Hey people, I'm currently writing something, this is what I've got so far, tell what what you all think:

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED

Bermuda: March 28th 2010

Sitting a small table all by himself, the blond haired gentleman leaned forward to have a sip from his coffee. He was smiling for his recent good luck, he came so close to death and just able to survive, yet here he was, soaking up the sun in Bermuda.
His body was covered with recent scars and had a good tan. Putting his coffee down back on its saucer he took in his surroundings, less the 10 metres was the beach, and even though it was only April, Bermuda seemed to be very busy. He lowered his Oakley sunglasses and let his ocean blue eyes take the sunlight; it felt good to be free at last. All his life he was doing what other people wanted him to do; now he was on following his own commands.
Reaching out once more, he picked up the daily newspaper and read a small article before throwing it down on the table. The man placed the glasses back into their position and scratched the stubble on his face, he couldn't be bothered shave that morning.
He stood up from the table and looked at the small café, it was made completely out of wood and painted white. He walked inside, passing two lots of couples at one table and entered the glass panel door. He walked up to the woman at the counter and smiled.
"I'd like my bill please." He told her nicely.
"Yeah sure, two black coffees wasn't it?" She asked in return as she filled another cup of coffee and assed it to a waitress. "Take this to the couple outside."
"That's the one!" He said with a devil may care smile."
"Okay that will be three dollars."
The man passed over the local currency and stepped back.
"You're not from around here are you?" She called after him.
The man turned to look at her, judging by her accent he'd say he grew up in the O.C, she was a long way from home, just like he was."
"No, I'm not," he replied honestly.
"Well seeing as you're a tourist, hey about you let me show you around town later, I get off at seven."
The woman was flirting with him, and he knew she was. He looked down at the white name tag on her purple striped shirt and smiled, he loved to grin and these days he had a lot to be happy about.
"Look here Stacey; I'm not going to be around much longer, so your offer won't be necessary, besides I'm too old for you."
The woman looked a little down, she wasn't used to rejection, and she tried to cover this by wiping her curly brown hair out of her face as her almond eyes twinkled.
"I wouldn't say you were old."
He had to laugh, this was a funny circumstance to him, he did indeed look young, always had done, where as he looks like he only entered his thirties, he was pushing forty.
"Believe me, I am too old, any way thanks for the coffee." Without another word, the extremely muscular man manoeuvred his 210 pound body out of the door and begun to walk to the beach, he wanted to feel the sun one last time.
The man removed the glasses once more and tucked them into the back pocket of his black board shorts and then pulled out a small gold key.
Standing at the beach, he felt the wind blow through his curly hair as he saw a lone sun bed. He walked over to it, moved it over to the side and begun digging until he found the mahogany box he was searching for.
Holding the key, he inserted it into the lock and unlocked it, giving him access to its contents. Inside were his two Smith & Wesson Military Police pistols, a gift from an old friend.
He picked one out and ran his hand over 114 mm barrel and inserted a magazine into it, capable of taking seventeen 9 mm bullets. He didn't want to keep them at the hotel he was staying at, thought it was too risky so he stashed them here, there was no way he could allow himself to be captured and arrested before he could execute his plan.
With the gun loaded, he inserted a clip into the second one and looked at the two guns, in the recent year they had reeked a large amount of death and destruction, he had done a lot of killing with them, but he wasn't finished yet, there were more who had to die in order to serve his cause.
Sliding them into the bag he kept in the box, he then shut the wooden object and removed the key before reburying it. Once he smoothed the sand over, he got the sun bed back in position and begun to walk along the sea front, no one was around to see what he had just been up to.
As he was walking, he stopped to lookout to the ocean, the events of the last week flashed through his head, but he quickly shook them off, only to pull out a small piece of paper. He looked down and read the three words on it, he wrote them down so when he looked at it, he could remember the person he was now and the one he used to be, but he didn't need it anymore. He scrunched it up and threw it into the water, where it floated at the surface and begun to deteriorate.
The words that were written on it were "John Herman Lewis."

Inside a small beach house, three men were assembled in the living room.
"Okay, pretend I'm a little hard of hearing and tell me again." The rugged red neck asked.
A man sitting in the straw chair got up and ran a hand threw his dark hair, he was wearing the same Hawaiian shirt he wore a week ago. "Just for you, I shall repeat it, Blue Death is dead, so is the rest of Muerte Mala."
"What!" The third man in the room stood up, compared to the others, he was much shorter and had a large round stomach with a wiry moustache.
"They're all dead?" The red neck asked as he wiped off his NY base ball cap of and rubbed his bald head.
"Yes, how many more times must I say this?" The dark haired man in the Hawaiian shirt asked.
"I just can't believe it." The moustached man was in shock.
"None of us can't Bender, we just have to deal with it."
"That's easy for you to say Captain Scarlet." Bender, the larger moustached man replies to the guy in the Hawaiian shirt.
"My name is not Captain Scarlet!"
"Oh for god's sake, not this again, moaning about your code name."
"Screw you Confederate!" Scarlet replies pathetically to the red neck.
All three of the men in the room never knew each others real name, only a single code name which was handed out personally by Blue Death. The three men were talented in their own fields, Scarlet was a pilot, Confederate was the ultimate sniper and most talented with any fire arm, where as Bender was an explosives man.
Each were brought together to run a little unit near the United States, carry out secret missions which were planned out in a whole other continent.
"So what do we do now then?" Confederate asks inquisitively as he sits in the vacant straw chair.
"I don't know, I'm not in charge am I, I'm the number 2 man aren't I?" Scarlett shrugs.
"What?" Confederate and Bender ask as one.
"I thought in Blue Death's last transmission he said you were now in charge?"
"I though so too, but when I checked the computer yesterday we were sent a new transmission, I don't know who by, but apparently there's someone else, Gruff was sending us a new division head."
Both the men look started as they gaze at the man in the Hawaiian clothing before them.
"So who's in charge now?" Confederate questions just before a window is smashed as a chair is thrown threw it and a man enters.
"I am." The voice says as he points his weapon at Bender and shoots twice.
BANG! BANG!
"What The hell did you do that for!" Confederate asks surprised as he looks up at the man he just witnessed murder another.
"Because I can!" He grins as he puts on the shades he took off earlier.
"Who are you?"
"The man who was sent here to pass on a message."
"What message?" Scarlet asks before he looks at the intruder. "Hold on..." He says in slight recognition.
Upon being recognised the man instantly aims at the read neck and fires off thrice.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The first bullet impacted in his right eye, the second went throw the nose whilst the other one went into the left eye.
"Didn't I kill you?" Scarlet asks angered.
"You tried to, but as you can see you failed." The blond gunman smiles warmly before levelling his gun out at the pilot.
"So you survived the plane crash?"
"Yep."
"How?"
"No way, I'm not revealing that, you get me monologuing and you'll try to run."
"Is it true that you're the one who took down all of us by yourself?" Scarlet quizzes.
"Yeah."
"How, how can one man bring down such a large force?"
"Because I'm Lewis."
"Yeah, yes you are Lewis, the man that many have tried to kill in these last 14 years but all have failed."
"That's me." John Lewis answers honestly.
"How do you do it? How do you always survive?"
"Because I'm great at what I do." Lewis asks, the whole time he speaks he just keeps his gun trained at the pilot.
"Why are you keeping me alive?"
"I'm not." He replies coolly.
"Yes you are, I'm still breathing."
"No, the moment you tried to kill me you were a dead man, no scrape that the second I read your name on that document you were already buried. You're just on borrowed time mate." Lewis smiles slightly as his nostrils flare and he rubs the rigger with his index finger.
"So what is it that you want to know?"
"I want to know how come you thought you were smart enough to kill me during that plane crash?"
"I'll never tell you." He spits.
"I was hoping you'd say that, that's why I brought this." Lewis uses his left hand to reach for his concealed dagger, which he then holds up for Scarlet to see. "This isn't as good as my old one, but it'll do."
"Oh wow a knife, I'm scared."
"You should be." Without hesitation Lewis fires once more.
BANG!
The bullet struck the pilot just above the collar bone.
"Does it hurt?" He asks faking concern.
"Whatever." The pilot counters before trying to make a run for it, bolting to the left and running straight for the broken window and diving through it onto the veranda before taking off across the beach.
"I love it when they run." Lewis chuckles as he walks over to the window and watches the man run. "Ah, 50 metres that's far enough."
He takes his aim carefully and fires once more.
BANG!
The bullet struck the pilot in his left ankle, causing him to go down faster then a rocket being blasted into space.
Impacting on the sand Scarlet was withering around in pain screaming loudly but fortunately for Lewis, there was no one to hear his screams, so as Scarlet struggled to stand as Lewis walked casually over.
"See what happens when you try to run, you end up worse off!" Lewis stands the guy up before he begins to walk him back to the house.
"I hate you!"
"Sure you do, now if you continue to refuse to tell me what I want to know, then I will have no other option but to cause you some major agony as I shall continue to shoot you, then use my knife, carve into your skin and get the bullets out myself.
"How do you sleep at night?"
"I see the faces off all those I've killed, and then I think about all the lives I've saved and then sleep peacefully."
"You're a killer, always were and always will be." Scarlet grunts as Lewis lifts him through the broken window and throws him onto the floor.
"So going to tell me why you tried to kill me during my little flight?" Lewis asks, holding the gun aimed at the pilots abdomen.
"Go to hell!"
"I will when I'm dead, but while I'm still here I've got my job to do."
"You Deepwater people, you're all the same. Think your so high and mighty."
"How do you know about Deepwater?"
"It's not that great a secret, your buddy boy Jacques told us everything."
Lewis flashed back, Jason Jacques was his childhood best friend, they both served together in the navy, until one day he died in an explosion aboard a submarine underwater, Lewis told Jacques everything.
"You know what, I don't need to know why you tried to kill me with that plane crash, what's the point, the more we talk the more chance you have of someone coming along and discovering this place. Life is full of mysteries, I don't need to know why you tried to kill me, I never ask the other people who fail. Goodbye." Lewis raises the gun to the head.
"Wait!"
"Oh now you want to talk."
"Yes." He pleas.
"Too late." Lewis tone was full of murderous intent as he pulled the trigger once more.
BANG!
The bullet exploded through his cranium, spreading blood and brain matter on the wooden panels underneath his body.
"Man I hate murder." Lewis sighs as he walks over to an empty chair and collapses in it. "Such a dirty affair but someone's got to do it."
As he sits in the chair, his phone begins to ring.
"Hello?" He answers.
"Phoenix, is it done? The little Bermuda problem?" A voice on the other side asks.
"Yes sir, it's done, Muerte Mala is well and truly finished." Lewis replies.
"Well then, I guess you know what that means?" The voice asks before hanging up.
"Yes I do know what it means sir, it means it is time for me to come home." He smiles at this thought, he had missed his noble UK, loved every moment he spent there, it had been a while since he was last there, but the more he thought about the UK, he began to think of his sister, one of the women he had truly loved, even his son, he son he wasn't allowed to know for his line of work wouldn't allow it.
"I guess it's time I tidied up." He says, standing erect as he tucks the gun away and begins walking over to the first body of Confederate and begun slashing away at the body, carving and tearing into it.
When he was done there, he went over to the one known as Bender and began slashing him.
"Get bent!" He said to know one in particular, he just wanted to lighten the mood.
When he had slashed the two bodies, he began on the last one, slicing the bullets out and tossing them aside before he then carved a huge gaping whole in the stomach and slit the wrists, letting all the blood spool out.
"Ah, been a while since I last saw this much blood." He says, stepping back so he didn't get any of the dark ruby liquid on his fresh new boots.
"If someone were to approach me 20 years ago and tell me that I'd become one of the best assassins on this planet, I wouldn't have believed them. It's amazing how much revenge and murder can change someone."
Lewis looked down at the blood, it was ideal for something that just popped into his head, he would write a message on the wall, so he placed his hand in the blood and got writing.
Twenty minutes later, when he was down, Lewis stepped out of the house and stepped of the porch, he knew there was a tank of petrol hidden in a shed nearby, he could easily torch the place and the bodies inside it, but his mission wasn't to destroy all evidence, everything had to be found, seen by the world, it was part of the plan, his boss's plan.
Lewis just stood on the sand, feeling the wind blow through his hair, his seven year mission was finally over, but his career with Deepwater still required him, he wanted so much to get out of the game but he realised a long time ago that this is his life, there is nothing else for him, he'll be stuck doing this till the day he died and in his line or work, everyday is treated as if it's his last.
"You're in the army now, oh whoa oh, you're in the army, now." He began to sing as he turned round and started to walk off, his contract in Bermuda was over and it was time for the Phoenix to spread his wings and return to the coop.
As Lewis continued to walk he looks down and slides his beloved pistol out, he pulls the slide back and looks at the bullet in the chamber before he turns to gaze at the sun.
"I'm getting too old for this shit!" He states as he discharges the gun once more.
BANG!