1

"I fucking hate hangovers."

The stars light up the night sky as David sat by himself at a bar he found on a small street. The bar itself was empty; only the bartender and David were inside. It was also small in size. Four tables were along the wall across from the bar counter, providing about four feet of space between the tables and counter. The counter was made out of wood and five bar stools were in front of the counter. An assortment of liquor hanged on shelves behind the counter. There wasn't any signs that prohibited smoking, so David pulled out a pack of cigarettes he keeps on him and lights one. He puts his lips on the cigarette and inhales some nicotine. He breaths out and the rancid smell of smoke fills up the room. He puts the cigarette on a nearby ashtray as the bartender slides over the meal he ordered. Scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast, and a couple of sausage links that came with a fork and knife. He started eating like a proper human. Eggs first then the toast. David was halfway through the second piece of toast when the palm of his left hand started to itch. A few seconds later, the front door opens and David heard three sets of feet. He don't look. He wanted to finish his meal. David grabbed the knife and started slicing up one of the sausages as someone takes a seat next to him. David glanced at the person next to him while he chewed. Male, average body, little bit of facial hair, military cut hairstyle, and was wearing blue jeans with a shirt that said: Same shirt different day. The stranger asked the bartender for steak; cooked rare. The bartender nods and goes into the kitchen.

"Today sucks." the stranger said while David ate the second sausage.

He couldn't care less what the stranger said. The stranger went on saying how he lost his job earlier this week which followed to his wife leaving him yada yada lost his home yada yada. David finished eating his sausage when the stranger said something he didn't hear clearly.

"Can you repeat that?" David asked with in a gravelly voice.

"I got a second chance to get everything I lost." the stranger said.

"That's good."

"Yeah. All I have to do is be a distraction."

After speaking, the glass window behind us breaks and the ashtray next to David shattered. David grabbed the stranger next to him, who had a combat knife in his hand. Another bullet makes a hole in the glass window and impacted the man David grabbed around the neck area. Not even a second later, a swarm of bullets came at David. His meat shield friend absorbed most of the bullets that the stranger's friends happened to fire. David pushed the corpse into the two assassins and jumped behind the counter and ducked his head before another blitz of bullets came, chipping chunks of wood off the counter. David reached into his trench coat with his left hand and pull out his M9 Beretta. Three seconds. Two seconds. One second. Now! David stands up and fire off a few shots before ducking back down. He hears someone fall and another person scream in pain. He peeks out of the corner of the counter. One assassin was down, a hole in his head, and the other David couldn't see. David focuses his sight out of the window. The darkness outside covers the sniper's position, but the single glare coming off his scope gave away his position. David sees a flash of light and pulls his head back before the bullet impacted the ground next to him. David looks around for anything that can help. Bottles won't work and he can't trick the sniper from his position. Another gunshot ringed in the air and a hole appears next to David.

"Bingo." David said to himself.

He looks through one of the holes in the counter and found the scope's glare. He put the muzzle of the M9 in the hole and kept pulling the trigger until he was empty. Ten seconds. Nine seconds. Eight seconds. Someone banged on the door. Five seconds. David moves to the other end of the counter, throwing the empty magazine out, and putting a fully loaded magazine in. Two seconds. One second. Zero. David stands up with his gun ready. No bullets were being fired at him, but he kept his gun up. He looks at the door and noticed the other assassin was trying to open the door. The assassin had two bullet wounds. One in his leg, probably shot an artery, and one on his left wrist. He doesn't have much time before he bleeds out. David grabs the assassin by the hair and drags him to the counter, leaving a trail of blood. David looks behind himself and didn't see a glare off a scope, but it was much darker where the sniper was positioned. David turned around and tapped the assassin's face with the M9 and the assassin focuses on David.

"Now that I have your attention, I want some answers. Who sent you after me?" David asked.

The assassin spits out blood before saying "Go die in hell."

"Oh really." David said with sarcasm. David yanks his arm back and smacks the assassin with the M9. Blood comes out of his mouth and he starts wheezing. "You going to answer now?" David asked again, sticking the barrel of the M9 into the assassin's leg wound. He screams in pain as David began to twist the M9.

"Okay! Okay!" the assassin screams. "Some people hired us! They said that you were a wanted fugitive! They said they would give us $15,000 each if we killed you!"

David pulls out the gun and sticks it on the assassin's forehead. "Give me a name." He asked.

"I don't know! They didn't say their names."

David points the M9 at the assassin's other leg and fire the M9. The assassin screams in agony as blood seeps through the new wounds.

"Remember a name now?!" David said.

"Mara! One of them said something about a woman named Mara! That's all I know!"

"Good." David said putting the M9 at the assassin's forehead. "Thanks for your cooperation."

The assassin briefly opened his mouth before David pulled the trigger. A little bit of blood sprays on David's trench coat. Another four kills added to his name. David wondered if this "Mara" was associated with "them". Putting the M9 back into his trench coat, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Taking a cigarette out, he light it and started to smoke again. The cigarette hanged off his lips as he opened the front door and walks away from the bar. The itchiness from his left hand dissipated. David knew that he's gotta relocate again. He turned the corner just as a cop car was speeding towards him. The car's tires screeched as it stops in front of David. Two officers gets out and pulls out their guns at him.

"Freeze!" one of them yells at David. "Put your hands up, turn around, and get on your knees!"

David does exactly as the officer said. He put my hands up, turned around, and got on to his knees. He heard both of them walk towards him and two sharp, electrifying pains shoots from David's neck and inner thigh. All of his muscles tense up and he falls to the ground, spitting his cigarette out. The last thought David had before passing out was "Here we go again."