The bar was dimly lit, cigarette smoked filled the room. The floor was dirty with dried up beer, peanut shells with a mix of blood from past brawls and even a few bullet casings. The mix came from the patrons that visited. Criminals from all walks of life gathered at The Dirty Goose Saloon. It was owned by former soldier of fortune. No one knew his real name, but since he was a man in his mid sixties, everyone just called him "Gramps" He stood around six foot four, with short dark hair that was turning white with age, a scar that ran down his right eye that he had gotten on one of his tours. You didn't want to get on his bad side. The old man's saloon was two stories, the first was for drink and the second story was for fucking. It was a smart business move. Get drunk and go fuck. Ladies of the night were all over the saloon, waiting to take your money for some fun time. It was grand time at the Dirty Goose Saloon, for the most part anyways. Every now and then, there would be a fight, maybe some guns going off but Gramps always dealt with it. So most of the time everything ran smoothly.

Tonight, Michael McBride and his friend Luna Hightower were drinking the night away. Their other friends would soon be joining them for a night of drinking. They had finished a job earlier in the day and it was a big payday. McBride was dressed in blues jeans, a black t-shirt and black boots to match and complete the outfit. Michael had been on this island for a year or so, after he and his wife split up, he found himself sorta lost. He had left the arms dealing business, simply he had gotten bored with it, but every now and then, he would still sells guns to friends or people he trusted. Which wasn't many. So with noting really to do, Michael joined up with his friend Shelby's crew. They did odd jobs for the many criminal organizations that were on the island. The big five were the Russians, The Italians, The Cubans, The Japanese and the Chinese. The five of them were in an uneasy alliance that could go up in flames at any moment. Michael wouldn't have mind if they all went to war. He could make money off of it but if he had to pick a side. He would go with The Russians. Michael had known the leader for some time. Her name was Zoya Sokolov. Her enemies knew her as The Red Queen. She was a ruthless woman, a former Spetsnaz who ran her syndicate like a military unit. Unlike the other gangs. Who's ranks were that of normal everyday killers, her men and women were mostly filled by her former comrades when she served in the army. Each trained as well as she was. If she really wanted to, she could wipe out the other syndicates but that would make an unbalance. She knew better but if someone wanted a war with her, they were going to get one.

The Irishman cut the end of his cigar before placing it between his teeth. He struck a match on the side of the matchbox and it came alive. Lighting his cigar, he took a few puffs before waving the match out and placing it in the ashtray that say on the bar. Luna lit up a cigarette and took a drag from it before speaking.

"So, going back to XWF huh?" She asked before taking another drag.

"Aye, I thought it was about time. Plus, I miss Gilmour."

"Ah yes, that son of of a whore. Do you know your first opponent back?"

McBride puffed on his cigar for a moment before clenching it between his teeth and grinned.

"Some cunt named Mr.Kennedy. I've never heard of him before in me life. I guess he's from WWE but who the fuck watches that fake arse shite? For fuck's sake. He repeats his name after a pause. Why? Who the fuck does that shite? This blonde fuckwit has no idea what he's getting himself into but hey. That's okay. He'll learn. The XWF isn't Sports entertainment. It's not a place for the weak. I think the only reason why he's even in a match with me is because Paul Heyman has some sick and twisted sense of humor. Shite, I still haven't pay him back for blowing up his limo all those years ago."

Luna busted up laughing.

"I forgot about that. Are you ever going to get him back for that?"

"Fuuuuuck no. Why should I? He took away me shot at the Xtreme title. So fuck him and fuck Mr.Kennedy. He can't even win his first fuckin' match. Why should I get two shites about someone who can't get the job done. I've held every title in the XWF but one, that being the Universal title but that will come in time. I'm in no rush. So who do you think is going to win? A nobody from a fake wrestling company who is ran by dipshite of an onwer or me? Who has done more than Kennedy could ever dream of doing in The XWF? Clearly me. He's no more of a threat than a blue and gold macaw who doesn't know when to shut the Hell up. So I'll do it for him because if he doesn't keep that mouth shut, he will be drinking his meals through a straw for a few months. I can't stand big mouths like him. He can't even back his shite talking up with anything. The man hasn't done a single thing in the XWF but lose. I mean if he wants to be known as a loser, fuck it. Who am I to stop him? I'll just help him along the way."

"Sure, I get that but you have another match after your first of the night."

"And? That doesn't bother me. He'll be too beaten down to be any threat. It's not like he'll be getting any fall in that match. I can't take him seriously. He blows so much smoke up his ass, I"m shocked Heyman can blow more smoke up there but of course sucks the shite out of Heyman's arsehole. So I guess it's a win win for him."

Luna laughed again before taking the last drag from her cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray. McBride's cigar wasn't close to being done, but with all the talking, it had gone out. Just before Michael could relight his stogie, the door to the saloon swung open with a violent force. Everyone looked at the entrance. A brown skinned man in a white three piece suit walked in, followed by four armed men. McBride knew who it was. It was Santiago Hernández. The big boss man of the Cuban family and by the look in his eyes. He was on a mission, someone was in deep shit. The Irishman turned back to the bar, lit his cigar and took the shot of whiskey he had forgotten about while he was talking to his blue haired friend. Luna looked at McBride. He had a smirk on his face. Luna realized Michael had did something to this man. She took saw the angry and focus in Santiago's eyes.

"Michael. What did you do?" She asked in a low voice.

"Fucked his wife and made sure he knew it was me."

"But, why?"

"I'll let you know after this."

Santiago narrowed his eyes when he saw Michael McBride sitting at thee bar.

"You mother fucker. I will have words with you McBride."

"Oi? Will you now lad? I don't think so."

With that, Michael grabbed the his now empty shot glass, turned around and threw it right at Santiago's face. The glass cup struck him right on the nose, breaking it on impact. Glass shards flew everywhere and Santiago fell to the floor with a loud THUD, his four men raised their guns just as Luna and Michael jumped behind the bar. A hailstorm of bullets followed as the two were now covered from it.

"Fucking great McBride. You're always causing trouble."

"Aye, but this is for a job."

"WHAT?!?!"

"Like I said, I'll tell you after this."

TBC