Down on his knees in the back alleys of Nottingham was a despicable tax collector, coughing up blood. These streets were owned by the notorious ‘Merry Men’, known for their brutal beatings and lack of sympathy. “You ain’t gettin’ none of our money, you hear me?” Screamed Lil John, blasting his foot right into his chest. “Not mine or anyone else’s from round here, ok?” This time he grabbed him by his hair and slammed his chin straight into his knee. “I-I-I’m just d-doing my j-j-job.” The scum managed to spit out, clutching his jaw. Lil John was fuming about this. If there’s one thing he hates, it was excuses. The tax collector tried to stand up and get away. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere blud.” Belted out Lil John as we swept for the broken man’s ankles, knocking him clean off his feet. “Now, let’s finish this.” He murmured whilst grabbing his Glock. Slowly and calmly, he raised it up to his forehead. He took a deep breath and then BANG! The bow flew out of his hand, landed on the cold concrete below.

Shocked, Lil John’s eyes rushed to see who was that precise a shot, and there was only one person who it could be. Robyn Hood. His boss. He was back from meeting the rival gang, ran by ‘The Sherriff’. “Are you mental?” Hood started. “That pest is our only connection to the ops. We… no, you cannot kill him.” Free from Lil John’s attention, the rat saw his chance and flung his body towards the bow positioned on the cold pavement. Without even pausing from scolding his second in command, Hood blasted the filthy man’s outstretched hand into oblivion. No one is better than Hood