Bubba's Bad Day

The water from the tap dribbled out over Bubba's huge hands. The blood was taking some time to come off. But that was fine, the rest of the crew would keep any guards from coming in until he was done. Sparing a glance for the corpse of the mouthy limey, he started to whistle as he scrubbed.
The guy had been a royal pain in the ass on his first day in. Damn psychopath had shredded his girl on a street or somesuch. Kept going on about how he wasn't meant to be in New York, how he'd been a London boy born and bred and never left. Well fuck that fool, anyone who doesn't respect Bubba's need to eat their food doesn't get to keep breathing. Prick had even been given two warnings, one more than normal on account of his being a limey, keeping up relations and all.
Then last night the stupid fuck had bumped into him on the stairs and not stopped to grovel his apologies. Somehow he still thought he was the big everything.
Well, a shiv through the ribs and into his measly little heart had put paid to that idea, and ended any others he might ever have had.
As he shut the water off, Bubba turned for a last look at the fool. His eyes widened in utter shock as the guy was stood there staring pure hatred in his direction.
"I get launched across the world. The best little cocksucker I ever found who also liked it up her arse explodes all over one of my best suits. You Yankee fucks put me in this shithole. And then a big bald, fat black fuckstick stabs me with a fucking sharpened toothbrush? Do you know what, I've fucking had it. First I'm going to kill you, you useless skin wearing lump of shit, then I'm leaving this fucking place and taking as many as want out with me. But not you. Because you'll be dead."
Bubba's mind raced, the guy was dead, he had been sure of it. How could he have missed, it's not like this was his first stop at the kill-all-you-can eat buffet.
"Hey man, how the fuck?" But Bubba never got an answer, instead he got his own weapon returned at speed through his right eyeball. And unlike Mike, he wasn't going to stand back up after it.

Ten minutes later, six more dead cons from Bubba's gang behind him, Mike led the rest of the prison towards the main gate. Most of the guards had fled after shooting him to pieces, only to see his grinning face staring out behind a mask of blood as his shredded skin flaps sewed themselves back together and then he pointed in their direction.

One hour later, two thousand of New York's most dangerous were loose on the streets and Mike was heading to JFK. Ten thousand dollars in cash in his pocket and a fresh suit, courtesy of a lawyer who had really been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"I'm coming home." Mike muttered to himself, "I'm going to find out who sent me here and I'm going to fuck them up something chronic."
The reason behind his miraculous survival didn't bother him. He was alive, many other people weren't, that was all that counted.
Mike wasn't a nice guy before. But now immortal and angry, there wasn't a person on the planet you want to meet less in any circumstances.

Mike, he's not a pleasant guy.

Mike watched Susie totter down the stairs on her riduculous heels. Long, sharp points that she was all too willing to use on his toes to make a point.
"Hurry up, you dumb cow." he snarled. The buzz from the coke was beginning to wear off and he wanted to get into the club before taking another hitm his supply was too low to waste another line on the journey.
"Sorry babe. It's these shoes."
Mike rolled his eyes. There was always some excuse, some reason for her to hold him back, hold him down. She never realised that things should just get done, minimum of fuss, maximum enjoyment. Leaving two hours after he'd planned because she wasn't sure her shoes matched her eyes or whatever stupid fucking reason she had this time, was not conducive to his plans.
He snatched at her arm and dragged her down the last few steps "We're late. Don't argue with me, don't whinge, don't say a fucking word until I have a glass of the good stuff in my hand and am sitting down. Understand."
Susie nodded, her eyes starting to wellup with tears from his tone.
"Fuck's sake Suze. No crying either, you ain't going back to redo your eyeliner. You fuck it all up and you get to go out looking like a melting panda. Now calm the fuck down."
She nodded and dabbed at her eyes. Dave rolled his, again, before stomping out of the front door.

Two hours later, everything was just that much better. He'd drunk and snorted his way to a happy place, was sat on a very comfortable sofa in the club and Susie was dancing in front of him. Her tight arse and pert tits wiggling just inches from him. Once again he reminded himself that she wasn't all that much trouble and the wild screaming monkey fucking she could perform was worth it.
Toby slid up next to him "Your bird's a bit tasty. How come I've never seen her before?"
Mike turned a glare on Toby "You've met her at least five tomes you doped out cunt. Now what the fuck do you think you are doing, disturbing me?"
Toby scratched at himself nervously "I was wondering if maybe I could nab a line or two off you. Just to keep me happy like."
"Why would I want to keep you happy?"
Toby looked at him confused "We're mates, ain't we? Mates share." At the last comment Toby's eyes slid back to Susie who just pirouetting in front of them.
Mike laughed out loud, Toby joined in, sycophantically, unsure as to why he was even laughing, Mike was sure of that. When he stopped and looked at the giggling prick beside him, Mike's eyes narrowed. He reached out and grabbed a handful of hair, yanking Toby's head back painfully.
"Now listen to me. I'm not your friend. You work with me and you still owe me money. So no, I don't have a line you can nab. And if you look at my girlfriend like that again, I'll pluck your eyes from their sockets and force feed them to you." Mike flung him forwards "Now get the fuck away from me."
Toby almost launched himself from the sofa and shoved his way through the dancing crowd before him. This time Mike roared with genuine amusement.
Susie slid on to his lap "What's so funny?"
He slid his hand along her thigh "Nothing honey. Just a bit of fun."

The DJ had begun the wind down when they got up to leave. Mike had his hand on Susie's tight arse and was whispering dirty things into her ear as they stepped through the door.

The bright light assailed his eyes, temporarily blinding him. Something wet dripped down his face. "Ah fuck. What cunt threw shit on me?"
He rubbed his eyes, trying to get better vision, wondering that they had stayed in the club past daylight when a voice yelled "Get your fuckin' hands up, buddy! Don't make me shoot ya!"
Mike rubbed his eyes again, that wasn't a London accent, that was a Yank. What the fuck was some Yankee twat doing trying to rob him on his own turf?
"Fuck off." He said.
"Jesus, it's a fucking Limey."
Mike blinked repeatedly, eyes starting to focus again. "Of course I'm a Limey. This is England you prick."
"Oh, a funny guy. Hands in the air, get them up."
Mike was beginning to be annoyed, both by the Yanks annoying voice and the wetness sliding down his cheek. "Susie, where the fuck are you girl?"
"That's it." Mike heard footsteps and a blue blur came before him. Sudden blows to his gut and the back of his knees dropped him to the floor.
"What the fuck?"
"Shut up. Just shut up, pal."
Strong hands yanked his arms behind his back and he felt handcuffs slipped around his wrists. "I'm being arrested by a Yank? What the hell is going on here?"
Finally his vision cleared from blurry to mostly clear. As he looked up, he saw a man in uniform pointing a gun at him. It wasn't an English cop uniform, he'd seen it before though, on various TV shows. "What are two New York cops doing arresting me?"
"For being a sick fuck."
Mike turned to look up at the officer putting the cuffs on him and then saw the city behind him. He wasn't in London. This wasn't the exit to Club Daiklo. He started to struggle before his eyes lit upon the shredded remains of Susie's dress, surrounded by red and purple lumps of flesh, it looked like she'd exploded. Suddenly he realised what all the damp and soft stuff clinging to him was, he was covered in Susie!
Mike screamed "What the fuck happened? Where the fuck? Why am I in New York?" He started thrashing around and the cop above him slammed the baton into his back, Mike screamed and stopped struggling.
"I don't know why you were here, but I know why you're gonna stay. Murder. Welcome to America, fuckstick."
The cops dragged the wheezing Mike to his feet. He tried to protest, to tell them it wasn't him, but they were having none of it.
They put him in their car and drove away. As they went, Mike slumped in the back seat. How had this happened? He hadn't been that out of it. Into New ork traffic they drove, and every passing meter scared and confused the London hard man more and more.