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The gun fell from Jonas's hand clattering to the floor as the stared at the destruction surrounding him. Twelve men lay dead in the room besides himself, killed in a brief, bloody round of violence; his mind recalled the short course of events as he struggled to stay on his feet, bracing his back against the wall.
His eyes landed on the three bodies immediately around the table in the middle of the room. His friends, he'd been playing cards with them when the death squad had broken in. Clarence was slumped over the table, blood dripping down his back from where the first bullet had ripped through his brain.

Andy lay on the floor, three bullets in his chest had taken him down as he attempted to rise and make a run for the shotgun he kept in his bedroom. There was a pistol not far from his hand and a faint smile on his face. Jonas had seen the shots the little man had fired even as he fell take one of the attackers down.
Tony lay near the bar; he'd been getting a drink and a shot gun blast had struck him in the back. Jonas didn't remember him moving after that. The realization of their deaths struck him with a pain deeper and stronger than the bullets wounds that riddled his body.
He stared at the bodies of his killers and saw, not surprisingly, that they bore the uniform of Government Death Squads, elite units that carried out black ops in war, and did the government's dirty jobs in times of peace. "Only nine" He murmured to himself, sliding down to a seated position on the floor as blood loss continued to weaken him.
Gasping for air he leaned his head against the wall and slowly pulled the pistol into his lap. He would be ready when the tenth man came through the door. The door slowly swung open and he raised the gun towards the shadowed figure in the black long coat.
"Put the gun down Jonas. Unless you wish to speed your passing from this world to the next." The man raised his own gun and walked forwards, stepping carefully over the bodies as he walked towards Jonas.
"Vincent" Jonas murmured softly. The bullets lodged in his upper torso were limiting his ability to speak and his voice came out as a rasping grate. The man stood a few feet away from him. "II should've known." The words brought on a cough that racked his entire body.
"Yes you should have Jonas. But then, you were always too trusting. Did you actually expect THEM to let you go? You knew too much for that to happen." Vincent pulled up a chair and sat down in

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