Stepping inside, the place was certainly not what I expected it to be.  Nearly empty and sparsely furnished, only a bar and some booths populate the place.  A guy and a girl are sitting in a corner playing with glow sticks in rhythm to some techno song playing low in the background.  I glance over at the bartender who is sterotypically cleaning glasses with a dirty rag.  He glances in my direction with disinterest and returns to his chore.  Lara makes a beeline for a doorway located on the opposite side of the room.  I struggle to keep up with her pace but my extremities feel disconnected, numb.

I can begin to feel myself breaking out in a sweat, a line of condensation forming around my collar.  I allow my mind to wander a little, wondering if this is a side effect of the pill I took.  What the hell was that thing, anyway?  The gravity of the situation is starting to sink in.  I'm not sure what I took, where I am, who I am with, or what I am doing here.  The Desert Eagle feels heavy in my waistband.  I haven't shot anyone since grade school.  "Hurry up and get over here," Lara says, interrupting my self-question and answer session.  With more effort than should be necessary or possible, I manage to convince my body to move in the right direction and fall in line behind Lara as we pass through the doorway.

Inside, seated at a rather ornate conference table, are three middle-aged Chinese men, each dressed to the hilt in what I can only assume are custom tailored suits.  "Carmen!" the man in the middle roars.  "We didn't expect to see you here.  What a pleasant surprise."  He speaks in accented English, sounding like he is trying to speak with a mouthful of water.  Why did her call her Carmen?  "Cut the crap, Han.  You know damn well why I am here."  The men surrounding Han begin to rise as Lara continues.  "You told me that I could expect 100 kilos.  You only gave me 75.  Did you think that i wouldn't notice?"

"Carmen, calm down.  I shipped 100.  If you didn't get it all then you ought to be talking to the delivery people, not me."  I can see Lara's irritation level rise while the two bodyguards continue to inch ever closer.  The one on the left looks a bit twitchy.  I take a few steps back to get out of harms way.  I'm in no condition to help.  "They were your people, Han.  You hired them.  You fix the problem or this could get messy real quick."  She flashes a glimpse of the weapon she has tucked away.  A look of panic briefly crosses Han's face before he regains his composure.  "I don't take too kindly to threats, Carmen."  A quick motion of his hand and the bodyguards take their signal.  Unfortunately for them, they are too slow.

Lara has her gun out faster than you can blink, squeezing off a round into the head of the first bodyguard.  He crumples to the floor like a ragdoll.  The second one isn't spared so quickly.  Flipping the gun and grabbing it's barrel, she crashes the butt of the gun into the side of the oncoming attacker's head.  I watch in awe as she continues to pistol-whip him until he falls limply to the floor.  She levels her weapon back at Han.  "Now, where's the rest of my shipment?" she asks.  "I was going to give it to you!  Joke.  Just a joke, Carmen!" Han proclaims but with little conviction.  "Sometimes a fool doesn't know he's a fool, Han."  Turning her head to look in my direction, she issues his death sentence.  "Finish him for me."

I snap out of my haze of distraction and begin to fidget nervously.  I never should have taken the gun.  I try my best to hide the fear I feel, the lake of sweat developing in the small of my back.

"I... I can't. I just-"

"Snap out of it you little prick.  I didn't bring you along with me to bitch out now.  You're either with me on this one or you're against me.  And I think you know what happens to people who are against me."  I manage to move my arm, enough to make an effort for the gun tucked in my pants, each nerve in my body feeling like it's on fire.  Perhaps that's the pill again.  A sense of rage, undirected, uncontrolled, begins to sweep over me.  I don't hate Han, I hate everything.  I feel like I want to destroy all the pretty things that make the world beautiful.  What the hell am I doing?  What is happening to me?  I grip the handle of the gun and remove it from its hiding place, the weight heavy to carry with my slippery hands.  I make an effort to raise the gun, quite unsteadily, but my arms simply refuse to cooperate.  My head is fighting a civil war with my body, neither side winning or losing, merely destroying.  Lara presses the muzzle of her gun hard against my head.  "I'm tired of waiting.  I'm going to count to three before I fire."  My head is tilted at a slight angle now thanks to the pressure against my temple, the once cold steel still warm from the previous firing.  "One," she commands.  Panic is in full swing now.  "Two."  Think man, think.  It's kill or be killed.  Right now.  "Three."

To be continued...