The bullet almost hit Spade.
"You fucking dumbass!" yelled Diabla as she shot the shooter. "Now, why are you here, Damijin?"
"Same old Diabla," snickered Spade. "I'm here to come see some old friends."
Diabla wasn't buying it.
"Cut the bullshit, Dami. You came here because you got the cops in every state on your ass, that's why!"
"Aw, fuck it. I wasn't gonna tell you just yet," moaned Spade. "Some dirty cops were in a drug running and money laundering scandal. My brother-in-law found out about it and was silenced the hard way by those badge-wearing bastards!"
"And let me guess, you did things the way of the Snypa?" crowed Diabla.
"Ding, ding, ding! The trigger happy bitch is right! Bob, tell her what she's won!" Spade mocked.
"Fuck you. But seriously, you've been all over the news for the past four years. First you kill crime lord Lee Bernan, the Yakuza, the Russian Mafia, and last but not least, you're officially a cop killer wanted dead on arrival by the FBI."
"Oh, yeah, that's--" Spade started. " DOA?! You've got to be shitting me!"
"Yeah, Dami, it looks like the feds have it in for your ass. I wouldn't wanna be you."
Spade was surprised and confused, and then the look of confusion turned to a burning rage. He grabbed his bike helmet and pulled his shotgun from his back holster.
"Dami, what the fuck are you doing?" demanded Diabla.