The acrid smell of tar paper and creosote filled the air in the thick New Orleans heat. The July sun baked the earth and the tropical conditions of Lousianna made the humidity almost unbearable. Beads of sweat poured down my head and dripped down my collar.  I squinted against the glaring light and peered over the side of the building I was standing on at the frenetic scene below.  The street shimmered through the heat as people screamed, gunshots echoed, and cars burned. It was a full blown riot down there, and I stood, frozen and waiting to take my next move. I slowly backed away from the edge and shivered with a feeling of dread, and  I suddenly felt nauseaus and shaky.  I took off my hat and wiped my brow with a sodden handkerchief, trying to breathe normally.  As I turned around, I saw him out of the corner of my eye.  I must have been followed up here and he had his gun trained directly at my nose.  With a swift movement I threw my hankie at him and reached for my gun, ducking out of the way of the first bullet that hit the brick behind my knee.  I fired a shot in his direction and ran for the door, hoping to make it there in time.  The second shot echoed out from his gun and hit the ground at my feet.  I lunged for the door, desperate to open it when the third bullet ripped through my right shoulder.  I could hear my scream as though someone else had made it as I stumbled sideways and turned. I could feel the heat of the blood under my jacket as it bloomed from the wound above my should blade.  I turned angrily and aimed my pistol, firing towards my asailant. My shot hit him just as his last bullet hit me. It was an odd feeling as it hit my head, I could hear and see everything in slow motion and  I only remember seeing him crumple before I hit the edge of the roof and fell.

"JAYSUS MARY AND JOSEPH!" I screamed, reaching for the rosary that hung from my neck.  My sheets were tangled around my legs and arms like a snake and my breath came in ragged gasps.  That dream haunted me almost every night and it still scared me nearly a year later.  I had woken up one day, not knowing who I was or where I came from.  Just a bunch of scars, that dream, and my name.  Ciaran Brannagan. Hell it wasn't even my name, just one given to me by a 16 year old girl because it reminded her of her Da'.  Claire was her name, a firey young lady with a score to settle and no idea how to do it.  She and I had partnered up a few months back and traveled from city to city stopping only to rob someone when we needed money, or sleep in some seedy hotel when I couldn't see the road any more.  Here we were in another dump as Claire looked over from her small bed, her arms wrapped about her knees in a sort of interested boredom.  "i'll go make coffee" she said, and stood up.  The small hotel room we shared had a hot pot, two beds, a broken dresser, and a bathroom.  I had no idea what city we were in, we had just driven up, checked in, and gone to bed.  As she handed me my cup, her soft eyes sparked with curiosity.  "where we headed to today?"  She asked.

He wandered through a rundown old hotel checking door knobs hoping for an unlocked room to rob an unsuspecting patrol. He hadn't had any luck yet, but he kept trying. He made it all the way to the last door, and tried the handle. Looks like he was going to have to get his hands dirty. Duke pulled his gun out of the holster on the inside of his suit coat. He tapped on the door, and got ready for the fight of his life. He shifter towards the wall to minimize how much of him stuck out an pointed his gun to where the door would open.

Ciaran opened the door no more than a tiny crack, not even enough to pull the chain taut and looked out through the crack. He saw the fancy toe of the other man's shoe and his heart sank. He slammed the door closed and twisted the lock before running to grab the bag and Claire. "COPS!" he hissed as he headed for the back window and slammed it open. Kicking out the screen he threw the bag which contained their money and guns, shoved Claire through even though she was still in her night dress, and jumped out onto the grass below.

Duke watched as the door opened a tiny bit and slammed back shut. He didn't know what was in that room, but it had to be something good. He gave the door a swift kick near the handle. The door gave in, but it was stopped by the chain. He kicked it one more time, but the chain was too strong. He held up his gun to the chain, turned his head away from the blast, and pulled the trigger. Duke slid back to the wall and pushed the door open. He peeked in the room for a split second and then moved back into cover. The room appeard clear, but he walked cautiously through the room. He got to the open window and peek out looking left then right. He saw two dark figures moving below running away from the motel.

Ciaran looked back for a split second when he heard the gunshot. He saw the young man approach the window and stare out at them, and then he saw the gun. Without thinking he pulled his pistol as Claire struggled to unlock the car door, and stood there waiting to defend her at the cost of his own life.

Duke hoped down from the window. Landing awkwardly, he dropped his gun. he felt around what seemed like ages, but finally found the warm metalllic weapon. He picked it up and ran to the their car. He made it about half way and the two figures which he could now see where actually a man and a woman. They had made it all the way into the car and were speeding off. Duke stopped running, holstered his gun, and walked to his car. He quickly pulled out of the parking lot, and tried to follow the speeding car.

Ciaran cursed under his breath in Gaelic Cac What does this guy want? He dove down a small street and flew around another corner, hoping to lose the guy that was trailing him. He himself wasn't frightened but for Claire. He had made a promise that no one would touch her and so far he felt like a huge failure. Her wide eyes stared at him coolly as if to say "what are you running from, you have a gun don't you?"

Claire was already on her third cup of coffee when Ciaran jerked awake, screaming to his Lord. She cringed a little, wondering what he saw in the stories about old, dead gods. Once he was awake enough not to panic and choke her, she stroked his forehead, then sat back down on her bed to watch as he drifted all the way into consciousness. When he made eye contact she gave him a small smile and got up to make coffee.

The camp style coffee maker sputtered and spit while Claire brushed her teeth and hair and decided what outfit from her limited wardrobe would be the least likely to smell. Once her long auburn hair was shining she poured Ciaran a cup of coffee and took it out to him.

"Where we headed to today?" she asked casually.

Ciaran took a sip and opened his mouth to answer when there was a knock at the door. Claire ignored it until Ciaran hissed "COPS!" in a harsh whisper. He grabbed her by the hand and kicked open the back window, shoving her through before all of the screen was broken out. She plummeted, flailing her arms, the ground under the window breaking her fall, small rocks digging into her palms and right knee.

While Ciaran covered the window, he tossed Claire the keys to their car. She fumbled with them, desperately trying to get the driver's side door open. Her hands stung and the blood made her fingers slick. Finally she jerked the door open and lept inside, jamming the keys in the ignition she cursed under her breath, wishing she had taken Ciaran up on his offer to teach her how to drive.

Ciaran made it to the car and slammed the door shut, jamming his feet down on the clutch and the gas, jerking away from the curb, swearing in Gaelic.

Ciaran looked over at Claire who was bandaging up her hand with one of his clean shirts and rolled his eyes.

"That was my best shirt Claire!" he said with an exasperated tone. Without a second though, He stomped on the brake pedal and spun the steering wheel. They made an abrupt U-turn before stopping. He figured that sooner or later they would have to stop and face this ceann cac who was tailing them. The other car came to a grinding halt and the two men glared at each other through their dusty windshields. Ciaran drew his gun out of the holster and opened the door of the Packard, ready for the showdown. As The other man opened his door, he held out a small white handkerchief and waved it, hoping that he could get his point across before the bullets started flying.

Duke pulled over to the side of the road near an intersection. He pulled out his cigerette, and lit it up. He slouched back into his seat, and exhaled the smoke from his lungs. There is no way those two got away so easily they were pretty crafty for two love birds. Duke's attention was caught by the sounds of tires squealing to a halt. He looked over and saw a man pointing a gun at another car. The other car was waiving a white hankerchief in defeat. Duke threw out his half smoked cigerette, and pulled over to the commotion. Duke got out of his car and approached the conflict, that may have been escalting a little too quickly.

Excuse me, but what seems to be the problem here.

Thats when Duke noticed the man pointing the gun. He looked fermiliar, but he couldn't quite remember. After a few seconds it came to Duke. the man with the gun was the same man that was at his Pizzeria just a few days ago...

Wait Ciaran is the you?!?

Ciaran looked wildly in the direction of the voice, he had a panicked wild look about him. He looked back at the driver of the vehicle, who was still faintly waiving his hankie out the window and sweating profusely. He knew at once that he was being played. He barked something incoherent that the driver and motioned with his gun for the man to move on. The car roared to life and the pudgy man sped away for his life. Slowly he spun and faced Duke, still pointing his gun, his chest heaving with anger.

"What's the meaning of this?" He breathed in a barely audible whisper. "You come to my hotel room, scare me half to death, Chase me around in your car, and then STAND there and ask me if it's ME?!?!?"

Ciaran began cursing loudly in Gaelic as he sheathed his gun. He knew it was the only way for him to calm down and not shoot the man standing in front of him now.

Duke was relieved when Ciaran put away his pistol. He looked furious, and Duke thought he was about to get shot.

Well i was at the hotel looking for someone to rob. I got to the last door way and knocked hoping to catch someone off guard and rob them. You know make some quick cash. As you now know that didn't turn out to well. I thought i was going to have to kill someone tonight to keep them from going to the police. I'm just glad it was you. What do you say we get out of this heat, and go get a drink? We can talk more about our day.

Duke smiled, and wiped away the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve.

Still shaking with anger and frustration, Ciran looked back at Claire who was still in the car. She was quietly reading a book as though nothing had happened. She looked over her book at him and smiled before popping it once again in front of her face. He could see that her hand was still bound up in the rags of his shirt, but it looked like the bleeding had stopped. Ciaran rounded again to Duke who twiddled his thumbs nervously awaiting his reply.

"Since it's still morning, how about we go find a place to get help for Claire's hand, then somewhere to eat. Your treat for scaring the hell out of me and my sister here. Then after that we can go back to my hotel and get the rest of our things. Don't think for a second that you are off the hook yet my friend, I'm still way too mad for that, but the day has room for improvement.

He straightened his jacket and brushed lint off the cuff, hoping that the dark black was enough to cover the stains from Claire's hand.