5

Nairo had stiffened but, to her credit, in Ridley's book, she looked unperturbed. Slowly, Ridley swivelled on his stool and faced the bulk behind the fist. He found himself looking at two furry grey boulders. He lifted his head back and squinted at the misshapen, lumped up, bovine face of the heavy. He had one long curved horn, the other was jagged and broken, and the outrageous scars that ran the length of his snout let Ridley know whoever did it didn’t suffer from an oxygen dependency for too much longer. But his eyes were more terrifying than the scars. They were wide, almost to the point of constant derangement, and a sickly yellow colour. He had an erratic tick and a habit of blinking one eye at a time that rounded off the psychopathic motif his face had chosen.

“Well there's so much of yer back I couldn't help it.” Ridley offered a weak smile and half a shrug.

“That's funny,” the Minotaur snorted, his left eye closed, opened, then the right one twitched shut. “You wanna see how funny you'll look smiling with no teef.” He raised his meaty fist, Nairo drew a sharp breath, ready to jump, Ridley winced in anticipation, then there was the heavy thunk of a safety latch being released..

“Now now Bull, I don’t want no trouble in 'ere.” The plump little Gnome suddenly looked far more menacing with a crossbow in his hands. “Just had the chandeliers cleaned,” he offered as an apology.

The tension in the room had reached breaking point. The second someone pulled a weapon things would either peter out in a cloud of awkward shuffling and muttered oaths of vengeance, or they exploded.

“Put it away Carl,” the Bull grunted. He hadn’t lowered his fist, but neither had he turned Ridley's dentures to dust.

“Yeah put it away Carl,” Ridley said, not entirely confident in the way the crossbow shook in Carl’s sweaty hands.

“No, I will not put it away, and don’t move or I'll shoot,” he squawked.

Out of the corner of his eye Ridley saw Nairo’s chest puff up and a look of righteous indignation cross her face. Before he could stop her, she stood up and turned to Carl.

“I am Sergeant Nairo of the ___ Police Department. Carl that is a Class Two prohibited firearm and concealment of such a weapon is not only illegal but highly frowned upon.” She shook her head in disappointment at Carl's behaviour before rounding on The Bull. “And as for you...”

Ridley gave a silent inward groan and closed his eyes, enjoying the final seconds of peace before pandemonium broke out.

“Youse a copper?” the Bull said as he cocked his massive head in confusion.

“You bought a copper in here Ridley?” Carl almost fell off his perch.

“A copper?” said an incredulous voice from the back of the room.

“Wasn't me!” cried another suddenly.

“Is this a set up!?” The Bull growled, taking a menacing step towards Ridley.

“I'm innocent!” The cries were getting rowdier.

“Bloody pig!”

“Oi what you got against pigs?”

“I'm innocent!” barked another.

“ 'E did it!”

“Oi no I didn’t!”

That was it. The tinkling smash of glass. The universal sign that civility had gone out the window, along with a saggy gnome. Ridley was unsure what hit him first, The Bull or the bartender. He heard the twang of the crossbow followed only a second later by the sick crunch of the Bull's fist smashing into his face. At that range the crossbow bolt went straight through the fleshy part of Ridley's shoulder, exploding out the other side straight in the Bull's leg. Carl tumbled off his stoop with the kickback from the massive crossbow. The formerly sullen drinkers had erupted into a mass of fists, knees and broken furniture. They tumbled and smashed into one another, dissolving into a ball of cursing and violence. The punch had sent Ridley off his stool, his shoulder oozing blood as he hit the spongy carpet. He wanted to cry out in pain, but his face had frozen from the impact of the blow, his whole jaw jarred into paralysis. But Ridley hadn’t lived this long in the grime by not being able to take a hit. His vision uncrossed enough for him to see the Bull roaring in pain, his ham sized fist curled around the bolt in his leg. With a snarl, he yanked it out, spraying blood across the carpet. Ridley scrambled across the carpet as the Bull advanced on him. He slipped the hand of his good arm into his coat, scrabbling for his brass knuckles.

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Nairo was there first however, she stood legs akimbo protectively over Ridley's fallen body. The Bull swatted at her, but he was slow and obvious. She ducked under his clumsy attack, let him stumble a step, then drove her knee straight into the open wound in his leg. The Bull howled as he stumbled backwards clutching at his thigh where he was swept into the general melee of brawling punters. Nairo grabbed Ridley and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled uncertainly, blood dripping from his mouth and shoulder.

“You alright?” Nairo asked him as she held him up.

The Bull tried to extract himself, swinging boulder like fists at anything that twitched.

Ridley pushed Nairo out of the way and charged at the Bull.

“You ripped my coat!” he howled at the Bull as he dove into the melee.

In all his years Ridley had never understood the idea of fighting 'clean'. After all, once one has shown their intention to beat you to a bloody pulp, the how is somewhat superfluous. Ridley feinted to the left, then chucked a foot straight between the Bull's leg's before following with an elbow to his wounded thigh. Nairo came running up behind him but was caught by one of the Bull's flailing limbs. She skittered across the pub, almost getting trampled by a pack of scuffling drinkers, around who, one defiant wino crawled across the floor shielding his pint. There was another smash of a window. The crash of furniture and flying barstools added to the crescendoing violence.

When Nairo had regained her bearings and looked up, she realised it was Ridley who had been thrown through the window. The Bull hurled himself out of the remains of the glass in pursuit. Nairo jumped back to her feet hastily making for the hole in the wall. The rumble had increased by at least double its original size. She could have sworn she saw eager-faced creatures run into the pub with the express wish of partaking in some harmless, mid-morning, violence and bloodshed. She fought her way through, trying to channel her training, and use only academy approved strikes. When she stumbled outside she was met by an almost, if it wasn’t for the murderous intent behind it, comical sight. The Bull was limping badly now; his wounded limb barely able to take his massive weight. Frothing at the mouth, his chest heaving, he waved a fist as he chased Ridley, who was clutching his shoulder and wandering around in circles. They both spat curses and insults at each other, Ridley stopped occasionally to aim a kick at the Bull's family jewels. After one poorly aimed kick, Ridley stumbled and the Bull finally caught him. He grabbed him by the tail of his coat and whipped the PI round like a soaked towel. Nairo lunged in and sliced two hard strikes at The Bull's thick neck, only succeeding in annoying him. Ridley made a wet noise as he slapped against the wall and he slid down into a heap groaning. Nairo continued to duck the Bull's awkward one-legged lunges, luring him away from Ridley.

“I really must insist you desist with this behaviour, the charges against you are mounting disconcertingly high!”

“Shurrup!” the Bull snorted, throwing his big head left and right in fury.

Nairo misstepped once, moving forward when she should have dodged back. The Bull’s face contorted with predatory malice as he finally pulled the pesky copper into his clutches. Nairo wriggled and kicked at the massive Minotaur trying futilely to extricate herself. The smell of the Bull was overpowering, like a gym in a barnyard, his froth dripped onto her clothes, his grip bone crushing.

“I got you now, little piglet! I’m gonna snap you into a little bitty piece! Turn your organs into paste!. Pop them pretty little eyes outta yore head! I'm gonna rip your face off and sew it to ya...”

Nairo kicked out and caught him in the now dark purple arrow wound. He roared and she fought to free herself. She dug her heels into his stomach and pushed with all her strength. His grip went slack for a moment and she almost slipped free. He grabbed her by the back of her shirt and slammed her against the wall, once, twice, the third time she had stopped wriggling, the fourth was just for the satisfaction. Nairo went limp.

Ridley, meanwhile, had been quietly fighting the battle to become vertical, succeeding only with the help of his former enemy the brick wall. Victorious, he stumbled forward, his body broken and unresponsive, but his mind was too stubborn for such a minor inconvenience. Ridley stumbled at the Bull, throwing a weak punch at his granite mid section while trying to pull Nairo from his crushing grip. The Bull snarled and snatched Ridley up in his free hand, lifting him off the ground, spittle dripping from his chops, his eyes bugged, swivelling insanely.

“I'm gonna turn youse into a meat bag sandwich and smash yer bones to...”

“Pocket Sand!” Ridley cried.

From his pocket he flung a fistful of what looked like sand into the Bull's eyes. The Bull snarled and hurled both of them in different directions, his rocky fingers clawed at his eyes as he spat grit out of his mouth.

“I'll kill you! You puny little...”

THUNK!

The Bull's face froze. Ridley swung the wooden beam again, grunting with all his effort through the pain of his ruined shoulder. It bounced off the Bull's thick knotted skull, the hollow echoing ringing across the alleyway. It took two more swings before he finally crumpled to his knees. He turned his battered head towards Ridley only to get a snout full of wood. Slowly, the gargantuan beast slumped backwards, his head hit the cobbles hard enough to bounce. Ridley could barely hold his skinny, battered frame straight; the plank fell from his nerveless grip.

“Bullseye,” Ridley muttered thickly through his swollen jaw.

“That was terrible.” Nairo grimaced, her legs shaking under her weight, her face a pallid unhealthy white.

Ridley didn’t get a chance to respond. He collapsed next to the Bull, dark oblivion gave him respite from pain... briefly.