Zakaira had always hated the Atkins bar. Why in the world the leader of Ironwaters entire underground empire had decided the best place to hang out was a dingy basement bar  was beyond him. The room was small, too. Small, and damp. The cobbled floors and stone walls sweated profusely. It was the basement of some unbeknownst shack on the outskirts of town. The room had six round wooden tables spread out, each with three or four chairs scattered around, most empty. All of them held a sad, lit candle in the middle, giving off a pathetic glow. The candles were the only source of light in the basement, other than the two lanterns placed on either side of the bar, which stretched most the room's width.

Zakaira sat there, at this small bar, on an uncomfortable stool, in a dark, damp, musty room, surrounded by drunk men, sipping his brandy. The brandy was good, he had to admit. It had a bite to it, but was smooth. A complicated, smokey flavor, with hints of hazelnut that danced across his tongue whenever he took a sip. 

With him at the bar, was a stout man, dressed in layers of white and yellow, who was introduced earlier as Shine. Shine’s outfit was bright, but brighter than that; was the massive revolver on his hip, which was an elaborate entanglement of silver, gold, and white gold, and a matching sawed off shotgun in front of him on the bar, barrel pointed right at Zakaira. Shine had a round face, clean shaven and bald, with always a friendly smile plastered across his face. He had dark eyes, and his eyes did not carry the same level of cheer as the rest of him. They were cold, almost soulless eyes that watched Zakaira lazily as he rambled on and on with stories of stunts he probably made up on the spot.

To Shine's back, a towering man sat by the door. He sat six feet tall whilst still on his stool, a curved, black blade laid across his lap. He had nodded off, and his shoulders rose and fell slowly with his breaths. Behind the door, Haider was talking to Jed Atkins, The Godfather of The Deadeyes.

In the mirror hanging above the bar, Zakaira could see three other men sitting around a table, about three feet behind him, smoking and drinking and gambling. One had a shotgun resting against his chair, the other two had revolvers sitting on the table.

“...and you know, I shot him dead, I did. He neva’ talked trash to nobody ever again.” Shiny said, his voice nasally and loud. He paused a moment from his monologue to sip his drink. 

Suddenly,  Jed’s and Haider's voices began to rise from behind the door. Zakaira  listened, curious. None of the other men seemed to notice. 

A muffled bang cracked through the room. The room was a flurry of motion in seconds. Shine had his shotgun aimed at Zakaira’s head in an instant. The men behind him were slower to respond, but after a couple of seconds of shock, they too had their weapons aimed at Zakaira. Zakaira had stood from the bar and turned around, but now had his hands up in the air.

The giant man asleep at the door had been startled awake, and was looking around wildly, blade in hand. As he went to stand, the door behind him opened and an arm came out, holding a black revolver, with glowing red engravings wrapped around the barrel. The gun went off with a loud crack, and suddenly, the top half of the giant's head was splattered across the wall behind him. Haider stepped into full view now, aimed his gun at Shine, who was spinning around to aim at him, and fired, hitting him in the neck. Blood squirted, and Shine fell into the bar.

I quickly drew my revolver in the moment of confusion, and focused on the men in front of me. Two of them had swapped their aim to Haider, and the one with the shotgun hadn’t committed to a shot yet. I shot him first.

The bullet hit him in the forehead, the impact sending him flying backwards into his chair, the second and third shot from my revolver followed within a second of the first, and the other two men fell backwards and joined their friend.

Smoke curled up into the air from barrels of weapons, adding to the already hazy atmosphere . The sound of gurgling as men drowned in their own blood, and drops of blood hitting concrete echoed through the now silent room. Haider turned around and went back through the doorway. I holstered my gun and followed him into the small office, stepping over the body of Shiney

The room was lit by an inconspicuous lamp on a great big wooden desk, taking up most of the width of the room. Behind the desk, was what remained of Jed Atkins. There was a bloody hole where his left eye used to be, and a bullet had hit where his jaw connected to his cheek, so the bottom right side of his face sagged unnaturally. His hand was on his revolver, which laid on his desk, though his finger was not on the trigger.

“What in the fuck happened in here.” I said to Haider in disbelief. He had made his way to the other side of the room and had a safe open, and was throwing stacks of cash into two open bags. “I thought you were gonna talk to him!”

Haider shrugged his broad shoulders, “I tried talkin.’ He didn’t wanna listen. The second I brought up us leavin,’ he started yellin’ an’ screamin,’ ‘You ungrateful little shits,’ he said, talkin’ bout takin’ us in, how we owe him,”  Haider closed the safe door, throwing the last bundle of bills into the bag and zipping it up. “Seems to forgot all the goddamn beatings he gave to us,”

“Still, there was no need to go and kill him!” I yelled, taking a few paces forward, cutting him off. “ You never seem to think! Need to use your damn head! Now, the whole damn towns gonna want us dead.”

“He didn’t give me a choice, you see that gun in his hand. He was gonna shoot me just for asking to leave. Here take this,” Haider said, putting one of the bags of money into Zakaira’s hands, “I got a plan to get us out of Ironwater. Come on now, we don’t have much time, someone had to have heard those shots,” Haider made his way towards this exit throwing a bag over his shoulder.

Zakaira sighed, and followed Haider through the door and up a flight of stairs.