"Who was he?"

Big Joe didn't turn. Kept his gaze on the open eyes on the corpse on the floor. "Nobody."

Didn't look like nobody to James. But he didn't say shit. There was a sign on the wall.

James could only assume the man was Butch. But who knew. The man might've been an employee. Butch might've been the owner. Elsewhere.  Fishing or something. Maybe retired and now didn't even work at the bar. The fact was James didn't know shit who they'd shot. Big Joe hadn't uttered a word.

Butch didn't get a word in either. Just a gasp. Not 

English

. Not verbal language at all. Pure primitive.

James never thought about pulling the trigger. It was like going through the motions. As soon as he saw Big Joe's beretta fire, he felt his own finger squeeze his Glock 17.

The shots came muffled as can be through 

earplugs

. Big Joe swore by them. Said if you were in this business long enough you'd need to wear them while doing a job.

"That is if you do want to be in this business long enough. If you wanna be dumb, get drunk with your high school pals. And tell them what we really do, then you don't have to wear them. You won't live long enough to lose your hearing."

That's what Big Joe had said back at James' apartment. Before he had 'convinced' James into shooting Chad. This was after the first shot. The one that grazed Chad's shoulder. The convincing was to get James to try again.

The till was on the left. James knew this. He didn't remember where he'd heard it. Words that repeated in his thoughts. Big Joe didn't have to say anything for him to go and grab it.

Inside were a lot of receipts. A big of 

cash

. But not much. On first glance James figured there might be a few hundred. Nothing worth shooting a man for. Or two men. James was grabbing the cash when Big Joe stepped up. He didn't even need to touch James. Instead James felt the presence of Big Joe beside him causing a force. Big Joe reached down, threw the cash on the ground. And lifted the tray. Underneath were four USB drives. He took a quick look at them. A quick yet deliberate look. And then he pocked them and walked towards the exit.

James scavanged the cash. Dropped a few twenties. Bent over to try grabbing it again. But then decided not to. For some reason the cash didn't beckon. Instead he stuffed whatever he had in his pocked and headed towards the exit.