Start Fiction:
Sweat trickled down Lou's back. A sick feeling that made him feel dirty, even just out of the shower. But having a gun pointed at your head can do strange things to a person. At least his shorts were clean, for now.
"Where is she?" the man shouted at Lou. He looked to be in his early twenties; standing about six foot, maybe two hundred pounds, with an athletic build. His baseball cap was pulled down tight over his dark hair.
"Who are you talking about?" he pleaded which earned him a smack from the butt of the man's pistol. "Son of a bitch!" Lou cried out, grabbing his head dropping to his knees.
"I ain't playing no games," the man said grabbing his collar, pulling him up. "I know you and you know her, so let's stop me kicking the shit out of you and go about our business."
"Great," Lou said, "I'd be all for it if I knew who in the hell you were talking about!"
"Eileen," he shouted through his teeth. He pushed Lou against the wall, tightening his grip on his collar, and kept pushing Lou into the wall.
"I don't know any Eileen," Lou said. He searched his mind for any Eileen's he had ever met. Nothing came to him. "Perhaps a last name or a nickname would jog my memory," he said smiling. The man did not find it humorous, not that it necessarily was meant to be funny.
"Like an alias?"
"Maybe I do know her," Lou said as the man's grip loosened slightly.
"Yeah, maybe," he said as he let go of Lou.
"What's your name again?"
The man stepped back and pointed the gun at Lou's chest. He twisted his head hard and fast, several loud pops came from his neck.
"Don't try and trick me, pretty boy," he said. "You can just call me Gus."
"Nice to meet you Gus," Said as he stuck out his hand only to quickly pull it back. "Sorry, stupid move!"
"Boy, are you retarded or something?"
"I could be, but why don't you shoot me and put me out of my misery as this storyline is going absolutely nowhere," Lou said. And he was right, this is going absolutely nowhere...
End Fiction.
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