35 C &A

Dylan enters the bar, he was to drop off the bottles of wine Rosie requested for before heading at 35 C&A.

" Here you go."

As he made his way to the door, he had perceived earlier on he would be walking right into a dead end. Which he loved such challenge, walking away from such scenarios wasn't the right option. He agreed strongly.

"Going somewhere?" Rosie asked, as she unpacks the bottles of wine. Arranging them in the collection.

"Well, I have got some unattended business I need to settle, see you later Miss Houston."

HE LEAVES

Dylan seats on a chesterfield armchair, on the table made of mahogany, was a wooden box in front of him. He uncloses the box, undrapes the SINGLE-ACTION REVOLVER.

He opens the chamber of the gun, inserting 3 more bullets singlehandedly, been wrapped in a red shred.

Dylan walks his way into an abandoned open space, right by his side was an old rusty pedestal-mount mailbox.

He walked past the chain-link fence of an old warehouse, the squawking of some penguins he hears before they all flew off. The quietness of the place seemed suspicious.

Out of the blue, came a GUNSHOT.

Dylan ducks down behind a parked car by the corner. Windows BLOW OUT, glass spraying all over the limestone floor.

Dylan scrambles forward, keeping low. Draws his gun. Risks a peek: three men, TWO GUNMEN and DRIVER.

Squeezing off three rounds, Dylan lands two of them in one of the gunmen. Cocks his gun immediately, ONE GUNMAN down, one left and the driver.

The Driver grabs his buddy and floors it, too scared to risk themselves having seem what has become of their partner, noticing all coast was clear outside, Dylan went further into their building. It was all empty, with water drips from the leaked roof, Dylan clenched his hands on the straightened gun waiting for an outcome.

As he meanders towards the door, Dylan caught sight of few dark red spots of blood dotting the concreted floor, he takes a deep breath and reached for the door's handle. Trying to push away thoughts of what might be on the other side.

His breath caught in his throat as he tried not retch at the sight, Dylan wanted to look away, finding the need to tear his eyes away but he couldn't. Dylan opens the door, a fight had broke out in the room with the way it was shabby.

Lying in a pool of blood in the center of the room was Negan.

In a sprawled position, his pallid body looked lifeless and cold against the marble-floor of the room.

His eyes slightly opened, Dylan observed the spots he has been shot. He crouches over to the body, shutting his eyes.

Dylan eye's flashes to a piece of paper in his hand, he takes it out.

It had a number, A-3-5-1

Could it be the reason he was killed? Dylan thought. What connection the lifeless Negan possibly had with the guy's that had attacked him earlier on.