"Nice tune…" He said as he brought a glass of whiskey to his lips.
He took a draught of the spirit and fought back the aftertaste. A black man on a saxophone filled the bar with jazz and the smoke that hung low hid the faces of troubled fellows looking to drown their sorrows in a shot glass full of tears. He sat alone at the bar, his green hair exploding in every direction and fiery eyes so full of soul they could melt the ice in his glass.
He set down his glass and the bartender filled it with more whiskey. Sliding a tip across the bar to the old man, he caught the reflection off his glass out of the corner of his eye. A man at the table behind him raised his hand from beneath the table and a match struck from a neighbor illuminated the gun in his hand.
He leapt over the bar before the tavern erupted in gunfire and covered his head as glass and liquor rained down on him. The bartender fell at his side, dead and riddled with bullet wounds. He reached over and took back the tip from the bartender's chest pocket and stuffed it into his suit.
Two more men rose from their tables, opening fire on the unsuspecting patrons and the black saxophonist before turning their gunfire in his direction. He reached his hand above the bar and felt blindly across the top for his whiskey, finding it at the same time a bullet shattered the glass. He pulled his hand back and licked the alcohol from his cuts.
Reaching into his blazer, he pivoted into a stoop and pulled out a handgun. A break in the gunshots brought him to his feet and he pulled his trigger on the man who opened fire first, the bullet finding its target and painting the wall behind him with blood.
Leaning into a sideways run, he fired two shots across the tavern and dropped the second shooter. He hurtled the end of the bar and fired at the last man, sending a bullet tearing through his chest and a second into his head.
After returning the gun to his blazer, he picked his coat up from the floor and slid it over his shoulders. The black Armani fell around his knees and he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket. Stepping outside, he placed a cigarette between his lips, lit it, and with an exhale of smoke he disappeared into the night.
Spike Spiegel. One of these days that attitude's gonna get the best of you…