Big Boss OBrien
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(Short Story) [40k] Robert Thrasen, Loser or Winner? (v.2)
In the Imperium of man, three things mattered most. No, none of that love crap. At least not to Robert Thrasen. His experiances taught him three things ran the universe: money, power, and big guns. 'Well,' he thought to himself, 'at least I have that last one.'

Now wasn't much of a time to be speculating about the universe, but it gave him something to do while waiting for the shooting to stop. With a long sigh Thrasen recalled the good old days when drunks only came in with their fists and some credits. Made them a lot easier to shoot. He hadn't meant to get into the fight in the first place, really. He couldn't have known the girl was married. Alas, it was a little late for reasoning.

"Ha! That will teach you, street trash!" one of the men chuckled in a pompous voice.

'I think I've decided I really hate that guy's fragging tone.' Thrasen switched the safety off his shotgun calmly.

"Did we get him?" another voice, probably the wiry little b*****d.

"Must have! Put enough holes in that table to kill a Space Marine!"

Peronally, Thrasen thought that was a bit of a stretch, as he was still intact minus a few cuts. The sound of magazines dropping to the floor happily greeted his hears. In a fluid motion, he rose from his spot and blindly fired his shotgun towards the table they'd knocked over for cover, "You missed!"

He squeezed the trigger untill it started to click, then finally paused to look over at the mess. Holes covered the wall and surrounding area. He grinned, 'Glad I put up a few credits for theses manstopper rounds..' The lard head was laying in a pool of his own greasy blood. He shouldered the shotgun.and moved hopped over his table, strolling over with a nod before-mentioned woman, who was bravely peeking out of the bathroom door.

"s**t!" the skinny man's voice caught Thrasen's ears, along with the sound of a magazine being smacked home.

"Gah!" Thrasen dived backwards as the nozzle of an autogun popped over the table to meet him. There were a few startled shouts throughout the tavern, likely the poor drunkards who'd thought the shooting had finally stopped. 'Emperor's teeth, this wasn't the best time to have missed.' Thrasen scrambled across the floor behind the comfort of the counter.

"I'll get ya you b*****d! Creg was my buddy you damned-"

Thrasen's intrest tuned out about there as he started shoving slugs in his shotgun as fast as it would eat them up. How many times would he be in this position in one night? Frag it all. He racked the shotgun and blasted a shot over the counter towards the punk. The automatic fire snapped in a upward line and he heard a thud.

"Better make sure I got you this time." he rose and walked over to the man. He had got him, fourtunatly. The bleeding hole in his leg was a good sign of that.

"You won't get away wi-"

"Don't want to hear it." he fired into the man's gut and sighed. They had made a fine mess of this place. 'Better not stay and find out what the owner thinks.' Thrasen thought. He gathered up the weapons of fallen foes, and quickly walked out the exit. "One of those days." he mumbled.