[b]The clapping resonated through the vintage bar. The man had just downed twenty drinks in ten minutes, quite an impressive feat. Most, after five minutes, lost interest and left back to their tables, chatting and flirting like normal. The drinker sat down back at the bar with a sigh, his mind muddled. The tender simply told him to get out of the seat and on to a bed. So, he walked out of the bar and onto the street. Putting his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the brick wall, the neon sign glowing with "Dan's Bar." He ended up throwing up on the sidewalk, slipping in it, and hitting his head. He never woke up. The four armed man removed the machete from the knocked out man's head, and walked into the establishment. Ten minutes, screaming, and gun shots, the building lay quiet, only the buzz of the sign keeping the area from silence. A wet growl escaped into the night. [/b] [spoiler]Open, he's still in the bar. [/spoiler]