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The Alley

Max was battered and bruised. He staggered down the alley holding his right side. He figured that a rib or two might be broken after throwing himself out of the third story window. And bouncing off a car hood. He guessed it could be worse.

He leaned up against a dumpster for support, his brain going on pure adrenaline. 

His left arm was shattered as well, and hung at an odd angle. Not counting the three bullet wounds along it, as well. He figured there were a few more in him. He knew he could count a few more in him.

His body was covered in third degree burns, as well. Hell, he had expected a trap but he hadn't expected that half the force would be waiting for him. They had wanted him dead, and he managed to escape by taking out 300+ of the goons.

"What a day," Max muttered to himself. He spotted a butt on the ground and bent over to pick it up. "Well, at least my luck is changing for the better."