the Sixteenth Surgeon

Chapter 4 "The Smoker's Lounge"

"A little Cocky yourself, old man. Tell me I wasted my chance and then you didn't shoot me in the head either. Hippocritical as hell." He said pulling a knife and swinging a wide miss. Roman side stepped without even dropping his cigar. kicking him in the ass as an insult. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"You wasted a chance you can't afford to lose, I am just playing with my food, like an old bored cat and a pigeon with a broken wing." Roman said stepping back and dodging his next swipe as if just enjoying a smoke and swatting a fly away. He met him with a right hook and a knee to the ribs, shoving him away to catch his breath.

"Wow...you needed that gun more then I assumed." Roman toyed, kicking his hand and sending the knife into the wall.

"Pretty good for a man pushing 60." Antonio grunted, smashing a lamp over Roman's head and suddenly being tangled in the chord as Roman looped it around his neck and pinned him to the wall.

"How did you ever end up with any confirmed kills?" asked Roman.

"By fighting dirty." He grunted, drawing a knife from his boot and sticking it in his side, jarring him slightly. He backed away, dodging a swing and letting him untangle himself as he pulled out the knife.

"Poor choice of cutlery, kid. Smooth blades are easy to pull out, but it stabs deep. Serrated blades get caught on silk shirts and cost you penetration. You should have filed hooks facing away on the spine to make it hard to get out." he said tossing the knife back to him casually. He caught it and looked perplexed.

"You are insane." He said circling.

"No, just a forward-thinker." Roman said blowing a smoke ring at him.

"Even if I don't kill you, old man...someone will for 16 million legit. You think you can take down the entire city and every killer in it by yourself?" he asked rushing and being kicked back into the glass bar, rolling to the ground and bleeding on the carpet.

"Antonio. I never even heard of you, unless you have a code name..." Roman said waiting for a response. "Guess not, just plain old Antonio. How many kills do you have?" Roman asked.

"Sixteen." He bluffed.

"Should have said 5, I might have believed that." he said pouring himself a glass of bourbon as Antonio gathered himself and readied the knife. He sighed and felt slightly honest for a change, realizing he was already sized up.

"Fine...7. You don't usually get a nickname until you've killed at least." He wheezed. "Figured you count as at least 3."

"And you think that you can become a real name by killing the great Roman Blue? You are the one with the death-wish, kid. Go home, quit your job. Find work at a pawn store or something, find a girlfriend, then forget the name Roman while you still have a chance of finding a career you are actually good at, maybe be a chef...because you do have some skill with a blade. You're not suited to be a Surgeon." he said sitting down and almost relaxing. Antonio looked shocked, here was the legendary assassin Roman Blue, fresh puncture in his side, enjoying a drink and flipping on the TV as if nobody else was around. Antonio felt ignored. He staggered to the old man and before he could prep for attack there was a revolver in his face, cocked and held by the hand of a man not even looking at him, more interested in the news.

"I gave you a chance, kid. Why are you still standing there? Do you have something to say?" Roman asked slowly turning to him with half attention.

"I don't get it. Why turn the entire world on yourself like this? You can't believe you can go even 3 days without someone killing you."

"Truthfully, I will give that answer to the person who can best me at this profession, and nobody less. You don't interest me enough to keep fighting, and you don't deserve an answer. Do you know what you are worth to me?" Roman asked, finishing his drink.