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Description
              BANG! A gunshot pierced the serene silence of the night. I clenched my fist around the handle of my pistol.
              BANG! They're getting closer. Any second now they're going to see the hat I dropped. Damn it! Why didn't I pick that up? It's a nice hat.
              CRASH! There goes the door. The sound of footsteps coming closer made a rhythmic, almost musical sound. My heart pounded. The noise stopped. All was silent, save a lone cicada chirping in the distance. Odd, they usually aren't active this late into the year. Maybe-
              BOOM! Really, that was kind of weak. They're the Esposito family for Christ's sake. I expected at least a 14K, not some measly smoke bomb. Oh well, it sounded like it came from downstairs, so I should have a few seconds. I began to mentally prepare myself. 10…9…8…
              "Maybe he's upstairs!" 2…1…
              BAM! The closet door gave in a surprisingly satisfyingly way. I dashed to the staircase, and pointed my gun at the mobsters below. Damn…witty catchphrase. Eat lead? No, that's cliché. Go to hell? Doesn't really fit the scenario as well as I'd like. Maybe - Oh shit, they saw me. I guess I should just fire. I flinched, preparing for the recoil I've become more accustomed to than I'd like.
              CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! What the hell? Damn. That's right. I unloaded the gun when I entered the marketplace. That's what I get for thinking things would go well.
              BANG!
              "What the hell? This is my favorite coat! Bastards!" I rolled across the room and made for the window. Peeking out, I saw that they only left one guard outside. Piece of cake.
              "GHAH!!!" I burst through the window, making as much effort as possible to have it appear that the gun I was waving was not about as effective as the glass shards that were falling with me. Based on the expression that the sorry militant had, I daresay it worked. Before his jaw retracted, I swung wildly in his general direction. A sickening crunch indicated that I hit. Not even bothering to see how he fared, I raced to the doorway. Shouts were coming from the building as the mobsters began to collect themselves. Leaving no time for them to catch on, I leaned forward, snagged my hat, and kept going. With no time to look back, I slipped into an alleyway, and continued my escape. The narrow passageways of New Venice provided familiar ground as I negotiated the long rows of diners and apartments filled with unsuspecting citizens. With a good distance between me and the meetinghouse, I dared a peek over my shoulder. My efforts were rewarded with a bullet grazing my shoulder. Damn, I'll need to get that checked later. Fortunately, however, salvation was before me. An open door sat invitingly in the road, welcoming me into its warm innards. Leaving no time to hesitate, I slipped in.
              I only had a few seconds to survey the new setting, but they yielded a sizable bounty of scenery. I had entered a fine restaurant, one that served only the highest strata in society. Odds are I'm the dingiest thing to set foot inside for years. At least, that's what I gathered from the expressions of the patrons. The room was filled with snooty upperclassmen and politicians, people whose pampered lives have cushioned them far beyond reason. It's doubtful that these people had seen even a paper cut in the last year, let alone the various cuts and wounds that covered my body. The host merely stood there, mouth agape. He looked rather foolish, and I would most likely have burst out laughing right then and there had the mobsters not charged in through the door behind me.
              Panicking, I dove behind the nearest table, causing the screams of a group of rather haughty businesswomen. Propping the table in front of me, I fumbled through my pockets for ammo. A bullet pierced through my makeshift barricade while I was doing so, which caused me much stress. I had apparently wandered into the only bistro in town that served the rich without providing sturdy tables. How unfortunate. Finally my fingers met the chilling touch of cold metal. I grabbed it and jammed the clip into my gun. I jumped up and whipped it around, hoping the sudden move would give me enough time to fire off a couple shots. I began to take aim, when I realized that there were eight of them. That's not good. I'm not prepared to handle more than five. Stepping backwards, I began to unload. A couple fell before they reacted, but once they realized what was going on, I was forced to run. I dodged through screaming patrons and flying tableware as I made for the backdoor. Bullets were flying everywhere, and I did my best to return fire. Pained screams occasionally added to the commotion, and I feared I may have hit an innocent or two in my haste. No time to check, though, I was almost there. The swinging doors beckoned the freedom I longed. I reached out to push them open, and-
              THUD! I ran right into something. Or someone, rather. The sudden impact caused me to fall to the ground. Stunned, I began to pick myself up, when I saw the hefty gentleman who had stopped me. Judging by his figure, he had clearly never heard of vegetables. This may have proved to his advantage however, seeing as his uniform indicated that he was a bouncer to the restaurant. Why wasn't he at the door? I surveyed his figure, looking for a weapon. I noticed a nightstick, which worried me, but nothing in the way of firearms. That's some benefit, at least. I began to turn to check on my pursuers, when a gleam of light on his chest caught my eye. He had an odd emblem adorned on his chest. I was puzzled for a moment, when at last I realized, it was upside down. Repositioning it in my head, I felt a sickening lurch in my stomach. It was the emblem of the Esposito family. Damn my luck! I just happen to wander into an Esposito-run shop while I tried to escape. While I dwelt on my misfortune, however, my enemies were doing other things. Tubby here grabbed me by the collar of my coat and lifted my up.
"Oi! I happen to like this coat very much!" Tubby was not amused, unfortunately. He flung me across the room, causing me to slide across the bar along the side. Glasses and bottles fell left and right, and I soon toppled off the edge. Ducking behind it, I assessed the situation. Two men were at the entrance, and Tubby was at the backdoor. Three mobsters were surveying the damage, and two were approaching. Time for action. I reached into my coat, and pulled out a round metal ball. 7K. It'll have to do. I lobbed it over the counter, and quickly covered my ears. A loud bang sounded as it hit the ground, and several people cried out in terror. This provided the distraction I needed. I ran towards the kitchen, gun ablaze. Tubby, still disoriented from the bomb, absorbed the first bullet, which caught his attention. The second hit his enormous gut, and the third hit him in the arm. The fourth went over his shoulder, and then I heard a worrying sound. CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! Out of bullets. What a perfect time. Still running towards Tubby, I leaped into the air, hoping that he would be too distracted to resist. I was right for once, and I landed a solid kick into his stomach. Breathless, he stumbled back, gasping for air. I swerved around him and headed for the kitchen. The chefs were abuzz, hearing gunshots, and a couple was just heading towards the door to investigate. The florescent light reflected off the oversized knives they wielded, still soaked with the blood of the animals they worked with. Letting out a war cry, I waved my gun around, making sure to point it near each of them. If it worked once, maybe it'll work again.
              The chefs were distracted by the gun, so I ran past them, grabbed a box off the counter, and headed for the door. Both hands were filled, so I leapt forward and executed a flying kick on the door. The door, being unlocked, provided no difficulty. I ran outside, and searched my surroundings for my next course of action. Seeing a street sign under a dimly lit lamp, I realized I was several miles from the office. I needed a new plan. Spotting a nearby dumpster, I dashed forward, praying that no one had left the restaurant yet. I leaped in, and waited.
              Several minutes passed, and the screams coming from across the street died down. Voices continued, but those eventually stopped after an hour or so. I reclined on the pile of junk, preparing myself for the night. I took a flashlight from my pocket, and examined my loot. Chicken. Rice. Something green. It's a passable meal. Only now realizing that I hadn't eaten since yesterday, I demolished the food with a gusto I hadn't even exhibited mere hours before when fending for my life. Lying back, I reflected on the previous day. What was I doing again? Oh, right. I was investigating the Johnson murder. Okay then, I guess I'll put the Esposito family down for a "maybe".

Description
              BANG! A gunshot pierced the serene silence of the night. I clenched my fist around the handle of my pistol.
              BANG! They're getting closer. Any second now they're going to see the hat I dropped. Damn it! Why didn't I pick that up? It's a nice hat.
              CRASH! There goes the door. The sound of footsteps coming closer made a rhythmic, almost musical sound. My heart pounded. The noise stopped. All was silent, save a lone cicada chirping in the distance. Odd, they usually aren't active this late into the year. Maybe-
              BOOM! Really, that was kind of weak. They're the Esposito family for Christ's sake. I expected at least a 14K, not some measly smoke bomb. Oh well, it sounded like it came from downstairs, so I should have a few seconds. I began to mentally prepare myself. 10…9…8…
              "Maybe he's upstairs!" 2…1…
              BAM! The closet door gave in a surprisingly satisfyingly way. I dashed to the staircase, and pointed my gun at the mobsters below. Damn…witty catchphrase. Eat lead? No, that's cliché. Go to hell? Doesn't really fit the scenario as well as I'd like. Maybe - Oh shit, they saw me. I guess I should just fire. I flinched, preparing for the recoil I've become more accustomed to than I'd like.
              CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! What the hell? Damn. That's right. I unloaded the gun when I entered the marketplace. That's what I get for thinking things would go well.
              BANG!
              "What the hell? This is my favorite coat! Bastards!" I rolled across the room and made for the window. Peeking out, I saw that they only left one guard outside. Piece of cake.
              "GHAH!!!" I burst through the window, making as much effort as possible to have it appear that the gun I was waving was not about as effective as the glass shards that were falling with me. Based on the expression that the sorry militant had, I daresay it worked. Before his jaw retracted, I swung wildly in his general direction. A sickening crunch indicated that I hit. Not even bothering to see how he fared, I raced to the doorway. Shouts were coming from the building as the mobsters began to collect themselves. Leaving no time for them to catch on, I leaned forward, snagged my hat, and kept going. With no time to look back, I slipped into an alleyway, and continued my escape. The narrow passageways of New Venice provided familiar ground as I negotiated the long rows of diners and apartments filled with unsuspecting citizens. With a good distance between me and the meetinghouse, I dared a peek over my shoulder. My efforts were rewarded with a bullet grazing my shoulder. Damn, I'll need to get that checked later. Fortunately, however, salvation was before me. An open door sat invitingly in the road, welcoming me into its warm innards. Leaving no time to hesitate, I slipped in.
              I only had a few seconds to survey the new setting, but they yielded a sizable bounty of scenery. I had entered a fine restaurant, one that served only the highest strata in society. Odds are I'm the dingiest thing to set foot inside for years. At least, that's what I gathered from the expressions of the patrons. The room was filled with snooty upperclassmen and politicians, people whose pampered lives have cushioned them far beyond reason. It's doubtful that these people had seen even a paper cut in the last year, let alone the various cuts and wounds that covered my body. The host merely stood there, mouth agape. He looked rather foolish, and I would most likely have burst out laughing right then and there had the mobsters not charged in through the door behind me.
              Panicking, I dove behind the nearest table, causing the screams of a group of rather haughty businesswomen. Propping the table in front of me, I fumbled through my pockets for ammo. A bullet pierced through my makeshift barricade while I was doing so, which caused me much stress. I had apparently wandered into the only bistro in town that served the rich without providing sturdy tables. How unfortunate. Finally my fingers met the chilling touch of cold metal. I grabbed it and jammed the clip into my gun. I jumped up and whipped it around, hoping the sudden move would give me enough time to fire off a couple shots. I began to take aim, when I realized that there were eight of them. That's not good. I'm not prepared to handle more than five. Stepping backwards, I began to unload. A couple fell before they reacted, but once they realized what was going on, I was forced to run. I dodged through screaming patrons and flying tableware as I made for the backdoor. Bullets were flying everywhere, and I did my best to return fire. Pained screams occasionally added to the commotion, and I feared I may have hit an innocent or two in my haste. No time to check, though, I was almost there. The swinging doors beckoned the freedom I longed. I reached out to push them open, and-
              THUD! I ran right into something. Or someone, rather. The sudden impact caused me to fall to the ground. Stunned, I began to pick myself up, when I saw the hefty gentleman who had stopped me. Judging by his figure, he had clearly never heard of vegetables. This may have proved to his advantage however, seeing as his uniform indicated that he was a bouncer to the restaurant. Why wasn't he at the door? I surveyed his figure, looking for a weapon. I noticed a nightstick, which worried me, but nothing in the way of firearms. That's some benefit, at least. I began to turn to check on my pursuers, when a gleam of light on his chest caught my eye. He had an odd emblem adorned on his chest. I was puzzled for a moment, when at last I realized, it was upside down. Repositioning it in my head, I felt a sickening lurch in my stomach. It was the emblem of the Esposito family. Damn my luck! I just happen to wander into an Esposito-run shop while I tried to escape. While I dwelt on my misfortune, however, my enemies were doing other things. Tubby here grabbed me by the collar of my coat and lifted my up.
"Oi! I happen to like this coat very much!" Tubby was not amused, unfortunately. He flung me across the room, causing me to slide across the bar along the side. Glasses and bottles fell left and right, and I soon toppled off the edge. Ducking behind it, I assessed the situation. Two men were at the entrance, and Tubby was at the backdoor. Three mobsters were surveying the damage, and two were approaching. Time for action. I reached into my coat, and pulled out a round metal ball. 7K. It'll have to do. I lobbed it over the counter, and quickly covered my ears. A loud bang sounded as it hit the ground, and several people cried out in terror. This provided the distraction I needed. I ran towards the kitchen, gun ablaze. Tubby, still disoriented from the bomb, absorbed the first bullet, which caught his attention. The second hit his enormous gut, and the third hit him in the arm. The fourth went over his shoulder, and then I heard a worrying sound. CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! Out of bullets. What a perfect time. Still running towards Tubby, I leaped into the air, hoping that he would be too distracted to resist. I was right for once, and I landed a solid kick into his stomach. Breathless, he stumbled back, gasping for air. I swerved around him and headed for the kitchen. The chefs were abuzz, hearing gunshots, and a couple was just heading towards the door to investigate. The florescent light reflected off the oversized knives they wielded, still soaked with the blood of the animals they worked with. Letting out a war cry, I waved my gun around, making sure to point it near each of them. If it worked once, maybe it'll work again.
              The chefs were distracted by the gun, so I ran past them, grabbed a box off the counter, and headed for the door. Both hands were filled, so I leapt forward and executed a flying kick on the door. The door, being unlocked, provided no difficulty. I ran outside, and searched my surroundings for my next course of action. Seeing a street sign under a dimly lit lamp, I realized I was several miles from the office. I needed a new plan. Spotting a nearby dumpster, I dashed forward, praying that no one had left the restaurant yet. I leaped in, and waited.
              Several minutes passed, and the screams coming from across the street died down. Voices continued, but those eventually stopped after an hour or so. I reclined on the pile of junk, preparing myself for the night. I took a flashlight from my pocket, and examined my loot. Chicken. Rice. Something green. It's a passable meal. Only now realizing that I hadn't eaten since yesterday, I demolished the food with a gusto I hadn't even exhibited mere hours before when fending for my life. Lying back, I reflected on the previous day. What was I doing again? Oh, right. I was investigating the Johnson murder. Okay then, I guess I'll put the Esposito family down for a "maybe".