Don't like mornings

Coffee one went down his throat quicker than the time it took from getting around a corner, any corner. The second went just as quickly, but with added sugar. Flannagan, or Al, sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

Unfortunately, he was up at 5 in the morning. It was painfully annoying and it did not help that he was in a very degrading mood. His brain would not kick into gear quick enough for things to process and here he was, sitting in a small café, drinking several cups of coffee.

Al wasn't impressed, it was as if his body simply gave up trying to make him lie in and decided that a better course of action was to get him up and make him grumpy. How brilliant.

Today, of all days, he did not carry around his shoulder holsters with his pistols. He was trying a new way of dressing and pretending that he did not have trust issues, acting like a normal human being (which he was not). Flannagan tipped back the last of his next cup of coffee, at this rate, he was pretty sure he had drained the café of their coffee.

"...Can't you...what? The shipment...tomorrow...noon...kill..."

Well, that was an interesting turn of events. Flannagan nearly had a whole burst of energy from the conversation that was taking place behind him.

It was a good thing that they could not see that Al was listening into their conversation. It sounded dangerous, the exact reason why he wanted in on whatever was happening.

Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart stumbled into a quiet café. His usual military fatigues were replaced with an olive green shirt and trousers. They were new apparel, having recently been purchased at a nearby clothing store. Yesterday he'd been going about his usual business, and then BAM! 2015! The worst part was having no explanation for the sudden time-skip. He'd been lucky enough to have UNIT's help in getting him settled for the time being, but he really wanted to know how he ended up so suddenly in the future.

He'd had trouble sleeping the previous night, and was still a little groggy this early in the morning. Nothing that coffee couldn't fix. He was looking for a table when the word "kill" caught his attention. Keeping his eyes off the speaker of the word he decided on a spot close to the conversation. As an experienced military man, that word meant serious business.

Someone was either planning to die or they were planning an execution. So, being his usual self, having perked up ever so slightly, Flannagan decided to bring his empty coffee cup and move to the booth behind him, with the speaker that had said a trigger word.

He was a mercenary, but at the same time, he knew that it was illegal to simply announce that one was indeed a criminal, basically. Alright, so what he seemed to have purposely stumbled into was a meeting of four people.

"Sorry, just wonderin' whether you'd quieten down a bit, mate. There's a lot of chatter comin' from you lot and well, it's distractin' the day."

The four turned to look at him, frowns taking over their facial features. "Who are you?"

Flannagan looked amused at their facial expressions, and decided to look past their initial question. But, two of them raised their jackets to reveal pistols hidden their waist line. Great. The day he did not carry around his guns, other people seemed to have a great idea to go and shoot somebody.

"No one of great importance. I jus' wanted to tell you all to shut up. Because, if it were me, mate...the whole bloody town can hear you speak about some hushed up plan and--"

They sprung to action, the two he sat next to grabbed his arms and the other two drew their pistols. So, they were professionals. That was a challenge. But shooting in broad daylight? That was a step too far.

Bang! Bang!

Two bullets were fired into Al's center of mass. They hit his skin and caused two dents in his chest. Al slumped, they let go and he found himself hitting the ground. They decided to get up and leave, people looked around, screaming at Al's body. He groaned as the process of healing began, they were large dents and he wondered why exactly he wasn't dying.

"Ow..."

It seemed as if four men were planning something illegal. Or it could simply be a hunting trip and he was overreacting to the word "kill". Either way, he felt it wise to continue listening in. If they really were criminals, the kind foolish enough to mention their activities in broad daylight in a public cafe, then he'd take advantage of it. If he was correct in his assumptions, then he'd be preventing a murder before it even happened.

Then a fifth man joined them. He didn't seem to be in league with the other four as he only approached them to ask about keeping it down. The brig wouldn't have paid anymore attention to him, expecting him to leave and for the other four to resume unknowingly implicating themselves.
Then two of the men furthest away from him lifted their jackets, revealing weapons. On instinct, his hand quickly reached down and undid his holster, his fingers brushing against his own revolver, ready to pull it out. He was correct, it seemed they really were up to no good. He hoped the newcomer would be sufficiently scared enough to leave them alone, without the situation becoming too drastic. Though instead of backing down, the newcomer had the gall to talk about their plans right in front of them...

He wasn't surprised at what happened next. In an instant, the two men closest to him grabbed the man and held his arms down, while the others who'd revealed their pistols pulled them out. Immediately he heard two rounds tear into the other man's chest. He slumped forward then hit the ground. The quiet cafe immediately erupted into a torrent of screams, the other patrons either dashing for the safety of the outside or hiding under tables. The four men had gotten up, wisely deciding to leave before they were arrested.

It was four against one. Their backs were turned to him, the perfect opportunity. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" He commanded, getting up and pointing his revolver at their backs. The man they'd shot still seemed to be alive, he hoped he could resolve this situation peacefully, and get him to a hospital.

Flannagan was down faster than one could imagine, but at least his blood was not spilling all across the floor of the nice cafe, the last thing he wanted was to be kicked out of it for ruining the customer reputation. He watched as the men all dropped their weapons, they did not have the intention of stopping and showing their faces, they had already killed a man who had snooped into their business matters.

The way the words were spoken made Flannagan flinch ever so slightly as it reminded him much of his home planet, and the person that ruled over them until his escape. A general of sorts, either that or a military person, either way, they were all the same to him.

The four men had dropped their weapons but had made a break for the door, each one getting out and disappearing, almost into thin air. Flannagan rolled onto his other side, clutching at the spot where it hurt the most. "A little help, mate, much appreciated..." Of course, by now, people had ample time to call for help, meaning the police were going to surround the building, set up a perimeter and interrogate everyone.

By that time, Al wanted to be long gone.

The brigadier was tense. He knew full well that it was four on one. He moved towards one of the café tables, prepared to flip it over and use it as cover if they started firing. At least their backs were turned to him. He was confident he'd be able to take out one if they turned and tried to shoot him. But he'd still be outnumbered.

He was therefore relieved, when all four men dropped their weapons and tried to flee. Sighing in relief, the brig was up on his feet, holstering his revolver and dashing after them through the café door. However, once outside, he could find no trace of them. Perhaps they'd teleported away He thought, as he reentered the café. His line of work always involved teleporters and other fancy gadgets that weren't readily available in his decade. But this was the future, humanity surely must've upgraded its technology. He wouldn't be surprised if those four men were actually aliens in disguise. After all, they'd not only mentioned their plans in the open, where they could easily be overheard, they'd also shot a man in public. Most human criminals tried to keep their activities a secret. He wouldn't be surprised if some alien race had a different way of doing things.

The café was empty except for the shooting victim and a barista who'd hidden himself behind a counter. He was currently calling an ambulance. Normally he'd stay and wait for police to interrogate him, but then he realized, he wasn't from this time period. The police would be wondering what two brigadiers would be doing here. He'd have to leave before they could cordon off the area. The man on the floor called out to him, asking for help. The brigadier moved over to him, to see if he was alright. To his surprise, the man was already healing from his gunshot wound. Could he...no he couldn't be of his lot. But the brigadier had seen for himself that the doctor's race were capable of changing their entire body to heal otherwise fatal damage. "I notice your wound is already healing, you wouldn't happen to be from another planet perhaps?"

Flannagan looked at the man, his vision was returning to it's normal state and he tried to sit up, of course, it would take a while till the wound fully healed and it would be stupid to move himself. He looked at the Brig. He had asked for help, what did the man do? Stand there and ask him whether he was an alien. Al tilted his head to one side. "Another planet where there are humans, look, mate, there's a long story behind this, best saved for another time, away from 'ere."

Seeing that he wasn't going to be helped up off the floor any time soon, Flannagan clutched at his wound and used the seats to get himself standing upright with a little grunt of pain. Technically, he was from another time period, different planet and well, a government he was hoping had forgotten about him. Yet, that did not seem the case, especially with the fact he had been their second most wanted...Flannagan looked around, "Probably should be leavin', mate, don't want the police stoppin' us."

It was too bad he was a regular human, one of the doctor's own race could've gotten him home. The man seemed frantic to leave the café before it was cordoned off, sentiment shared by the brig. "Yes..." he agreed, heading for the door.

Al was glad that he was a human, or at least some sort of human race that could heal himself. That was something he could not find out on the internet.

He was hoping that they could pursue the attackers, of course, he would have to wait a while, seeing that he was not exactly in fit shape as of right now, to go chasing. "A few broken ribs, bruisin'...shouldn't 'urt this much..." Flannagan winced as he walked out of the cafe, holding his side with one arm.

"Mate, I think we need to go after them. They mentioned a docks that they were goin' to, it's best we head there ourselves...Taxi!" Hertz stuck a hand out, waving down a taxi and getting himself in, looking at the other man, raising an eyebrow. "You gettin' in or what?"

The brig followed the injured man out the door. He seemed far more worried about what the four men where going to do than what they had done to him. Obviously he'd heard more about their plans, so the brig decided to follow his lead, he sat down next to the man and closed the door, waiting for the man to tell the driver which dock they were headed to. Perhaps the man would be in a more healthy state once they got there, and he wouldn't be taking on a gang on his own.