Bullet..

Walking around I hear the earth seeking relief

I'm trying to find a reason to live

But the mindless clutter my path

He checked the Beretta pistol he held in each hand. Both safeties were off with a round chambered. The black, checkered grip was cool, and the heavy, solid weight of the pistol was comforting. A wooden door with a green glowing neon sign spelling BAR above it was ahead of him. The neon sign buzzed like an annoying insect, and for a brief moment he considered shooting it out, but checked himself. He had a job to do. Walking up to the door he pressed his ear against it, he could hear incoherent murmurs of voices on the inside but nothing else.

Oh these thorns in my side

I know I have something free

I have something so alive

I think they shoot cause they want it
This was it. He took a deep breath, took a step back and kicked the door just above the handle. The wood splintered and the door flew back against its hinges. He was inside room before the door rebounded. Time slowed to a crawl, he seemed to be outside his body, as if watching a movie.

I feel forces all around me

Come on raise your head

Those who hide behind the shadows

Live with all that's dead

There were six of them, three at each of the two tables between him and the bar. They were all dressed in casual clothes with brown leather jackets. Various pistols and other assorted odds and ends lay on the tables. The CRACK of the door breaking open snapped their heads around. His revenge began here. A mental image of his wife and baby daughter crawled into his mind. He saw bloody revenge was at hand. He aimed a Beretta at each table and started pulling the trigger as fast as he could.

Look at me... look at me

At least look at me when you shoot a bullet through my head

Through my head

Through my head

The muzzles of the Beretta's spat jagged flame, their slides raced back ejecting a gleaming brass shell, then raced forward again, slamming another round into the chamber. The rounds struck the table spraying shards of wood everywhere, the men at each table tried to rise but the rush of slugs hit them at the same time. He could see each one with amazing clarity. He saw their facial expressions change from one of boredom, to surprise, and then to pain. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating the path of the bullets. It was as if he had fired a gigantic shotgun.

In my lifetime when I'm disgraced

By jealousy and lies

I laugh aloud 'cause my life

Has gotten inside someone else's mind

The slides on the Berettas locked back on an empty chamber. The last shell casing was still in the air when he thumbed the magazine release on the pistols. The heavy magazines fell out and thumped on the floor by his feet. Sweeping back his jacket he took out two magazines and expertly reloaded the pistols. With a savage clack-clack he jacked a round into their chambers. The door on the left side of the room opened and two goons raced in, Mac-10's at the ready. He raced forward and dove towards the bar. In mid- air he swiveled his upper body towards the two new men and opened fire. Time slowed down. He could see clearly the shockwaves that trailed behind each bullet as they screamed mercilessly towards their targets. The spent shell casings drifted off to his left. He ceased fire; the two thugs were already starting to fall. Their weapons dropped by lifeless hands.

Look at me...look at me

At least look at me when you shoot a bullet through my head

Through my head

Through my head
He slammed onto the top of the bar and rolled across the top of it as five thugs armed with pistols raced in from the door on the right. They opened fire as he fell behind the bar. Bottles of liquor shattered, filling the room with the smell of scotch. Glass was flying everywhere; bullets were smashing through the wood door. He reloaded one pistol and tossed the other one. Experience told him to wait until the firing slowed down. What the hell did he care? He rose up into the middle of the firestorm. The five thugs were arranged in a loose line. He went from left to right, he swung his pistol in line with a man and fired. The man crumpled as a bullet exploded with calm force out the back of his head. He calmly fired rapidly as if he were back on the police training range. One target, one shot. The flash of the pistols pointed at him announced the impending arrival of the bullets rushing mindlessly. Bullet time kicked in again in full force. His senses felt hyper-accelerated, within a world of their own. Spinning smoothly, he dodged the bullets streaking towards him as he released the magazines and slapped new ones into place. As he spun towards the last man, the first man was still falling, a statue cloaked in blood. The sights lined up smoothly, he fired two rounds into the chest of the man, raised the gun and fired one into his head. The man fell straight back. The macabre dance of death had ended with the last bullet, an exclamation mark for everything that had happened til this point in time.

Hey all I want is what's real

Something I touch and can feel

I'll hold it close and never let it go

Said why...why do we live this life

With all this hate inside

The redness in his vision faded, the room was quiet except for the distant ringing in his ears. The room was full of bullet holes, it looked like a war movie had been filmed here. Weapons and bodies were everywhere. He gathered some pistol magazines and stuck them in his pocket. Collecting evidence had gotten old a few hundred bullets back. He sighed; it was going to be a long night. He had a long list of people that needed to be killed.

Please help me find a place

Somewhere far away I'll go and you'll never see me again.