2. “You really need to learn how to take a punch.” Bash heard a voice say. “Or a gun butt or whatever. You’ve been out for like an hour.” He attempted to see where the voice was coming from but his eyes had their own agenda. He could tell from the pain that his right was most likely swollen shut. Through his left he could only make out the occasional form through a clotted pink blur. That god-damned familiar smell of bleach and mildew was the only hint that he was still in the deli. Or below it anyway. The gun crept further into his mouth.