business as usual?

"Why do I have to wear this stupid disguise, its not like any of these assholes know who I am anyway." The Man said, grumbling to his earpiece.

"Why do we gamble when statistically we know we know we're going to lose more times than not?" The voice on the other end shot back.

"I'm not seeing how that is in any way related to what I just asked." Replied The Man while walking out of a dingy bathroom stall, slightly confused and very annoyed at this point.

"Because its fun."

"I doubt that's why everyone gambles. And if that's your reason for gambling you should probably call the number they give you on the app."

"You're just a stick in the mud who can't appreciate other's efforts to liven up a tense situation."

"I look like fucking Blankman."

"I'm too young to understand that reference and it probably wasn't funny anyway."

"You wouldn't know funny if you watched a documentary about it. What am I supposed to do from here anyway? I can't go out there like this."

"Every time the suspects come to this place they stay for 3 hours, and every 20 minutes give or take they go to the back alley to smoke, right now you have got about 10ish minutes to setup and get the drop on them"

The Man in the questionable disguise raised an eyebrow. "Suspects?" he said with a raised voice.

"It's just a euphemism." The voice replied.

"I'm sure there's better words to use but it's your world girlie."

A huskier male voice suddenly chimes in through the earpiece. "I'd hate to interrupt you girls’ mid conversation but we have things we have to get done. And I'd like to not screw this up."

The Man, talking to the female voice, "Pssh, and you call me a stick in the mud, I'm Rodney Dangerfield compared to this guy." The Man, switching to the husky male voice, " You'll be home before your wife can get up and take her morning piss."

"I'm divorced" the husky voice said. But he still found the humor in it.

"ex-wife then. the sentiment still stands."

The female voice joining in again, "And I don't know who that Dangerfield guy is either but being cooler then Mr. divorced over here isn't a high bar to clear."

The Man, now talking to both voices, "You guys just make sure its the dark side of moon in that alley, I don't need any eyes on me."

"They're about to go for a smoke! cut the small and lets all get to work." The husky voice said now noticeably agitated.

"You sound like you just came from a smoke, or three." The Man retorted back, gaining an audible chuckle from the female voice. Doubling down on the joke, the female quipped, "He smells like it too.", which gained an even louder laugh from The Man as he climbed into the vents to get back outside and to the alley.

"You both are fucking childish." The husky voice was not amused at those remarks. Just get fucking job done.”

"Liven up a tense situation.", The Man thought as he crawled through a ventilation system that will probably put someone in early retirement. He stops when he gets to a vent overlooking the back alley. A few minutes later four men come out of the building and go across the alley under a streetlight. Butterflies form in The Man's stomach; fight or flight, and unfortunately for these men tonight it's fight.

"Eyes on suspects." These guys are normal right? I'm not much for surprises."

The female voice said, "You have the same information we have, because we gave you that information earlier. So why ask?"

"Because I'm hoping if you tell me one more time I might actually believe it."

Then the husky voice questioned, "Why would we lie to you about these guys being juiced? This is our job too. And why do you care it's not like it changes anything for you?"

"I don't think you guys are liars I think you guys are amateurs, and I like to know if there is real work I'm going to have to do, but I guess that's not important now I'll find out when I find out. Cut the lights."

"Out in 3.2.1", the night overtakes everything except the light from four cigarettes.

"Showtime." The Man kicks in the vent and drops down to the ground, smoothly brandishing a custom Colt M1911 equipped with a silencer on the descent. Upon landing he decided to take out the two furthest from him first and fired 2 shots, a few moments later 2 cigarettes drop. One in the neck the other in the cheek. Sloppy work for The Man's standards. Nonetheless two down, two to go. He notices a small flame around the hip area of the man closest to him, he figures the guy must have lit up his lighter to create some field of vision, regardless of how small or pointless.

The Man lets out a slight sigh and starts walking towards the two remaining men; to get guaranteed headshots and to double tap the poor fellow he got in the cheek. He closes half the distance and lets out another two shots, two cigarettes drop, 2 headshots, almost perfect dark except for the lighter that is still going off in the fourth man's hand. still upright. The hair on The Man's arms and neck rose and he fired a fifth shot before he could think about what just happened, another head shot, but again nothing. He put the gun away and decided to get in close to finish it with his hands.

Before The Man could take a step the flame went out, and just as fast he felt a blunt object rocket straight into the bridge of his nose, tilting his head slightly. "Fucker threw the lighter at me!". It takes his focus for just a brief moment, not enough for any normal person to get an advantage, but no normal person can throw anything that hard and The Man clocked that fact instantly; "Fucking amateur's", a quick thought about his peers. A sense of imminent harm overcame his chest and abdomen, and he quickly curled up to protect his midsection and braced his entire body for whatever was coming. That uneasy feeling homed in on his abdomen, an uppercut? Before what had to be a fist but felt like solid concrete could reach its destination The Man blocked it with his arms but gained the momentary power of levitation as the force from the punch takes him off his feet and crashing back into the wall of the bar, making a slight imprint on it and creating a cloud of dust.

The man snaps to his ear, "Everyone is normal huh? Well then what the fuck is this? If I wasn't a professional he would've punched right through me, is that what you call normal?"

The husky voice responded with less conviction than earlier "We scoured every bit of information we could get our hands on there's no way something like that would have gotten past us."

"Fuc....., Goddamn amateurs". he thought to himself. He was trying to limit how many f-bombs he used throughout his day, out loud or in his own thoughts. its a struggle.

"I should've ripped through you like paper, who are you?.", chimed in the now mysterious last man standing of the four, Approaching The Man.

The Man with quick wit responded, "You can think of me akin to a Wasteman.".

"Doesn't matter, someone sent you here to die."

"Not the first time I've heard that pal, Let's see how this plays out then."

The night might run a little longer than expected.