He finally has it, everything he needs or ever will need again. At barely forty he knows that this is a good achievement, not many can say that they are comfortable enough to retire by the time they reach his age. He stands in his bedroom wearing only a pair of crisp, white Armani boxershorts and flexes his superb physique in the stand alone full-length mirror. At six three and weighing in at an impressive two hundred and fifty pounds he is an imposing sight by anyone's standards. He puts on an old pair of tracksuit bottoms and heads downstairs to his gym.

The gym is fairly large and is mirrored from wall to wall; it contains everything you'd expect to find. A rowing machine, exercise bike, a multi gym, a bench and a large amount of free weights. He moves to the bench, his favourite tool, and loads up the Olympic-sized bar with 150 kilograms of weight before lying beneath the bar and preparing his grip. He lifts the bar up and over the thick metal catches that hold the bar in place when it isn't in use. He holds the bar like that for a few seconds, merely supporting the weight before allowing it to drop slowly to his chest. He grunts with exertion as he re-straightens his arms, holding the weight in the air for a moment, then dropping it to his chest again.

"Them scumshits been getting to you Lefty?" Charlie asks appearing, as his custom, from nowhere. Lefty struggles to get the bar back on the catches before sitting up on the bench to face Charlie. "How long you been working for me Lefty?" Lefty rolls his head around his neck in an effort to alleviate the slight stiffness and looks Charlie in the eye.

"Twenty one years." Lefty answers, noting that Charlie's moustache could do with a trim. His dark unkempt hair could also do with cutting, but then Charlie's always looked like that.

"Twenty one years." Charlie echoes as though wondering where all the time has gone. Charlie sits himself on the exercise bike and folds his arms across the handlebars, using them as a cushion for his chin. "Twenty one years Lefty, and not once have you asked me for any time off. Why is that?" Lefty thinks for a short time but can't come up with an answer.

"I don't need time off." Lefty says instead.

"Everyone needs time off now and again." Charlie tells him. "Better that than say... resigning, or... retiring." Lefty's normal poker face flickers, then he smiles.

"How'd you know that?" Lefty asks with no real expectance of an answer; Charlie always knows what thoughts lie in the deepest recesses of his mind.

"One day you'll know the answer to that." Charlie smiles mysteriously. "But you're steering from the point. You're the best man I've got, the one I've earmarked to take over once I'm gone."

"Don't say that." Lefty says in shock.

"It happens to us all." Charlie tells him matter of factly. "The scumshits are getting cleverer, they know about us. Every time I go out these days I'm expecting a bullet in the back of my head." Charlie raises a hand to halt Lefty's protestations. "The fact is Lefty, I need you and when I hear about you wanting to retire it hurts me. So that's why I'm here. I'm here to talk." Charlie waits a moment as though expecting an answer straight away. "So what is it son? Where's all this talk of retiring coming from?" Lefty shakes his head in contemplation, not understanding the reasons behind it himself. "How long since you had a woman." Charlie asks breaking into Lefty's thoughts.

"Never." Lefty answers without an ounce of shame. "You said that they get in the way. That they try and control you, change the way you think." Charlie laughs out loud and Lefty's face clouds over, he has never liked being laughed at, not since... well, since school. Charlie notices Lefty's anger and stops laughing, after all he's here to help not drive him away.

"You misunderstand Lefty." Charlie says soothingly. "I didn't say that so you avoid women all together, I said it to make you aware of the dangers they pose. I said it because... well I suppose what I meant was for you not to fall in love." Charlie pauses for a moment or two to allow the words to sink in. "Take a break." Charlie tells him eventually. "Take a week, two if you need it. Find yourself a woman, whatever it takes. I want you in top form as soon as possible." Lefty drops his head as Charlie's words sink in, and by the time he lifts it back up Charlie has gone.

Lefty takes a shower after his work out and thinks seriously on Charlie's words, maybe it is time for a break, he thinks to himself, but not tonight; tomorrow; definitely tomorrow. After the shower Lefty walks into his bedroom and opens the wardrobe. Inside, it is full of suits, all designer labels, and all either black or navy blue in colour. He picks the black Armani and selects a claret coloured shirt to go with it. Claret is good, it doesn't show the stains.

After dressing and perfecting his appearance in the mirror for ten minutes Lefty goes back to the wardrobe and removes a square wooden box from the bottom of it. He places the box on the bed and opens it, revealing the contents. He looks at the dismantled Beretta, each piece resting in it's own velvet section. Lefty reassembles the gun, taking his time, appreciating the quality. Finally he screws on the silencer and places a shoulder holster over his claret shirt, slotting the gun into place he then puts on his jacket and walks to the full length mirror to check himself out. Satisfied that the gun doesn't show through his jacket, he calls a taxi.

Lefty gets out of the taxi in Birmingham City Center and walks around for a bit trying to find a suitable spot to start work. He finds a pub and notices that it doesn't have any door staff, so he walks in. The bar is one of those new sorts, the type where straights and gays all get along. Lefty walks to the bar and orders a brandy on ice off the transvestite barman. On his first scan of the bar Lefty notices two potential clients or scumshits, as Charlie would call them. Lefty picks the white man, first come, first serve, and he served first, clear as day Lefty witnesses the exchange, illegal product for the crumpled twenty. Lefty picks his moment waiting until the drug dealer goes to the toilet with a customer. He counts to a minute in his head before following after them.

The toilets are small, a row of six urinals, two sinks and two cubicles are its only furniture. One of the cubicles is closed so Lefty enters the other and closes the door behind him. From next door Lefty can a hear a low moaning sound and he uses this to his advantage as he withdraws the Beretta from it's holster. He climbs onto the toilet's cistern and peers over the top of the cubicle. The drug dealer is sitting on the toilet while his male customer is kneeling between his legs, his head bobbing up and down as he administers oral sex. Probably his payment for the drugs, Lefty thinks to himself as he points the gun at the drug dealer's head. The drug dealer feels Lefty's presence and is just about to look him in the eye when Lefty fires the first shot. There's a dull wumph just before the dealer's head explodes amidst a mass of blood and bone. The rent boy carries on sucking, unaware that the dealer has no way of getting any pleasure from it, unaware as Lefty gets ready for the second shot, unaware even as his own head is used for the redecoration of the cubicle. Lefty winces at the rent boy's death, to his mind the rent boy was an innocent who didn't deserve to be taken from the world. Lefty doesn't like having to kill innocents, but better that than leaving someone to point you out in court.

Lefty climbs into the blood spattered cubicle where he strips the dealer of his belongings, placing the three hundred pounds cash into his pocket he flushes the drugs down the toilet before quickly leaving the bar. Once outside Lefty hails a taxi and tells the driver to take him somewhere different.

"What about Bar Grando?" the Punjabi taxi driver asks. "I hear Tom Jones is in town, he always goes there when he visits."

"Fine." Lefty answers and hands the driver a twenty. "Keep the change." The driver's eyes light up and he hurriedly slides the twenty into his pocket.

"Yes sir." The driver says delightedly. "I'll get you there double quick."

"No." Lefty warns. "Take it slow."

"Sir." The driver nods, no less delighted.

The taxi driver takes it slow to the bar and pulls up alongside it.

"Not here, round the corner." Lefty tells him and waits for the car to pull onto the side street before getting out. Lefty watches for a time until the taxi has gone from view before removing his shoulder holster and burying it, along with the gun, in some bushes that nobody should ever have any need to investigate; at least not tonight.

Lefty straightens out his suit and walks past the doormen and into the bar. The bar is a glamorous affair with most of the people trying to glitter just that little bit more than the next person does. Lefty takes himself a comfortable stool at the bar and orders a brandy on ice from the barmaid. While waiting for a drink his eyes fall on a tall black woman who has just taken a seat two away from his. She looks into his eyes and smiles. Lefty finds himself smiling back, and as he looks into her beautiful hazel eyes he can't help but fall in. Lefty gets a grip on himself in time to pay for his ordered drink, and sips at it while trying to stop his eyes from flicking back in her direction.

"Hesitation can be dangerous." She tells him silkily, sitting herself down on the stool next to his. Lefty can't help but glance at her legs that sit long and slender beneath the short, gold, glittery dress. He follows them up to the curvature of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, imagines himself licking her neck as finally he meets her eye once more. She smiles at his appraisal and then leans in to kiss him gently on the lips. "Don't you find small talk boring?" she asks.

"I'm not sure." Lefty answers honestly, making her laugh.

"Come on." She says after a time of silence. "Let's go somewhere proper." Lefty makes as though to refuse but she silences him by putting her lips to his. "Don't you want me?" she whispers. Lefty's whole body screams at him to take her up on the offer, a tiny niggling in the far recesses of his mind the only barrier. Then Lefty remembers his visit from Charlie earlier, remembers him laughing at his admission to being a virgin. "Well do you?" she asks, this time loud enough for others to hear. This final prompt is all he needs to sway him into going and he finishes his drink in an affirmative way.

She walks him to the nightclub, which doesn't take long, as it is only five hundred yards from the bar where they met. She tells him her name's Siobhan and that she works as a secretary. Lefty notices that his head suddenly feels a lot lighter, and can't explain his sudden surge of euphoria as walks past the doormen and into the club. They get a drink at the bar and Siobhan leads him to a table in a darkened corner of the club. Siobhan looks into Lefty's eyes and smiles.

"Yes, you're feeling it now." She says bending down to kiss him before leaving her drink and heading over to the dancefloor. Lefty doesn't know it but he's been spiked with MDMA and right now his brain is being flooded with seratonin. Lefty's eyes flicker from side to side as he tries to re-orientate himself. The drug is only just beginning to work however and as is its effects grow stronger Lefty finds that he is less and less able to fight it. Lefty throws back his head as the euphoria travels the length of his body, his jaw starts to vibrate and the repetitive beats seem to be ordering him to dance. Lefty stands and is immediately covered in smoke, he tries to see Siobhan but the smoke is too thick.

"She's a scumshit Lefty." Charlie tells him, appearing to stand next to him in the smoke. "Over there Lefty, look." Lefty looks in the direction of Charlie's pointed finger and through the clearing smoke he notices Siobhan conversing with two men, watches as she takes a small package off one of the men. "She's a scumshit Lefty." Charlie repeats. "Just cause she's a pretty lady don't make her no better than any of them other scumshits out there."

"No." Is all Lefty can manage, his feeling of euphoria too strong for him to think about hurting anybody.

"Yes." Charlie spits angrily. "She's drugged you Lefty, now why would someone do that?" Lefty turns to look at Charlie to ask him what he means but it is too late; Charlie has gone.

Siobhan joins him a few minutes later, after he has sat down again from fear of falling over.

"Aaah." She soothes. "Somebody's looking a little worse for wear. We better get you home. Where do you live?" Lefty tells her and she orders a taxi, the two men she was talking to earlier have gone.

Lefty takes her back to his house and lies there while she has sex with him. He falls asleep about halfway through and wakes to a quiet bed at around four in the morning. Despite his bed being empty, Lefty has the strangest feeling that someone is still in the house. His suspicions are confirmed when he hears more than one person trying to creep up the stairs. The night's events replay quickly in his mind, including the warning that Charlie gave him in the club. Lefty slides a hand beneath his pillow and closes it around the butt of the thirty-four that has always been there should he ever need to use it. Lefty had always imagined he was too clever to ever have to use it, but now he is extremely grateful for the contingency. He feigns sleep as Siobhan and the two men enter the room, the two men are wearing balaclavas and brandishing baseball bats.

"Hello mate... wakey, wa..." the man is rudely cut off as Lefty swivels and fires, the bullet hitting him between the eyes. The other man barely has time to open his mouth in surprise before Lefty fires again, the shot, like the first, fired with deadly accuracy. The second man hits the floor, quite unaware that he is even dead yet. Siobhan emits a banshee like wail and falls to the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Please." She begs. "We weren't going to hurt you. Please don't."

"Scumshit." Lefty whispers softly; and fires.