"Ugh....shit. I should be getting back. They're gonna kick my head in for being gone this long." He wasn't entirely sure how long he had been away, only that his clean shaven face had started to grow a light beard.  Splashing water in his face to wake up, he stared back in the mirror for a moment as he tried to remember the last week. Not that he could mind you, he was barely even sure where he was standing right at this moment. The decor indicated it to be some crap run down motel. Stepping out into the main room he saw a few women sprawled across the bed that were either half clothed or not at all. Moving closer, he noticed the needles that they had between them and in a panic looked down at his arms to find any marks. When he found none he sighed in relief and slapped himself across the face. He may have liked his drinking a little more than most people, but he would be damned if he turned himself into some sort of junkie. He swore he wouldn't fall that low. 

Grabbing his jacket that lay across a chair, he opened the door and left the women to collect themselves when they were ready and went to find his car. It was always like this when he drank. The memories always stayed fuzzy for a while, sometimes not revealing themselves for weeks after the fact. He had a problem and he knew that, but no matter what he tried to do he couldn't quit the sauce. His mates had all talked to him about it, trying to get him help before it got worse, but he just shrugged it off and ignored their advice. What did it matter to them how much he drank? It hadn't killed him yet, and it probably never would. Shaking his head, he got into his car and began to drive back to HQ, trying to prepare himself for the chewing he was about to get. He could picture everyone's face as they shouted insults at him, maybe one of them would throw a punch. Not that he wasn't deserving of just that to be sure. 

As he pulled up to the HQ, he could tell immediately that something was off. None of the other cars were there, and the front door looked like it had been kicked in. Stepping out he reached for his handgun and approached the building. It was quiet, far too quiet. This time of day it was usually full of bustling and laughter, not the crypt that it appeared to be. Pushing open the door he saw several pieces of furniture had been tipped over and bullet holes in the walls. "Astra! Albert! The fuck is everyone!?" He of course got no response as no one was there. Anything that happened had been days away by now, and already moved on from. He was overwhelmed with emotions. How could this happen while he was off pissing his life away? How could he let this happen without even being here to put up a fight? He was disgusted with himself, and angry with everything at that moment. Slamming the door behind him as he left, he walked to the nearest newspaper dispenser to get himself a copy and hopefully find answers as to what happened. Mouth hung open, he read it apprehensively. The obituary was full of big time names from his own city and others across the nation. Not only had Morningwood been taken down, but several others. "What the hell happened..."

Pulling the flask from his jacket, he immediately tossed it into the nearby trashcan. He wasn't going to be touching that shit again. He wouldn't be caught napping and let his world get yanked out from under him anymore. It was with that resolve that he got himself a plane ticket and left his city, to find himself a new start where no one would know his shame.