Wade finds himself in a sweet place.
I walked into the Cardoza drenched from the rain. My newly minted Francesca-Mieurno suit, ruined. I gestured at Mort, the bartender, to prepare me a drink. Cigarette smoke from the man next to me aggravated my nose, but his lady-friend interested me. I reserved my assault for the moment.
"Mort, what's with all this fucking rain?" I said, sitting down on a detritus stool. "And these chairs, man, put some of that hard earned cash into them, they are dreadful."
"They are quite dreadful," replied Mort, cleaning out a cup. His oversized hands made it nearly impossible to effectively do.
Mort was the type of guy you didn't want around your children, because he had a laundry list of charges and convictions and looked like a cross between a troll and rotted corpse. His nose was lanky and chewn up from many a fights. One eye was white, the other faintly green. A real fucked up looking guy, but he was a master of his craft; pouring drinks.
"Who's the asshole sitting over by the brunette over there?"
"You want to know about the fucking rain, or the asshole over there? That's Banky. He's a heretic, supposedly a descendant of a Stygian traiter that helped the OMC secure, Deadrose."
He had to die. Heretics were banned from living. After drinking a swig of alcohol, I pulled out my Ender .45 and aimed it at the heretics head and fired. But the bullet didn’t release. I pulled again and again, nothing. Before I got to inspect my clip, Banky had already opened fire with his Spitfire AR. My chest armor splintered and singed through my holo-camo. Now my suit was definitely ruined.
I flipped over the bar and took cover.
"Banky, you son of a bitch, you fucked up my suit!"
"You're a dead man, Wade. I knew that was you when you walked in. Your camo-shell doesn't hide your stench."
Exposed, I switch back to my original form, stood and then fired back. The brunette had fled. Now I was upset and threw up a shield and pushed towards Banky. He returned fire, but the bullets reflected off into random directions, hitting several cowardice patrons.
"You can't win, Banky. I'm not the world’s deadliest assassin for nothing,” I said, inching my way closer to his position.
With that said I kicked Banky to the ground and opened fire on his face, tearing it to mulch. His skull was hard, maybe partially adamantite. He was fucked up, but not dead.
“You can't kill me, Wade. I'm the sandman.”
Frustrated I lifted him off the ground and dragged him out into the pouring rain. The street was practically evacuated save for a few parked cars. Rain continued to pound the surface around us. He tried to get back to his feet but I delivered a well placed kick to his ribcage, shattering it in the process. Punctured by broken bones, his lungs filled with blood. He slowly died.
“Sandman? Well I'am the Rainman, bitch.” I said stepping over his corpse and re-entering the bar.