The gang turned in mass to look at the speaker who had approached out of seemingly nowhere to stand but twenty feet from them. He was on the slim side and wasn't very tall standing only about 5'6'', but it was how he was dressed that was eye catching in an odd way. He had a sharply creased fedora reminiscent of the gangster era of Hollywood on his head accompanied by a matching Dick Tracy rain coat. The outdated outfit was a little too ridiculous to take the individual wearing it seriously, but there was something about the smaller man that said seriousness was written all over him.
The gang leader spoke up, as he lifted his gun toward the stranger. "What's a little white funky dude like you interrupting our date with the half-breed chick for? I'm gonna plug you right where you stand white boy!"
The stranger tipped back his hat a little to reveal a pair of cold slate grey eyes and then coolly said, "You have five seconds to drop your guns and leave this place alive. I won't warn you again." As he finished speaking the man's hands tucked the ends of the raincoat behind him partially revealing two low slung shoulder holsters packed with what looked like .45 caliber automatics from the same era as his clothes.
The gang members looked at each other as if to say 'Is this guy for real?', and then dissolved into laughter, as they all started to draw their pistols. They were too late.
I had been mentally counting down the five seconds. Their time was up. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. One moment his hands had been at his sides and then they were holding the automatics, as fire belched out of them repeatedly. There had been eight gang members and there were eight shots, every one of them a head shot. It had taken less than a couple of seconds for the little man to clear the loading area.
He stepped over the bodies as he came up to me. He glanced at the pipe I still gripped in my hands and I saw the corners of his mouth twitch. "The classic lead pipe was, no doubt, a lethal weapon, when wielded by the likes of Mrs. Plum or Scarlet, but the modern age calls for something a little more speed oriented I think."
He had holstered one pistol as he had approached and he reached behind his back with the now free hand to pull out a nine millimeter, which he offered to me. The little man had a point. I dropped the pipe and took the offered pistol, instantly feeling better.