[Cafe Aurores, 66 Lumina Lane | 1050 Central Time, Day 1]
"They've come, haven't they?" asked Morgan as she bandaged Mendez' bleeding arm.
Mendez chuckled as he sat in front of the barista counter, hissing from pain every time the bandage nicked a delicate spot in his wound. "Afraid so."
Morgan was quiet for a moment before starting again. "The cafe--"
"--don't worry about the cafe, Morgan," assured Mendez. "Call the cops. Unless these jackasses had the audacity of disguising themselves as cops, that should definitely do it for now. Also, didn't you have that thing that I--"
"--yep."
"...and you know how to use it, right?"
"Yep."
"...and are you sure you'll be able to use it? I mean knowing how to use it and actually using it are two different things, so..."
"I still remember that time in the range, Rock. I can handle myself."
"Well, that's a relief," said Mendez as he got up. Morgan had finished bandaged his arm. He set for the upstairs leading to his room. "As for me..."
"Where are you going?"
Mendez' right foot was already on the first step when he answered. "Today seems like a rainy day. So I gotta get me my rainjacket."
"You mean a raincoat? Also, you sure your arm'll be alright?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a 'coat' myself. Also, can you please keep an eye on her, Morgan?" asked Mendez as he gestured to the assassin he knocked out earlier. "Just keep her away from the gun. You know what happened the last time she got it. Bullet went clean through though, didn't sever any artery or anything, so I should be fine."
Nodding slightly, Morgan went for the M1911 pistol lying on the ground while Mendez continued going up the stairwell.
Truth be told, Mendez had been waiting for this day to come. Despite evidences pointing to the contrary, he'd actually been waiting for someone--or rather, someones--to take a crack at his life. Especially this case of someones.
Once he met Morgan and started running the cafe with her, Mendez had thought that that part of his life was over. He had let it go, knowing that his life was better off without it.
But now, he'd just been given a good reason to go back and tie that loose end.
In Mendez's room was a walk-in closet. In the walk-in closet was a wooden box the size of four shoe boxes. It was secured with a three dial combination lock, which Mendez took no more than five seconds to open.
Inside of the box were a black leather jacket, a revolver, its holster, and approximately three boxes of bullet cartridges for the revolver.
The leather jacket was what Mendez referred to as his 'rainjacket'--it was a jet black biker leather jacket with striped pads on its shoulders. A feature noticeable right away from the jacket is its right sleeve, which lower half was ripped off completely, leaving only its upper half, running from the shoulder to the elbow. However, the ripped-off sleeve is not the only distinguishable feature the jacket has.
On the back of the jacket was a gigantic patch that covers a good majority of space--it depicts a picture of a screaming skull, its mouth wide open as it was engulfed by a gout of blue flames. The skull's features such as its eyes, its nose, and its mouth were obscured as the drawing was rough and the lines were not pronounced, almost as if the skull is in the blue fire instead of being burnt by it, but there's no denying it: it was a screaming skull. Beneath the terrifying visage was a light brown banner that wrote 'diabolus puniat'.
As for the revolver, it's a Taurus Raging Bull Model 444, built for housing the powerful .44 Magnum cartridges. Mendez's Raging Bull comes with a 10-inch ported barrel, its signature red-black grip, a stainless steel finish, and a glaringly visible writing carved on the barrel's left side that read 'La Mutilar'.
The revolver's holster is a chest revolver holster with three different straps springing out from it, the holster itself made from leather. One strap goes over the left shoulder, while the two other straps strap around the gun holder's waist. The three straps converge at the wearer's back, thus perfectly securing the revolver hovering in front of the holder's chest. Mendez's holster was custom-made to house the one revolver Mendez'd always preferred, his signature Taurus Raging Bull.
Mendez tried his rainjacket in front of a mirror. It still fits, after all these years. Good thing he hasn't gained too much weight.
Adding to his appearance is a pair of aviator sunglasses, which Mendez didn't have to fish from his hidden wooden case. It has solid dark blue lenses with a golden frame. Mendez didn't wear the sunglasses right away, instead he hung it over his now-bloodstained shirt.
After loading his gun--and his jacket pockets--with the cartridges, Mendez set for the cafe, this time wearing his rainjacket and his revolver holster with the gun in it. The holster, while still noticeably visible, was partially concealed by Mendez's rainjacket.
As soon as Mendez entered the cafe floors, he went for Morgan. "Called the cops yet?"
Morgan nodded. "Two minutes."
"And our esteemed guest?"
"Ah..." paused Morgan, not really knowing what to say. Assassins, guns---not really her forte. Not as much as espressos and americanos, anyway. "It looks like...she's on her way here...but she's not quite here...yet. You get what I'm saying?"
"I got enough," answered Mendez as he approached the assassin. "Thanks, Morgan."
Mendez pulled up the assassin's phone and called on her. "Morning, sunshine."
The assassin's eyes fluttered open, registering her surroundings. After registering Mendez, they widened for a moment before narrowing into a cold, dead stare straight into Mendez's own.
Mendez stretched his right arm out, the assassin's phone on hand.
"Make a call to your employer. Tell him job's done and you want to meet him to collect the payment."
No answer. Still the same dead stare.
Mendez pulled out his gun and pressed it against the assassin's temple.
"Look," began Mendez, his voice still as calm as before. "If you fail to make that call, your mission's failed. Which means they're going to either cut you loose or off you. Now with the cops coming, I'd say the second option's much more likely--they're going to get you before the cops got anything from you. No witnesses, you see. And these guys, I know these guys, they can get to you even if you're the Pope hiding in Fort Knox. This might as well be your last chance to do something right before you bite it."
"So let me ask you again: call him, tell him job's done, and you want to meet him."
Took her a moment, but the assassin grabbed the phone from Mendez's hands and proceeded to call her employer. The same number that Mendez collected from the shootists from the convenience store.
The phone was picked up.
"It's me," said the assassin. "He's dead. Where should we meet?"
Before there was a reply, Mendez snatched the phone from the assassin's hand and put it against his ear.
"Excellent. Meet me at the warehouse off Riley Drive."
Mendez quickly pressed the phone against the assassin's ear while mouthing a few words at the assassin, his gun still pressed against the assassin's temple.
"Right. See you there," answered the assassin per Mendez's instructions.
Mendez yet again pressed the phone against his ear, in case he can catch some more information blurted out by the guy from the other side.
In which case he did.
"Becks, we're going to Riley Drive. And you better make it quick--"
The line went dead. How convenient.
An accomplice. How interesting.
Stuffing the phone into one of his jacket pockets, Mendez set out to the cafe's back entrance. He can hear the police sirens now.
"Rock, where are you going?" asked Morgan.
"To the back entrance, you know what the cops'll think if they see me go out front."
"No, I mean, where are you heading?"
"Oh," exclaimed Mendez, realizing what Morgan meant. "I'm going to do some investigation."
"Right," nodded Morgan calmly. "Stay safe."
"Don't worry about me," remarked Mendez, his smirk still as visible as ever. "After all, if something happens to me, you'll get 100% of the cafe's revenue, right?"
Morgan chuckled. Not a nervous chuckle surprisingly, but a sincere, I-get-the-joke one. "Cute. Go get them."
Just before taking another step heading to the back door, Mendez took a glance at the assassin and threw an impish half-smile at her.
"Y'know, to your credit, you gave a good fight," remarked Mendez in the most sportive tone ever conceived, as if the beatdown never happened. "You're pretty good."
Mendez threw a quick salute-like gesture to Morgan before disappearing through the cafe's back door and out to the streets, away from the cops that had just pulled up in front of the cafe.
Crackling his knuckles, Mendez set off for Riley Drive, a satisfied smile plastered on his face.
It's been quite a while since he can get his hands on some action. That thrill. That jolt of adrenaline rushing through his system. That satisfaction of beating someone to a pulp.
It's been a while.
But thanks to the three-time attempts on his life that has happened today, that 'a while' is coming to an end.
Time to get to the bottom of this.
Time to tie up some loose ends.
And most importantly,
time to get back in the game.