I bolted sideways and ducked under a table

I slipped into the Jimmy’s bar, glancing at his shady customers. Three, all sitting around and nursing drinks. All three had trench coats, upturned collars and fedoras. That just screamed I’m-a-shady-customer. Not to mention they were in Jimmy’s bar.
“Hey Jim!” I called, “Give me a vo-”

“What are you doing here!?” He yelled at me, eyes rolling with sudden fear.

“Don’t worry! I’m just here to kill your fucking ass!” I hollered happily at him. I bolted sideways and ducked under a table.

Jimmy’s bullets hit the walls ineffectively. He’d pulled an illegal out from under the bar. I shook my head with pity. Didn’t he know how ineffective the foriegns were?

I rolled from under the table and brought my knife up in an arc, though Jimmy’s neck. It jarred against the jaw bone effectively slicing Jimmy’s chin in two.

The three regulars all reach for their holsters. . . .

Jimmy quickly reached for toward his holster, blood bubbling from his sawed face. But not fast enough as my carbon steel combat knife burst through the back of his neck, killing him instantly.

A small amount of disgust washed through me as his blood splattered on my clean shirt. Why did I always end up in a fight while I was wearing my clean clothes?!

Jimmy fell, the clutching his neck as thick, rich blood spurting out of the sliced arteries. As he hit the floor with a thump the blood began to pool around his mutilated face.

The regular patrons had drawn their weapons now. They were all drunk, but their large powerful builds attested to their mercenary occupation which equates to shady.

The lethal hail of bullets sprayed where I was a second before. These men were good, but definitely not good enough. I had ducked behind the bar a few seconds before they’d even pressed the trigger.

I drew my Dual Jericho’s and spun out of cover, firing lead everywhere.

I revelled in the noise of my bullets hitting home. The men’s screams were music to my ears and the smooth metal of my babies felt better than any woman.

THUNK. . . THUNK THUNK . . . chick chick chick

“Oh fuck. . .”

I twirled back behind the bar, dancing and moving in rhythm with the battle. The delirious joy that came with such an awesome performance gave me a high and I laughed.

There was a hail of gunfire from the last regular. I temporarily discarded my empty pistols; laying my babies down gently and carefully.

‘Hmm P90 Auto. . . lovely sound. . .’

I vaulted the counter and my foot just touched the chair as I threw myself over the table. I flipped slightly just as the last man re-adjusted his aim, and brought my foot around.

My kick smashed squarely into his side. His head gave a sickening, satisfying crunch as it contacted with the main pylon. The man sprawled over the cracked tile floor, pooling blood.

I stood up and looked at the destruction around me, savouring the mayhem.

“Damn it, Jimmy. Shouldn’t have charged me fifty cents extra.” I muttered. I lovingly picked up my pistols and put them back in their holsters, jumped the bar and helping myself to the always well stocked shelf.

I glanced at myself in the mirror and frowned. This was my good shirt too.