I rolled over to my side and groaned in pain. Feeling sick, I let out a small cough and spit up some of my blood. I shivered at the sight of it and got up despite the pain in my abdomen. Six hitmen snuck up on me and gave me the beating of my life. That doesn't happen very often. First for me anyways.

As I walked over to the sink, I held my stomach with one hand and my head with the other. I tried to remember what happened. It was like a movie, getting beat up in the public washroom by six men. I only went in to wash my hands because the club was a pretty dirty place but noticed that the washrooms were all emptied out by the hitmen before I had a chance to soap up my hands.

"Stupid job…" I thought to myself. I came here to find a woman incharge of a whole underground drug trade world but she didn't even show up, but her hitmen sure did. I rubbed my temples and looked in the mirror. I had a nice bruise on my cheek, cut on my lip and felt sore all over. I felt something in my throat and thought to clear it with a cough. Bad idea. As I coughed, I spat out more blood. As I went to inhale, I inhaled more blood and it caused me to choke. Ever had that happen? Trying to clear your throat but you end up making it worse? Yeah, I had that moment.

As I struggled to breath and ignore the pain in my stomach, the bathroom door opened. John, my attending-type person came in. He froze as soon as he saw me. "Holy shit, Rowdy! What the hell happened?!"

"I got beat up." I managed to mumble.

"Obviously. By who? Hitmen?"

"Yeah. Six of them." I started to cough up some more blood. It was so painful, I had to kneel onto the ground and hold my stomach.

"Oh jeez." John walked over and knelt down next to me. He put a hand on my stomach, then moved it to my sides. "You've broken some ribs are experiancing internal bleeding. Rowdy, we gotta get you to HQ else you might die."

I nodded and got up.

I LOVE MY JOB! Well, not really, but …

I LOVE YOU GUYS SOOO MUCH!! HAVE A GREAT DAY!!!!