“How many times do I have to get shot before you’re happy?” Daniel asked, leaning against a stone wall. He held a second shot wound, one that barely missed his heart.

“It’s not my fault that you were the one to get shot,” his partner said, holding a gun in his right hand. “They weren’t supposed to know that we were meeting up there.”

“Frederick, look, you told me that you were buying me lunch, not meeting up with this gang of yours that I never even knew existed!” Daniel whispered sternly with exaggerated hand movement, which he quickly regretted as pain shot through his shoulder.

“I thought you’d like the guys,” Frederick argued.

The two turned their heads to look down the dark alley as several guys dressed in red leathers ran towards them. “Just get me out of here,” Daniel growled.

Frederick reacted instantly, pulling Daniel behind some boxes. He then aimed his gun toward the approaching men, quickly firing some shots.

“Swell idea, cardboard boxes are totally going to save us from bullets,” Daniel grumbled, grimacing in pain. Black blotches began to dot his vision, and he toppled over, unable to keep consciousness.

Daniel awoke to a lot of whispering, feeling dizzy and disorientated. He could make out the words just as his vision focused. “That other bloke, though… he didn’t make it through the night,” he heard a man’s voice coming from the opposite end of the room. Daniel lifted his head ever so slightly, seeing a man dressed in red leathers.

“Frederick…?” Daniel whispered.

“Is dead,” the man in red leathers said, obviously resisting a smile.