• In a dark empty bar, in the slums of the city, the gunslinger woke.

    His face was plastered to the pressed wood table as his eyes fluttered open. A splitting headache greeted him when he tried to stand up too quickly. Where the hell am I? The man thought as he ran his hand through his messy aubrun hair and down to the scraggly beard that adorned his face. A glance around the room revealed nothing of note, and slowly the events of last night poured in like whiskey in a shot glass.

    It had been just another night for the gunslinger. Whiskey, women, the occasional brawl and the discomfort of waking up with a hangover. But one thing always remained the same about these nights. "Rosey!" The man called out into the empty room, knowing full well the bartender was waiting for him.

    Sure enough, at his summons a red haired young woman came out from behind the bar with the man's usual morning coffee and eggs. It was a dance the two had perfected. Rosey, or as she preferred to be called Rosalind, plopped the tray down on the dirty table and made a 'shhh' sound. "Quiet down. You're going to wake up Nadia."
    "Lay off." The man shot back, downing the coffee as soon as it was in his hands. The warm liquid help ease the head pains and put him in a much better mood. "Where's the toast?" Again, another part of their dance.
    "You'll get toast when you start paying for toast." Rosalind replied back, not missing a beat of their dance. "Now hurry up and eat. I need get some sleep." With that curt farewell, she turned on her heel and retired for the night in her loft above the bar.

    The man continued to eat his breakfast, what little of it there was. Despite the pain still raging in his head, a small smile crossed his lips. He and Rosalind went back a long time and it always made him smile to think they hadn't grown apart over the years. She was the rock to his sea, always standing firm against whatever faced her. I should do something nice for her...

    The thought was interrupted by the creak of the old wood door as it opened. The man standing in the doorway was a stark contrast to the man at the table. While the newcomer was wiry and well dressed in a dark black suit, the gunslinger was of a stronger build and clothed in a dusty black trench coat covering a ragged button up shirt and jeans. The man stepped in from the doorway, closing it behind him and taking a seat next to the only other person in the room. "James, is it?"
    "The one and only." The man called James replied, finishing up the eggs. He knew what this was about and there was no use trying to get out of it now. Everyone had to earn their share, and this was how James did it.
    The man in black pulled a small file from his coat, not wasting anytime with small talk. The file was a contrast to the man's suit, save for the red cross emblem on the center. "The target is a former colleague of The Organization. He was a researcher for the cause, but recently he took his work and went rogue. We just received information that he's set up a personal research lab about twenty miles in the east disguised as a Asylum. That's all I'm at liberty to say, the rest is in your file." The second the man in black finished his speech, he rose and walked out of the bar. Gone as quickly as he had come.

    James frowned as he pushed aside the plate and opened up the file. The color was strange to him, he was accustomed to the black 'Kill' files. The sharp white of this folder was new, but if he remember correctly it meant he was to employ non lethal methods.. A quick read of the papers confirmed it, the mission said he was capture this Dr. Von Kraus alive. There were a few other important details involving his work and what to expect but James just skimmed over it. These psychos were all the same. Why should he expect anything different?

    Making sure his silver revolver was tucked tightly into his holster, the man rose up and moved to the door. He had left a note for Rosalind next to the breakfast tray, letting her know he would be gone for a while. The cold morning air licked him when he finally left the bar and stepped into the morning light. A resolve washed over him, a desire to finish this job and come home. Whatever horrible things awaited him beyond this city, he was prepared.

    End of Part 1

    ((Author's note: If you have any feedback, comments, etc. Please leave them in the comments below. Feedback drives my works so if you want a part two let me know and I'll hot foot it. Thanks for reading :3))