saturday for him.
“Devian, buddy, you just gotta listen to me,” Pierre said in Common. “You win some, you lose some.”
“I don’t lose!” the drunk said as he slid him across the table. He landed on the ground with a thud.
“Look man, you’re just drunk. Let’s not do anything too stupid,” Pierre said, his voice wavering in and out. The Retelarian jumped onto the table and clenched all four of his meaty hands into fists that resembled full turkeys. Pierre rolled out of the way just in time before the four fists slammed into the floor next to him.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve lost my fair share of games in my time.” If he had been honest, this was his first time even playing.
“Devian lose to no one!” the giant Retelarian roared as he raised his gigantic head, clenching his facial muscles up, obviously preparing to slam his head into Pierre’s. Retelarians had evolved thick skulls for the purpose of headbutting. Pierre should know: after all, he had been the first human to discover their home world. He also knew that he only had a few split seconds before he said goodbye to life. He closed his eyes, his back against the wall, waiting… and waiting… and waiting. After a few seconds he opened his eyes again and saw his robotic companion Reginald standing over the steaming body of Devian. He had Pierre’s laser in his hand.
“To be honest I wasn’t very scared,” he said as he took his gun and slid it back into its holster inside of his lime green form-fitting suit, right beside the INHU badge on his chest. “I’ve been in more than one situation like that. They usually work out alright.”
“Usually because I tend to tag along,” Reginald added. The attention of the entire bar was on the two.
“Hey, you put in anymore lip and I’ll get you that new personality chip, I’m not kidding,” Pierre retorted jokingly.
“I came here to tell you it’s time to leave. If you’re late on more time Commander Johnson said he’d kick you down a notch.”
“Wish he would just end my contract and let me become a free roaming explorer again.”
“After the incident on JL999 I don’t think that will be happening very soon.” Pierre thrust the door open onto the dark streets of Ceterra, the new center of the Universe ever since Earth had entered into the galactic spotlight along with the invention of Hyperspace technology. Pierre had been part of the first expeditions into the new frontier. However, that was the least of his worries as he tried to find a taxi that would take him to the INHU headquarters. After hitching a ride with a non-judgemental human that didn’t have a problem with giving a robot with a shady paint job a ride. As the hovering blue car pulled up next to the massive hangar Pierre gave the driver a generous tip as he stepped out of the hovercraft. A beet-faced, pot bellied man with a wretched combover and Hitler-esque mustache was standing there waiting for him.
“Where were you?” he bellowed at Pierre.
“Commander Johnson, look, I had a few hours off so I decided to…”
“Head down to the shady section of town and get as drunk as a Retelarian?”
“I have quite the story about a Retelarian, sir, and it just so happens to…”
“And you, C3-P0, don’t get me started on the use of that blaster. You know full well that that’s only for humans to use. I have the right to wipe your memory and scrap you for parts, at this point!” The old man’s face now had the shade of a ripe tomato.
“I am very sorry, sir. Please just don’t take it out on him,” Pierre said.
“It’s your lucky day, kid. I’ve got news for you from my higher-ups. But after you’re done with them you can expect an unpaid suspension. I’m not going to pull any of my punches.”
“Thank you so much, sir, you’re so merciful. I just can’t thank you enough.”
“Move it Lieutenant. They’re waiting for you on the top floor.”


Why do I think this story is about the Protector of Stone?

Really nice by the way.

@DarkTakanuva Thanks. smile Pierre actually means Rock. I guess that's just what two years of French gets you. On a side note, Glace is not only the French word for ice, but also for ice cream.

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Pretty good, though I wish Reginald spoke in a more robotic voice. He seems too...human?

@Political_Slime Thanks for the tip. I'm planning on doing an almost complete redo of this story. Pierre was beginning to become too much of a loser.