Sitting in a bar for the tenth time this week probably isn't the way most ex-military personal now turned gun for hire would spend their days but it suits me perfectly. Throwing back shots of whiskey and dancing around like a drunken idiot also suits me perfectly. That is until people come in to inquire about my services.
"Hey bar keep. Another round over here." I wave the bartender over and he fills my shot glass up. I nod at him and down the glass. Looking around I notice that the bar is surprisingly empty for a Friday afternoon. I go back to my self indulgent life of boozing and stewing in my own self pity, I had gotten pretty good at it as of now. I hear the double doors open and I look over to see a man in a tailored suit, obviously lost and in the wrong part of town, walk in. I think nothing of it until he walks up next to me and sits down.
" Mister Green right? Daniel Green?" He asks. I take the glass the bartender just filled up for the ninth time tonight and look at him.
"Yeah who's asking?"
"My name is Johnathan Marshal. I work for the Talentine Family. I was asked to locate you because they require your, how do you Americans put it, skill set for a job."
"Talentine? They that big Mafia family out in Florida? Why the hell do they want a washed up ex soldier like me. They have like Forty hit men under their thumbs." I say downing the glass of whiskey.
" Yes that quiet true but one of them, a mister Rico Talen, said they should bring you in on the one he is working on."
"Talen huh?" There was a name I hadn't heard in a while. I was wondering what he was up to. "Whats the gig?" I ask.
"I'm sorry?"
"The job. What is it?"
"Oh right. You'll be working with Talen on a protection job for his niece and nephew."
"Protection? Don't you have enough guys to do that for you?"
"Well in the last six days there have been eight attempts on their lives. Mr. Talentine thought that extra security is a good idea. As for the fee you be payed $10,000 upon arrival and $40,000 after the job is done. Expenses payed for, room and food, living expense budget of $2,000."
"$50,000 for a job plus free room and board?" I knew the job seemed to good to be true but hey, $50,000 was a lot of money and Florida would be a good vacation.
"So will you take the job?" He asks. I look at the empty glass and consider the possibility of another run through the hell hole like the last job I ran with Talen. I eventually nod.
"Sure why the hell not. I need a vacation."
"Great," He pulls out a plane ticket from his pocket and puts it on the bar counter. "Grab what you need tonight. Your plane leaves tomorrow morning. I've also been instructed to ask you for what gun you'll need for the job."
"Don't worry about the gun I got my own. I'll be there just get me a Ferrari Enzo and have it at the airport when I arrive."
"Alright."
With that the small man left me alone and walked out of the bar.
"Finally got a job then Dan?" I look over at the bartender.
"Yeah. Looks like I'll be leave this shitty paradise." I say.
"So sad. That stool will miss your ass." He says. I give him a bad look.
"I'm paying to get wasted not hear crappy jokes." I say.
"Right right." He fills up my glass and walks away.
Another hours passes before I finally decide to get up and leave. I knew I'd get some sleep on the plane so that wasn't problem and the idea of getting away made me, I don't quiet know, happy. But something about leaving also mad me remember the old days here. Sure they weren't always good, hell who am I kidding none of them were good, but something still felt like it belonged here. So with that plane ticket in my pocket and myself drunk as ever I decided to make the drunken journey home. Staggering through the streets of Maine I passed many drugstores and sex shops. No matter where you go men still love sex. Taking a new route home I decide to pass through an alley leading into some unfriendly gang territory. About halfway down the alley 2 gang members holding baseball bats and a knife at their hip decide to stop me.
"Hey old man what are you doing so far from home?" One chimes out. Three more guys walk out behind me. "Yeah" another says.
"Get the hell out of my way." I say.
"Woah looks like we got a fighter. I wonder how much you'd fight if I did this." He takes the bat and hits my side. The blow knocks me over a bit but not off my feet.
"Listen kids you really don't want to fuck with me right now." I say. They laugh at me.
"Looks like he thinks he's a bad ass." one says. So drunk out of my mind and a little pissed off I was about to have to fight my way out of a situation involving 5 armed thugs. Almost doesn't seem fair. The one with the bat takes and a swing and with little effort I side step and punch him in the face with my right hand then with the left I grab the bat and hit the guy with the knife in the head. He drops and as the thug, now without a bat, gets up I hit him in face too. I turn and another swings a crowbar and me. Using the bat I block it and swing at his feet. As he falls I grab the crowbar and bash the guy to left of his head . They both drop. The last pulls a gun and aims at me. I drop the crowbar and bat and put my hands up.
"Not so tough now huh." he says. I laugh then grab the gun and twist it around and pull the trigger. The bullet burrows into his right shoulder and he falls. I pull out the magazine and cock back the barrel and throw the gun on the ground.
"Yeah not fucking tough at all." With that I walk back out onto the street in an attempt to sober up and find my way home. Two things I knew would be impossible with the way the night had gone so far. Supporting myself against the side of the stores I put what little effort I had left into the walk. I got about four blocks before exhaustion and soreness took me over and I collapsed on the street. It wasn't unnatural for me to do that so it didn't come as much of a surprise when I awoke in the heat and newspaper of that day. Weakly I push myself to get up and head home. I grab what little I have, a bottle of booze half drank, old newspaper clipping of my old life, a old book that's been with me forever and some suits that were closer to falling apart than ever being clean again. They said head to the airport in the morning so that's exactly what I did. I arrived around 9:33 and showed my ticket to the lady behind the counter. After a quick phone call to a person I couldn't hear I was escorted to a limousine and driven onto the airstrip. After a brisk walk on a tar mat that burned through my shoes I entered a twin engine private jet. Sitting inside was Talen, dressed in his regular tan suit and dark gray aviators.
"Daniel Green. Good to see you again." he says pulling out a large bottle of whiskey and a two shot glasses. "Drinking still?"
"Do you really have to ask?" I say taking a seat across from him.
"It's been to long my friend. How many years since we ran a mission together?" He asks handing me the glass fully filled with whiskey.
"Last time was in Peru during a investigation." I say downing the glass.
"Well that was a long time ago. I think you'll like the new mission we have. I think the words you used were 'I need a vacation'. The Talentine Family is really generous and have allowed us to sleep in their mansion. You will be allowed to drive their cars and be around them 24/7. The plane should get us there in about 3 hours." He says leaning back.
"Good. I can get nice and drunk by then." With that we began a long party aboard the jet. Drinking away our thoughts and retelling old stories. At least we can still drink on the job.