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	There was a soft patter as the bartender placed a new drink in front of Jeremiah. Looking up briefly Jeremiah gave a thankful smile, and huddled around the drink. His eyes drowned in the cheap booze before him, his stomach told him he was done drinking and his head started to burn with the desire for something else. 

	He stared at his dark reflection and smiled, he couldn’t be rude. Sitting up he lifted the drink to his lips and slammed it into his waiting mouth. The instant the burn creeped up his tongue he knew he made a mistake. His body refused to swallow and he was stuck with a mouthful of the whiskey, his cheeks puffed like a chipmunks hiding a winter’s prize.

	Quickly he scanned his crew members, Lynette was chatting at him but all he heard were gurgles behind his own ears. His head jumped through all the ways he could handle this when Poole suddenly barged from the bathroom, said something, and pushed his way out of the establishment. The exit door swung wide and Jeremiah took it as a sign. Leaping from his stool he disregarded the sharp “Hey, you have to pay!” as he sprinted full speed out of the bar.

	The blast of heat from the powerful sun slapped him across the face as he exited, shooting right by the thuggish bouncer. He sharply turned the corner into the shade of the conjoining alley and as soon as he did, the contents of his stomach spewed from his mouth, lukewarm whiskey first. He heaved, his face burned with strain, and a second wave dribbled out.

	He clamped his eyes shut, not able to see through blurry tears as a third bout rocketed from his throat, burning his esophagus on the way out. Breathing heavy he slowly opened his eyes, tears dripping from the corners. He smiled, it was over. 

	Jeremiah’s eyes focused as he stood leaning towards the wall, and he noticed two terrified eyes staring back up at him.

	“Oh…” Jeremiah stood up straight, “my B-”

	Suddenly a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. He didn’t quite recognize the grappler’s face as the burly man shook Jeremiah around by the collar, but the voice sounded extremely familiar. 

	“You little shit!” the angry man yelled, “I’m sick of little pukes like you thinking you can just drink and dash like this is some community well.”

	“Woah!” Jeremiah finally managed to speak, the whole world spinning still, “I would never-”

	“You just did!”

	“Did what?”

	The bouncer pushed Jeremiah into the wall, an angry scowl on his face as well as faded tattoo’s on his neck. If Jeremiah had to guess, he wasn’t hired for his professionalism. 

	The thug put a stiff hand on Jeremiah’s chest, holding him against the wall with an arm like a tree trunk, “listen buddy.” 

	“Odd choice of words.”

	“Listen freak.”

	“Much better.”

	“Hand over the credits.”

	Jeremiah made a face, “front right pocket, and don’t try anything or I will be charging you some credits”

	The bouncer snorted as he rammed a beefy hand into Jeremiah’s pocket, pulling out nothing but a piece of lint and a very conspicuous 9mm bullet.

	Looking up at Jeremiah, the man seemed extremely unimpressed.

	“I must’ve left it in my other pants, or you know, the bar.”

	A fist zoomed towards Jeremiah’s face, the engineer managing to wiggle away in time for the hammer like hand of the Bouncer to crack against the rough brick exterior of the building with a painful howl. Quickly Jeremiah hooked his foot behind the Bouncer’s ankle and swept his feet from under him. The bullet went flying in the air as the large man tumbled into a pool of vomit as well as the smelly stranger who for some reason hadn’t left.

	Jeremiah snatched the 9mm out of the air and turned to leave as he heard the unmistakable crunch of the big man’s jaw hitting the pavement, but as he did his eyes widened like saucers. Four equally large brutes were walking into the alley, all wearing the same black shirt as the one lying in the bile, and each wearing a very very annoyed face.  




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