Dead Men Bleed

The Market

Shit, there's a lot of people. It's one big mall, but outside. I can't get a lead on where in the Market. The bitter scent of filth stings at my nostrils like a dump yard. Smog makes my eyes water even with the mask on. To make matters worse, useless chatter fill the Market like water fills a glass.
Everyone is moving so fast. Its like playing "Where the Fuck is Waldo?" in a crowded shit blizzard.
My SCAR is laid down next me, begging me (metaphorically) to use her. Looking at the rifle gave me an idea.
The scope was much more useful than my dull eyes. I swiped away a layer of dust that swirled in the air with a single swipe.
I was disgusted by the crowd. Prostitutes, drug dealers, anything you can think of was sold just as casually as an apple or a gallon of milk. Lack in cops, abundant in crime.
I had no time to bother, however. Avirace was lurking about. I just needed to find him.

The phone let out a soothing tone and vibrated in his pocket. He gave a small smirk, somewhat pleasured by the rapid vibration.
"Doug here." He greeted to the caller as he brought the phone to his ear.
"Where are you?" A deep voice questioned. It was Billy.
"I'm almost at the Market. Why?"
There was sharp turn that caught Doug off guard, preventing him of hearing the first part of the reply.
"-more guys to you."
He shook his head in confusion as he looked out the window. The sidewalk was packed with people pushing and shoving each other for room to walk.
"Can you repeat that? I didn't catch what you said."
An irritated sigh made Doug cringe a bit. It was all to familiar. Whatever happened, something must've shook him to be irritated so quickly.
"I'm sendin' more guys to you. Did ya catch that? 'Cause I'll jump through this line beat you 'till you do."
Doug raised his eyebrows. His tone...he sounded nervous. Something has him paranoid.
"Why do you need extra guys? There's three guys with me now. It's a simple exchange." Doug disputed while trying to be assuring. His attempt at assurance didn't work on Billy.
"There's more shit goin' on that you don't quite understand. You're just gonna have to let the guys tag along. And don't question it you little fuck. Just be in and out. No dicking around. I want you back at your fucking as soon as you're done."

Nothing. God dammit. They're nowhere. I straddle the SCAR in my arms as I walk to the adjacent ledge on the right. People rushed through the alley like blood rushes through veins.
The faint illumination of nearby stores and shops shone on the feet of passing by people.
The scope pressed against around my eye. Sweat began to slide from the rim of the scope down to my pink cheek. The humidty was killing me. So much gas and hot breathes packed into a small area felt like a sauna. I could feel the sweat dampen my back.
Nothing suspicious so far. Shit.

"What the fuck is this?!"
Avirace crossed his arms as he stared at four SUVs park on the sidewalk. People avoided the path of the uncaring drivers.
Four SUVs. Five guys. That's twenty guys plus Avirace's.
They all wore black suits. One was dressed differently. He wore a gas mask with a thick, heavy, fire retardant coat striped with yellow against the black color. The coat had no sleeves, revealing his thick, dark arms. Bloodied bandages were wrapped around his left forearm and a leather strap on his wrist. His boots stomped like the feet of a bull. His physique was massive, like a silverback gorilla. Scars and lumpy burn marks formed across his skin. His heavy breath sent chills down his spine, the freakish look disturbing the men around him as well.
"What the fuck are you?" Avirace asked loudly, approaching hin face to face.
"Bodyguard. Billy sent me with the other 19. The name is Hacksaw."
Avirace scoffed as Hacksaw stomped away.
"Let's get something straight, woman. You're not gonna boss me around. I'm your babysitter today. Just get your shit done, get outta here, and get me paid."
Avirace rolled his eyes like a rebellious teenager. "Secure a perimeter! Keep your eyes peeled."

Two more rooftops later, I spot a pattern. I'm just above a deli, the huge swell of rotting meats and the sweet yet foul smell of blood stung my nose. A couple yards away, where the alley meets a flow of people on the sidewalk, were men dressed in all black like some fuckin' secret agents. They wore black trench coats, black pants, button shirts, and glasses. They were dispersed in the crowd, as if they were securing something. They were armed to the teeth. AK 47s, AUGs, and P90s. He has to be close by.
I quickly crossed a wobbly connection between my roof to the building in front. My eyes were glued to the (unoriginal) men in black, counting more as I went along the bridge. One, two, four, nine. How many guys are there? Either way, I need to thin the herd.

Avirace and Hacksaw whipped the plastic drapes behind them, slapping the guards behind them.
The meeting place was in a deli. Avirace gagged at the scent of discarded and bloodied meats in the back. The shrill of a saw slicing through the white bones and red meat of ribs deafened his hearing. Hacksaw was calm, as if seeing and smelling scenes such as this are as common as breathing.
The manager stood in front of the freezer. Rolls of fat squished under his neck. His meaty, tattooed arms were crossed. His eyes narrowed in focus.
"Just in time. He's here." The manager twisted the knob and flung the door open.
A group of men stood in the middle of an aisle of pig carcasses covered with a thin layer of frost. The stench didn't alleviate one bit. Avirace felt a fierce gag burn at his lungs.
"Man up, motherfucker." Hacksaw hissed. "Make this shit quick." He stood at the doorway, shooing away the manager.
"You're Doug Avirace?" An Asian man questioned. Avirace confirmed with a nod.
A man in a silver suit popped out from the crowd, carrying a black briefcase.
"35 Gs. 7 kilos. I assume you have your payment."

The target was in perfect position. I could see his five o'clock shadow as he stood like a sentry by a kiosk selling cheap products like fake, silver necklaces and expired candies.
Bam! The bullet zoomed through the air and tore apart his jaw. Pieces of bloodied bone exploded from the bullet wound that sent him collapsing forward.
Another sentry took action, rushing toward his fallen comrade. I could judge his path. The civilians, however, are a whole different problem. First, I don't kill civilians for no reason. Second, he could be smart enough to track the path of the bullet. He was 55 yards away from his dead comrade. Now or never.
The bullet launched out of the gun, whizzing through the air. My heart throbbed in anxiety. Please, on God's green one, don't anyone step in the way. SPLAT!! Pink slobs of brain slapped the wet pavement. Fragments of veins pulsed on the grooves on the floor. I should be proud. But I'm not. It was the wrong target. Time stood still. All I heard was the thunderous thump of my heartbeat. My gut twisted like a rope. A bearded civilian got in my way.
His body fell face first, slamming onto the sidewalk. Groups of people screamed and fled like roaches flee from light.
Amidst the chaos and the disbelief, I saw the sentry lift a walkie talkie to his mouth.

Hacksaw's silver eyes rose to the ceiling. Two loud, distinctive sounds resonated from outside the deli. He rushed to the exchange in the freezer. Avirace handed off his payment to the dealer.
"Quit jerking each other off and get your dough. I heard gun shots." They stiffened at first, shocked at the tone of Hacksaw. Then, a brief squeaking sound erupted.
"We got a vigilante above the deli! I repeat, a vigilante is above the deli!"
Hacksaw snatched Avirace by the collar of his shirt and shoved him, nearly tripping him and the product.
"Get moving!"