Noon, he knew that much. The sweat rolled off of his forehead like rain off of a stain glass window. You know how, when you’re in church and it runs off of the windows like the tears of a widow in mourning.
      That was how the sweat looked, that was how the sweat felt, it just wasn’t how it smelt, and that was the farthest thing from his mind now, and he was currently holding his Colt M1911 to his forehead, uttering a silent prayer, a prayer to whatever God was listening. From beneath his dark black sunglasses, Douglas Jay Falcon, was hoping that his infamous luck wouldn’t run out on him now, not when he still had ‘her’ to think about.
      He looked through one of the massive holes shot through the counter by his foe’s shotguns. He saw them, looking calm, cool, and ready for anything to move and get blown away by them, which gave him an idea. Reaching over to his side, and grabbing a bottle of Cognac, he looked over his shoulder again at his numbers, and counted his options: three behind him looking around for him, and two guarding the door in case someone should try and come through. ‘Only five’ he thought. ‘They’ve obviously underestimated me, not good for them’ he thought once again.
      Uncorking the bottle, Falcon grabbed a washrag and stuffed it into the top of the bottle, and lit it. One that was done, he threw it over his shoulder, igniting all the Alcohol bottles that his attackers had shot up when they had arrived there.
      The trick had worked, and his attackers had been so distracted by the sudden blaze, that they didn’t notice Falcon jump over the counter, and turn in midair, pointing his pistols directly at them.
       One of the thugs turned out of the corner of his eye, to see a man in a dark blue business suit, topped with a blue Fedora hat and big sunglasses, jumping over the bar, and shooting directly at them. Those were the last things he remembered seeing as he felt two, or maybe three shots connect with his forehead, he couldn’t tell since he felt his life slipping away after the first one had connected, he looked on to see his fellow comrade fall as well, while the other had dove over him as he was shot down, afterwards, everything went black for the man.
      Falcon had succeeded in killing two of his attackers, while the other one had dove and covered under a table nearby. Falcon had recovered by turning in mid air, rolling on the ground, and rolling towards the two guards and shooting the both of them in the stomach, and then following up with a double shot to the both of their heads.
      Falcon just barely dodged a bullet across his cheek and rolled over to a table, and pulled it down, intending to use it as a makeshift shield from his opponent’s bullets, it wouldn’t last long, which was why he had to work fast. He jacked out his empty clip and shoved another in with lightning fast reflexes. He looked over and saw where his opponent was, and saw he was a few tables over, using his own table as a shield. ‘Similar situation’ Falcon mused to himself as he levered his pistol into a position that he could pull it up to fire.
      Counting down from three, Falcon leaned back and fired off three shots in rapid succession, through the same hole, which pierced the table in between Falcon and his opponent, and the table his opponent was using as a shield. The shield soon wore out its usefulness once the third shot went through, and went right through Falcon’s attacker, right through his chest to be precise.
      Falcon looked over his kill, the bullet hadn’t pierced the man’s heart like so many of Falcon’s other kills, this shot had gone a good inch above his heart. Falcon stooped down and looked the man over and pressed the barrel of his Colt right into the man’s wound, and began to speak, intending to get some information from the man before he left this world and arrived in the next.
      “So, lemme guess, you’re one of Wario’s guys, I’m not surprised, after all, subtlety was never one of your strong points” Falcon said coolly as he pressed the gun barrel down a little harder.
      “Don Wario won’t stop until every last one of his enemies is eliminated, he won’t stop ahhh..!!” his threats went unfinished as Falcon’s gun barrel burrowed even further into the man’s gunshot wound.
      “Then it looks like, I’m going to be putting in some extra hours at the office” Falcon said as he slowly stood up and reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a round of C4, plastic explosive. He knew that the men who had arrived here had made calls for backup, which meant that he had to get ready for every last one of them.

      Hours later, an expensive town car pulled up to the bullet riddled bar and surveyed the situation. Bodies’ lay everywhere, their blood mixed with the random booze, and other types of liquor. Glass and empty bullet shells lay within them like stones in a stream lying amongst the running liquid.
      “Christ, look at this, the boss is gonna have all of our asses for this” one man said. “Yeah, total massacre, guess this guy obviously isn’t as rusty as people like to make him out to be” said another. “Thirty six years old and takes out some of our best men like they were nothing more than a bunch of rookies, unbelievable”
      Falcon sat outside on the other side of the street, clad in a trench coat, and located across from the now bullet and blood riddled speakeasy, and calmly held the device in his hands, his fingers, hovering over one of the buttons, all the while, Falcon took in everything they said, being thankful that no one had come out from their homes yet from the previous shootout, now hoping that some of the men would mutter out something important.
      “Shut the door” one of the men ordered. The door was shut, but Falcon, still listened in, thanks to some of the shot out windows. “So, you think the boss is going to call him in?” one of the men mentioned. “Who knows, that guys a loose cannon, and is completely out of control, but he just might be our only advantage against the guy.”
      “So he’s really calling in Blood?” The man asked, which was heard loud and clear by Falcon, on the outside, who looked like he had just seen a ghost, so startled that he had almost dropped the device that he held in his hand.
      “Looks that way, come on, we gotta go tell the boss about this” the other man said as he walked over to the door, only to find that it wouldn’t budge and inch, he tried again and saw some sort of thick ooze forming around the lock, that ooze could be only one thing: “Glue, Somebody’s glued us in!!” The man shouted, as he pulled frantically, and vainly at the door in an attempt to get he and his associate free from their prison.
      Falcon listened in intently as he heard the men struggle to get free. He ignored them, and responded by clicking the button on the device, turning the building into a pile of rubble. The C4 had done it’s job, just as the glue on the door’s lock had, sealing the men in as their building prison exploded around them, killing them in the process.
      So, the situation was so desperate, that they were calling him back in. Him, of all people, the man who was almost like a brother to him, the man who would not rest until he had Falcon’s blood on his hands.
      He only hoped that She wouldn’t be brought into the picture. She had been through enough in their war.
      “So, how long will it be until you’ve come back into the picture this time Blood? Will we settle the score this time? Or will this vendetta just continue on again?” Walking back towards the direction of Don Mario’s headquarters, back to business, back to the gang, and to prepare for an upcoming war, one that would hopefully finally put an end to the bloodshed, and hopefully, give them a chance to be free of this life, now and forever.