Alan wanders down a street, talking with one of his associates. He had no idea what he was talking about, just some useless drivel about finance. They pass an alleyway and Alan sees a figure without realising it, a figure he had sought after for a long time. A few steps later, Alan realises. He runs back to the alley, saying to the associate

"I'll have to get back to you later. There's something I have something to attend to!"

Alan spots the figure running down another alleyway, a few seconds ahead. The figure seems to be laughing. Alan swears loudly, unholstering his gun. He screams down the alley, quickly gaining on the man. He aimed and fired, missing by inches. The man then turned around and shouted.

"I'm gonna kill you like your deadbeat father! You hear? You're dead!"

Alan growls, firing again, missing again. The man then pulled out his own gun. Alan sighed, once again feeling that emptiness, the emptiness he had felt so long ago. He had no hope, no idea what was to become of him. Then something else sparked inside him, the primal need to live. Alan saw the man smile evilly, then tense his finger on the trigger. Alan ran towards him, too late. Alan felt an agonising pain in his side and gasped. He tackled the man, punching him, then falling off of him, almost unconscious.

"I will come for you, once more. One shall fall, one shall live. Make preparations for your funeral, as it will be yours, I promise!"

The man spat and walked away, leaving Alan in a pool of his own blood. They found him the next day, almost dead. He was taken to hospital where they nursed him to health. He never spoke a word about what he was doing with a bullet in him. Omerta.