[center] [h1] The Broken Exhaust [/h1] [/center] 

"Is everything here to your satisfact-" 

The chirpy blonde waitress's heart-shaped face exploded in a chunky blast of gooey matter and dark red blood, splattering the group in gore. She swayed slightly, her mouth still lolled open, before toppling forwards into the booth like some graceful dancer, slumping down onto the smoothe wooden table with a rather dainty 'THUD'. 

The bar erupted suddenly into a frantic whir of panic and confusion, with customers clambering to get out left, right, and centre. 

For the two ex-guardsmen, the world began to move in slow motion, as their eyes traced the laser beam's point of origin to the Shark-toothed man with the telltale gun crouching down in a booth on the other side of the room.

Little Fletcher sprung into action, leaping out of his seat and yanking his Bolter Pistol out of its leather holster, letting off a quick hailstorm of bullets with the squeeze of its trigger. 

A thundering of self-propelled explosive shells rattled through the air, tearing into the booth with ravenous frenzy. The assassin dived backwards, narrowly avoiding the exploding furniture, as he tumbled artfully onto the floor. 

Big Fletcher rolled out of their booth with militaristic precision, letting off an armour-frying beams from his lasgun as he took cover behind a pillar. 

Everything was moving considerably faster for Nisvillia, who suddenly found herself splattered in bits of waitress, and very much alone in her booth. She let out a frustrated hiss, staring down at her designer attire. 

"They got brains on my -FUCKING- jacket!" 

The assassin popped up from his bundled position on the floor, aiming his lasgun squarely at Nisvillia, but a sudden crackle of smouldering laser soon set him darting for cover, leaping across the room and rolling down behind the counter. 

Little Fletcher fired off another three-shot-burst of shells, which shrieked across the room and bit through the soft wooden counter, sending splinters flying all over the bar. 

The assassin just about managed to duck down beneath the roaring gunfire, bullets smashing into the  drinks cabinet behind him, sending jagged shards raining down upon him in a downpour of glass as he crouched beneath the explosive assult. 

Nisvillia squeezed herself awkwardly out of the booth as the thundering of the firefight wailed in her ears, having to suck in her enormous gut somewhat as she heaved herself uncomfortably between the table. The room had become unbearably hot, and her thighs were chaffing together as she pulled her scoped laspistol out of its pocket in her jacket, lamenting the fact that she'd probably have a new set of rashes to tend to later that day. 

Ejecting an empty clip, Little Fletcher holstered his defunct bolter, before drawing his serrated combat knife, and padding cautiously towards the counter. 

Big Fletcher, shooting Little Fletcher a silent nod, aimed his lasgun where they'd last seen the assassin duck down, ready to melt him into so much fried goo when he next popped back up. 

Little Fletcher took one more calculated step forwards, then suddenly the assassin came hurtling over the counter in a berserk blur of speed, clutching a steak knife in his scarred hand. The Shark-toothed thug battered Little Fletcher's fist down before he could raise it, and in a furry-driven flash of steel his steak knife had slashed straight through the giant man's jugular, sending hot blood pitter-pattering across the counter. 

Big Fletcher let our a feral snarl from across the room, rapidly squeezing the trigger of his lasgun and sending a searing blast of crackling energy flying through the bar. The shark-toothed assassin firmly spun Little Fletcher into the path of the projectile, and the laser ripped through his body armour, melting padding and skin alike in an agonizing torrent of scolding blue flame.

Blood bubbled in Little Fletcher's mouth, his eyes rolling back into his head, and with a sharp push his humongous corpse dropped to the floor, a pool of dark red spilling out at he crashed down with a heavy 'THUNK!' 

Big Fletcher adjusted his aim, but the assassin was quicker; firing off a blast of laser with a swift squeeze of the weapon's trigger. Scorching energy smashed into Big Fletcher's chest, blowing a hole straight through his tanned flesh. A muffle d gasp oozed out of his lips, and then the ex-guardsman collapsed in a bloody heap on the floor.

[i] KRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH! [/i]

A stream of laser from Nisvilia's scopped-pistol hissed through the air, blowing out the back of Ralph the Shark's feral likeness. A dark red smear splattered across the floor, and then the assassin fell to the ground for the finale time. 

The young woman stood alone in the suddenly silent bar, the flabby mass of her obese body splattered with dark blood. Her breathing had become raspy and jagged, with her boulder-like belly rising and falling with each staggered wheeze. 



"Fuck me, I need a drink."