At first everything had looked fine at the Villa Cucina. The couple at the table at the window seemed to have some kind of trouble, but that was their problem. The lone, corpulent man at the other window, silently reading his paper... Murdock wondered, what he was doing at the Villa Cucina, eating out alone... Maybe he was simply a bachelor sick of yet another ready made meal at home.
Only the two men at the table in the middle seemed a little odd. But then, why not two men eating out together? Murdock planned on doing that one himself one day soon.
So, everything was fine: Sal standing behind the counter, whining about how nobody ever came in on Mondays, guests as well as staff, Gina laughing at it lovingly, before returning to the kitchen to her pizzas and noodles.
Murdock looked around the dining area, it was pretty empty. Looked like he was in for a boring evening. Ah, he wished Face had come along, after all.
"Hey, a beer," the younger of the two men in the middle ordered.
"Certainly, sir," Murdock answered in his finest, most polite waiter's voice, not letting on how much the man's rude tone irked him. Partly because he was a waiter now, and waiters were always polite, no matter what. But partly he didn't let show, because he had caught a quick glimpse of the younger man's .357 Magnum tucked in a holster at his side.
Murdock's inner alarm went off the moment he saw the gun. A lot of robberies had taken place in the area lately, and Murdock feared that those two were planning on something. Maybe first have a bite, and then instead of paying, robbing Sal. 'Just you try,' Murdock thought grimly. 'You are not gonna rob my boss. Not you, not anybody.'
Soon he had a plan ready. Basically all he needed to do was disarm the man. So he returned to the table, bowed like he wanted to serve the beer, tipped the tray, the glass toppled over the edge, right into the lap of the younger guy with the gun.
"Sorry, so sorry, sir," Murdock quickly apologized, dabbing the man dry, and while doing so, he pulled the gun from his holster.
"Hey!" The man protested furiously, reaching out for his gun, now in Murdock's hand.
'Damn, but Face could have done this without that guy noticing it,' Murdock thought, before he pulled back his fist to land it on Young Man's chin. He felt his knuckles connect with the bone, cursing inwardly about the pain. Damn, where's BA when –
He heard the shot before he felt the pain.
Of course, after the initial shock the pain ruled his world completely. He was dimly aware that he had fallen to the floor, must have. You didn't collect a bullet in the stomach, and kept standing.
"Who is that freak?" He heard Young Man ask, a little beside himself.
"Calm down, Joey," another man replied, most likely his skinny friend. "Whoever he is, he's out of the way, so cool down."
"Where there's one, there may be more," another voice joined in. Murdock looked and realised it was the corpulent man from the window. Murdock saw a gun in his hand, and realised that he must have been the one who'd shot him. The man didn't even look down at him, instead he looked at the skinny man, "Angelo, you and Joey, get him out of here. Carry him into the kitchen. Everything must look alright in here, when the Attorney General comes. Understood?"
Whatever happened next, Murdock didn't get it, because he was being moved – carried into the kitchen – and being moved sent hot flashes of pain through his body. The cold tiles of the kitchen-floor brought back his senses for a moment, but soon only added to his already alarming condition. He was feeling a coldness that could not stem from the tiles alone, and he perfectly well knew what that meant. Further self-diagnosis brought up quickened heart-rate and laboured breathing. – Wonderful, if he didn't act fast, he was going to die.
Not that he hadn't been there a couple of times, but usually he had one of the team with him. This time it was only him, a frantic Gina, a shocked Sal, and two thugs staring mercilessly down at him.
TBC