Things Ale And Guns Can't Fix

Her

Damn rain kept going the whole day, covering everything in its beautiful but annoying shroud. The city out there looks grim, like every other day. Heck, with the dirty cops by day and the mobster by night, you can't go out for some ale without some wannabe thugs trying to mug you. Some just did five minutes ago, turned tail right quick as soon as one of them lost a kneecap. The look on their face was priceless though.

Any-who, today was just that, sitting in a ten by twelve office so cheap the landlord probably forgot about, staring out the window with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of cheap ale in the other, thinking "Well, can't get any crappier than this". That's when I heard knocks on the door.

"3 in the afternoon, yep, turned out it can." Not many would come at this hour, too early for the mobsters but too late to be cops, and anyone other then them would be hard to deal with. Cocking back my lovely S&W, I downed the glass.

"Not locked." Turning toward the new figure in the room, my eyes got a feast. Raven hair in a dark purple skirt and white blouse with a slit that can melt steel, any men would kill for a bit of attention from her. Any that was stupid enough, that is.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't paint my door with some red from that pretty little head of yours, Heather." Not bothered to hide the piece, I counted the choices on my hand. Pull the trigger and hope for the best? Too messy. A shot to the gas can in the backroom then out the window? Too risky.

"Now now Fish. Is that anyway to talk to a girl you tried so hard to ask out?" Ahh, there it is! The sweet voice of the devil. The way she smiled, the way she walked, it was like she's the sun that got bored of the sky and decided to take a stroll in my gods damned office. Heck, I clearly remember how I was head over heels for her then, and how much it hurt when it blew up in my face.

"Yeah, thanks for bringing back my stupidity. It's Finnick now by the way. Now should I be worry you'd shoot me in the face if I put this down?" I asked jokingly, aiming for that sweet spot between her forehead. I have no qualms adding some lead there now, something I couldn't that night and lost everything because of it. Seeing her raising both hands up, I lowered the gun, not taking my finger off the trigger though, and poured myself another glass.

"Well? What 'service' do you acquire, miss?" Seeing the pain in her eyes, the slightest flicker in her stone like mask, my heart pang a bit. "Yep, still there." The thought slipped into my head but I kicked it out just as fast.

"I need you to save my brother." I swear, I never laughed so hard in my entire life. I had to because if I didn't then all six bullets would've been inside her head by then. "Oh you and your jokes. That was a good one too." With surprise and anger all over her face, I told her. "The only reason I would pull that scum's behind out of any grave he dug himself into is so that I could beat the living daylight out of him and shove him back inside."

"I know he'd done things to you." Heather started, visibly put off by my cavalier attitude towards her problem. "But he's my only family. Please, Fish. You're the only one left I can trust." But I wasn't having any of that. My hands could barely hold still from all the roiling emotions.

"Five years Heather." Without a notice, I dropped all the jokes. With the vitriol I didn't even know I possessed, I growled at her. "Five gods damned years just staring at those names, wondering how the Hel did it happened? How in the freaking Hel did I let it happened."  Pointing at an article hanging on the wall that reads: "Alley Shootout. Five officers found dead", I looked as her trying to look away. "They were MY family, Heather. They were all I had left. And now they're six feet under some nameless tombstones just because I couldn't pull a trigger." Letting out chuckles to quell the pain and anger, I downed the glass.

"Doesn't matters now. Nothing does." Then I laid my eyes at her. The look of horror plastered all over that pretty little face. "What happened to you, Fish? To the nice chubby man I know." Looking out the window, remembering how it felt like looking through the car's window that night, the words came out before I even noticed. 

"You did, Heather. You happened to him."

"This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come." Heather turned away, going for the door. Her voice drenched with tear. "Ah, screw it." I stood up and hold her wrist. That guy may still be in there somewhere after all. Looking at her struggling to yank her wrist free only stirred him harder. Letting out a sigh, I looked into her teary eyes, knowing that I fell for her trick again. "What in the name of Hela did he do this time?"