Snake pushed open the door in quiet determination. This was one more gunfight but not Bangkok style. Western style, it was far more deadly. That was no deterrent to Plissken. He was out for the thrill, the money and this would be good for his reputation. He stepped in scanning the bar. His eye fell on the back door and as if on cue the jukebox started. He eye shifted slowly to the long, leggy blond that was turning from the neon.

(Ooh yeah)
I've been to the left, I've been to the right
I've found myself in Abudhabi, just a mirage in the night
Been to the high, I've been to the low
And I've been to lots of places that I didn't wanna go
But I ain't see nothing to get me off my ass
And I laughed at all the jokers wanna make me walk on glass
I could walk 'fore I could crawl
And I was meaner than a bad dog with his back against the wall

Snake smiled at the music. Been awhile since he'd heard any and this was quite appropriate for his mood.

"It's Plissken."

The whisper tore his eye from the approaching woman. Three men were staring in his direction. Snake made right for them glaring his disapproval. Men scurried from his way. That was just as well. He was focused and in no mood to be messed with. His eye tracked them to the dark then shifted forward just in time to see the woman following.

He pushed straight to the bookie table and slapped a stack of bills onto the table.

"I'm in for the next round." Plissken's words were cool and strong, cutting the noise of the bar that stretched out behind him.

"The contest is closed." The mousey little man answered without glancing up from the money we was counting. Snake knew he was lying. Contests were always open until the judge closed it.

"Bullshit!" Snake growled.

"It's closed." The bookie finally looked up. Plissken grinned watching his eyes go wide. "I…I… We have room in the next round."

"Good" Snake smiled. "I'm in for 6,000."

Animal, animal
Cannibal, cannibal
See 'em fall, see 'em fall
I'm the guy that they call –
Meanstreak, I gotta meanstreak
Meanstreak, they call me meanstreak

Plissken left the money on the table and pushed his way past the people who'd gathered to stare at him. The door was a plain barren grey and held the noise that Plissken knew was beyond. The door gave way to the usual scene. The room was packed to the brim with people on the near side. The smoke and cheering was separated from the far side by thick, stolen, bulletproof glass. The gunfire had calmed and with it the cheering.

There was a winner. He would go on to the next round. Plissken took in the first of his opponents. The man was drunk. Snake sighed. He could use a drink but it was too late. There'd be time for that after.

Plissken stepped into the circle of men. He was relaxed and scrutinized each of them while the judge droned on about the rules. Some were drunk, some were scared but two standing opposite were confident. Those would be the first to kill.

"Place your weapons on the table."

Snake stepped forward and placed his guns on the table but his eye was on the others. How they laid their guns down could tell a lot. Which hand they used and how comfortable they were. The same two caught his eye.

Plissken stepped back to the crude circle drawn on the floor. His eye shifted from the two across from him on the circle before settling intently on the judge. Snake tensed, insides coiling to a tight spring as he watched for the signal. The man continued to talk. "Shut up" Plissken was getting furious with the stall. Suddenly the glass dropped from his hand.

Plissken's eye narrowed and he leaped for the table. His hands hit his guns and clenched tight. Snake dropped under the table. Feet were close, others were about to grab weapons. Survival mode kicked Plissken into motion. He turned pushing his back into the table spilling it over toward the two men Plissken had been watching.

His eye came up to see the side of a head. Gunshots were starting. Someone else had a gun. Snake pushed his barrel to the head in front of him and pulled the trigger. Snake had already forgotten the man who would be dead in a second. His other gun was coming around over the edge of the upset table. Three guns were up. Snake took aim at another man dual wielding. He was the most dangerous by Plissken's standards and first to go. Splinters showered from the edge of the table just as Snake pulled the trigger.

The wolf grinned gunfighter had his gun on Snake. Plissken hurriedly holstered his guns. A bullet came through the table right in front of him. He spun and appeared outside, grabbed the legs of the table and hurled it at his adversary. Cheers erupted as the man dodged the shower of splintered pieces. It wouldn't save him.

Snake drew again leveling the guns. The second bullet caught him in the leg and his opponent went down. Guns skittered away across the packed, dirt floor. Plissken didn't hesitate and moved in for the kill. He had no mercy here inside the ring. His gun came up and instantly something wrapped around his throat. Snake choked dropping his guns to grab for the bandana choking the life from him. The momentary panic was superseded by long practiced killer instincts. Plissken brought his head forward and slammed it back with all of his strength.

The world went hazy white to Snake but the bandana fell away with the man whose face streamed blood. He'd momentarily forgotten his other opponent as he grabbed the strangler's head and yanked. The crack sounded but even over the cheers Plissken heard the telltale cock of his revolver's hammer. The bastard was turning his own guns on him. Snake pulled the man up and turned using the lifeless body as a shield. Blood sprayed into his face as Plissken backed away.

He stepped on something hard and glanced down to see a gun under his foot. His eye came up to see the man bearing down on him.

"No escape this time Snake!" There was a sarcastic spit to his adversary's words. One that spoke of overconfidence. Snake watched him deftly hooking the spikes on the toe of his boot through the trigger guard of the gun on the ground.

Plissken forced the gunfighter to keep eye contact diverting his attention from the gun Snake was lifting cautiously with his foot. Plissken reached down and coiled his hand around the pummel. His feet set squarely on the ground as he stared down the man just beyond his reach.

"It's time to die." The man stated as he raised the gun at Plissken's head. Snake brought the gun around the side of the dead competitor. The wide-eyed expression of the man with his guns in hand was a telltale sign he realized it was too late to stop the inevitable. Plissken opened fire watching his guns slip from the bastard's hands as his body danced under the control of the automatic handgun in Plissken's possession.

Snake dropped the body he held and glared down at the gunfighter who'd dared to touch his revolvers. Silence filled the arena as Plissken bent down to retrieve his revolvers.

"Never fucking touch my guns." Snake whispered coldly to the corpse as he wiped the blood from his guns on the man's shirt. He looked up holstering his weapons and the crowd erupted into noise. Snake had just made enough money to keep him for a good month or more and smiled as he stepped over the bodies to exit the fighting circle. He didn't care who they were he only wanted his pay that he was now intent on collecting.