I get a text on my phone. It’s Dirty Diamond again. Apparently, they had another gig, and they were checking in on me-I hadn’t followed up since I told them I was gonna be out for a while. At first, they were going to have this gig at the Grumpy Mug, but our performance at the Keel-Bridge was so good that they apparently wanted us to come back- bad enough to get into a bidding war and win.
Part of me still wasn’t quite in the mood for another gig, but on the whole I was actually more than happy to get an opportunity to be back with the rest of the gang and lose myself in yet another performance.
I send them a response before going to my bag, the one that I had brought with me to Halych on the very first day, pulling out a fox mask. It was a relic of my past, but one I didn’t mind recalling. It was made of painted wood, with a thick strap around the back. I put it in a smaller bag I had acquired recently, throwing it on my back and heading out to the Keel-Bridge.
I eventually arrive at the Keel-Bridge with my mask on and my sling bag on my back. Walking to the parking area, I couldn’t help but notice a row of 5 motorcycles parked right next to each other. I walk over to the van and it’s parked two spaces from where it was the last time I was here. I find Teller, Nork, and Felch hanging by the van.
“Well, well, boys, were you waiting for me to help you do the lifting?”
“Heeeey, June! How you been holding up since that… unspecified injury of yours?”
“Glad to see you’re actually concerned about me. Well, I’ve recovered, it honestly wasn’t quite as bad as I thought it was.” I couldn’t tell, but maybe I was blushing a little that the other guys actually cared about me.
Nork crossed his arms, raising a brow. “Unspecified, Teller? Looks pretty obvious to me that she got turned into Twoface or some shit and she’s using that fancy mask to hide it, like… Darth Vader.” Teller doubled over into a volley of incredulous laughter, soon followed by Felch doing more or less the same, holding his hat up with one of his hands. Nork chuckled, but I could see the kind of smile on him that made me think he didn’t take his own accusation very seriously. I let myself laugh shortly, before regaining my composure.
“Yeah, about that...” I move my mask to the side of my head. “I’m actually fine. I just got my head hit at one point, it apparently wasn’t quite as hard as I had initially thought, but it was pretty bad. I’m fine now, though.”
Felch quickly looks over. “Oh shit, you didn’t forget your lines, did you!?”
“Nah, I got ‘em all down.” I slide the mask back onto my face. I never thought I’d really be using it again. “Same track list as before, right?”
“Yeah, more or less. Nothing new to have to learn super quick.”
“Cool. Anyway, I’m serious, were you waiting for me to come and help with the lifting?”
“Nah, we decided to come a little earlier and be professional, since now we’ve kind of got a thing going with the Keel-Bridge.”
Teller crossed his arms, looking over to Felch. “Dude, I almost can’t believe it. There’s a bar that actually likes us enough to let us come back for another performance. That, like, never happens!” As he finished, Teller uncrossed his arms, looking almost astonished at Dirty Diamond’s recent luck.
Nork let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, we usually have to give ‘em a month or two to forget us first.”
“Sounds to me like we’ve finally made friends, but… why?”
“We’re finally getting some actual media coverage, from what I’ve seen. Maybe I should bring up getting into social media advertising with Sard.” Teller looks between the others, and then back to me. “Speaking of which, you don’t have a stage name. What’s it gonna be?”
“I… actually haven’t considered that much, come to think of it, but I’m definitely going to need a stage name going forward. How about… Wick?”
“Actually, that’s not so bad.” Nork and Felch nodded, agreeing with Teller.
“Then I guess it’s settled. My stage name is Wick now.” I look around, not seeing Sard anywhere in my immediate vicinity. “I guess Sard isn’t following along with you guys showing up earlier?”
“Yeah. That’s just Sard for ya, though.”
“Too true, Teller.” Felch shakes his head. “Dude just never changes, does he?”
“Anyway, you guys wanna do sound check early as well?”
“Well, shit, why not?”
We head in through the side door as usual, heading up the backstage as I find that all the equipment was in place. We take our spots as I hear the others play isolated notes on their instruments, making sure everything worked with regards to how the speakers output the sounds. The ambient noise of the crowd, already muffled by the curtains, quiets slightly in response, but soon returns to its normal noise as they get used to the sound check. Meanwhile, my thoughts unknowingly drift back towards the hideout raid that transpired several days ago, pulling my focus away from the stage.
Time passes, and eventually Sard steps in through the side door, walking up to the stage. “So, how we looking today?”
“Well, we’re looking all clear from here, chief. Also, she was able to make it, so no need for the backups to get involved.” Teller gestures in my direction. “Also, her stage name is now Wick.”
“Really?” Sard looks over to me, putting both hands behind his back. “Oh, great, she’s got a gimmick as well as a stage name.”
“As if your entire persona isn’t already a gimmick in itself.”
Nork laughs, and Teller and Felch smile, though clearly trying to hide it from Sard, who rolls his eyes. “I guess you’d have to try and bully me if you didn’t have any natural charisma of your own. Pathetic.”
“Admit it, Sard.” Felch crosses his arms. “We wouldn’t have blown up quite as much as we did on Twitter if Wick didn’t roast you on stage the other night. That shit was pretty good for our social media presence, really got some views in.” I blink. I guess I really was the reason Dirty Diamond was doing so well recently.
Sard sighed. “Okay, I guess you have a point. I’ll put up with her shit, for the good of the band.”
“Just like how you keep showing up later than everyone else, for the good of the band?” Nork rose an eyebrow.
“This time, I was taking some time out to chat up the manager some. I think he’s making a serious bet on us significantly increasing the Keel-Bridge’s foot traffic. We might even become a real tourist attraction if we keep this up!”
“If we could stick the landing on that, we could become a big deal quite quickly.” Teller nodded in approval. I check my watch, and it’s almost showtime.
“Yeah. Now, let’s get started… and buckle in for a three-hour session.”
Sard takes the mic up front, getting in position. “You may recall our newest member last session. She’s now known as Wick. Kind of a fitting name, because I’m wondering just how long it’ll take for her flame to burn out on us all.”
“From where I’m looking, Sard, it sounds more like you need to try and keep up with me.” This got a reaction from the crowd, a positive one at that.
“Oh, whatever.” Sard almost whined at this point. “Let’s get started. This is Dirty Diamond, and we’re here for a second round with our friends at the Keel-Bridge!” The curtains open. I almost couldn’t believe it; there were people already setting aside the tables in the middle to make room for a moshpit before the music had even begun, and I had the feeling that several of the people still sitting in booth seats were more concerned about us than with drinking alongside their friends. It was almost a breathtaking sight, and it helped me forget my personal problems. The performance then started, and I put myself into my performance as usual, still wearing my fox mask. Sure enough, the movement of tables out of the floor immediately in front of the stage only accelerated, a moshpit forming even quicker than before. I also couldn’t help but notice that the bar as a whole was more crowded than before. As far as I could see now, maybe there really was something to the idea of the Keel-Bridge using us to generate more foot traffic.
The performance goes well, and it seems like we’re received even better than usual. Sard barely stops to size up the crowd before triumphantly deciding that we’ll be going for a third hour, and the same fatigue we felt from before set in, though this time we all seemed a little more used to it than before. By the end, I could tell the entire group was glad both to have such a captive audience and to finally be able to relax after another three-hour performance. “It’s been great tonight, thank you all for making this a possibility! We may have just found our new home after all...” The crowd reacts positively, as the curtains finally close. I help Nork haul a speaker out as I notice that-for once-Sard actually ends up helping out with the pack-up phase. Well, he only ends up carrying out one mic kit with him, with a tip bucket in the other hand. “I’ll be off to collect our cut of the cover charge.” Sard walks off with the tip jar in hand, as I turn to the others after setting the speaker back in the van with Nork.
Nork turns around to address Teller and Felch, who are walking to the van with their guitars in hand. “Holy shit, Sard actually hauled some of the equipment for once!”
“Really?” Teller raises an eyebrow. “I’m starting to think Wick arriving is an actual goddamned miracle.” Teller chuckles, and Felch rolls his eyes with a smile.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Teller.” I raise a brow. “It was just a mic kit, after all.”
Teller lets out an exasperated sigh, as Felch almost doubles over laughing. “Fucking figures, man. I practically called that in my head!”
Teller turns to Felch, shaking his head slowly. “Well, shit, at least I can dream.” This got a chuckle out of Nork as Teller puts his guitar case inside the van, turning around and making for the bar again. “C’mon, Nork, we still need to go get a speaker.” I let out a chuckle almost reflexively as Felch laughs again. Nork follows behind him as they enter the building. Felch follows me along into the building after he finishes laughing and gets his guitar into the van. I end up packing up another mic kit and Felch handles the rest of the cables, as we head back outside to see Sard walking over with a bucket full of money.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Even more money than before!” While the tip bucket looked impressive, the stack of cash Sard pulled out looked even more impressive, we all watch him count the money, as I see them barely contain their excitement at what kind of haul a wonderful night like this could bring to the table for us all. Once he’s done, Sard whistles. “Eight fuckin’ hundred dollars. I can’t believe it.” He recounts the money just to be sure as Teller, Nork, and Felch share excited looks. “No, I’m not hallucinating. That’s a cool $800 right there.” Sard smiles, looking over to the rest of us. “We might just be making it, boys! I’m feeling kind of excited. Anyway...” He starts dividing up the cash. “We’ll set 400 aside for the equipment fund, and I’ll just take a cut of $120, leaving $70 each for the rest of you.”
Felch sighed, looking down at the cash almost dejectedly. “Whooo, a $20 a session bonus, what a pay raise.”
I look over to Felch, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Hey, at least he didn’t take an entire double cut like he usually does.” Teller laughs at this, and Sard rolls his eyes with a chuckle, apparently in a decent mood for once. “Alright, I’ll be headed on into the bar, and remember-our $40 freebie agreement is still in effect.” He takes his money and shoves his hands into his pockets, walking over to the bar as I double-check to make sure my cut is of the correct amount, which it is. I slip my cut into my wallet and go into the bar, with the rest of the gang not far behind me. I walk in to see Sard with yet another girl, this one also a blond, but by herself. However, it seems this time Sard’s having a little bit of luck because she at least seems somewhat interested in him this time around. I take a seat at the bar and find the rest of Dirty Diamond taking up seats to my left. The barkeep moves over to greet me, but before he can say anything I speak first. “I’ll be taking a Black Flag, barkeep.” He wordlessly nods and puts my drink on the table, and I look across the room.
The crowd was almost disconcertingly dense now that I was on the same elevation as them, and sure enough I notice them start to move in our direction as they disbanded. I’m sure the others were talking about something, but I don’t pay very much attention as I notice several men in similar-looking leather jackets seated at various points across the bar. None of them looked too old, though, which clashed with the usual mental image I had of bikers being hardened and grizzled men with beards. I turn my attention back to my own problems, downing a fifth of the drink as I mull over that inescapable inner beast that showed its hand in the safehouse raid.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The rum helps take the edge off of it, as I look around the bar, and find someone with a leather jacket sliding into the seat next to me. “Hey, that was a pretty cool performance you had out there. Wick, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I replied in a flat manner, looking over briefly before returning to my drink.
“My name’s Jeremy. Y’know, I think that banter you and Sard had back there really added something extra to your performance. Sard acts like he’s the big head honcho, but I was kinda curious… how good of a leader is he, really?”
“That’s an oddly specific question to be asking.” I look over to him. Just as I had observed with the other bikers, he was fairly young, no older than his early 20s at the most. “Why?”
“I’ve always liked to study how leadership in groups works, really. I was really into those corny shows on TV where people get voted off an island every episode and watching how the commune would pick who to vote off first.”
“Yeah, I can see how that kind of thing might get interesting. Honestly, he makes a big show of being the leader, but sometimes I’ve got to be the one to really talk sense into him. He does put in some effort for us, though.”
He smiles. “Oh, I see… so you’re the one really running the show here? Should’ve figured, you’ve got quite the air of steadiness around you.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” I look back to my rum, a gentle reminder of how I’ve tried to deal with my own inner problems so far. “I wouldn’t even say that I’m particularly stable.”
The man chuckles. “It’s not a lack of problems that makes a great leader, but how they’re able to take it all on and still put on a strong front.”
I shrug. “That just sounds like good acting to me.” Good acting. That was a perfect way to describe how I felt about controlling my own inner strife.
“When you put it that way, yeah, I suppose you’d have a point, heh.” I look over to see another man in a leather jacket walk out of the room, and over towards Sard. I roll my eyes, mostly uninterested in bailing him out yet again, but somewhat interested in how exactly this particular feud would go. After all, the girl did seem to be showing some actual interest in him.
It started with the newcomer accosting Sard. “Fuck do you think you’re doing trying to chat up my girl?”
Sard looks over to the man. “Now hold on, is this really true, Ashley?”
“Dude, seriously, I’m not your girl, calm down!” She didn’t seem all that worried about this confrontation, even though I could already tell it’d result in a fight.
Sard raises an eyebrow. “Now why would you just walk over and lay claim to something you don’t have?” Sard then gets the bright idea of taunting the man with a smirk. “Maybe you’re a little jealous? Insecure, maybe?”
“Oh really, you think you’re funny, you little shit?” He gets closer as Sard slips off his barstool, backpedaling as he’s caught by surprise. “Sounds like you need a lesson in humility for disrespecting me!”
Sard, at first forced on the retreat, suddenly holds firm and stands tall, as he finally finds his ego. There’s barely an inch between them now “I’m no chickenshit, bitch.” I stand from my stool and start walking over quietly, hoping to stop Sard from ruining our relationship with the Keel-Bridge. “You wanna dance, we can settle it right now.” His voice carried with it a sort of determination and bravado that almost felt manifestly foolish, like how I’d expect rappers to speak about how they’ll jump each other on the streets.
I make it over and walk so that I’m facing right between them. “Gentlemen, how about you take this cockfight of yours outside?”
He only looks briefly over to me before looking back at Sard. “Good idea.”
Sard’s stare never moved away from the man. “Be there or be fuckin’ square.” Sard walks backwards and out of the bar, his pace never being particularly hurried.
I sigh as I step back towards my seat.
“Alright, boys, let’s go, gotta teach someone a fucking lesson.” He waves to his compatriots, and they get up from their chairs and start following him out.
I pause, observing them. I didn’t feel like babysitting Sard, but I wasn’t about to let him get jumped like this. I accelerate my pace and move to the other band members, putting a hand on Nork’s shoulder. “Guys, we gotta go. Sard’s gonna fistfight some biker gang leader and he just called his friends outside with him.”
“Oh, shit!” Nork looks over to the barkeep. “Hey, we’ll be back in 20, watch our drinks for us.” The barkeep nods in turn.
“Holy shit, Sard’s actually gonna fight someone? That’s kinda cool, actually.” Teller chuckled as he hopped out of his booth seat.
Felch sighs, looking over to me. “He better not have just earned himself a shanking.”
“Can’t believe I’m gonna see myself backing Sard.” I shake my head. “Anyway, let’s go.”
We walk out the door together and follow the bikers outside, behind the bar. They form a semicircle around their leader and we move around them, doing the same but behind Sard instead. The lights overhead shine brightly upon the dark asphalt of the parking lot, like a spotlight onto a boxing ring, our bodies forming a loose border outlining their fighting space. Sard rolls his neck, as the gang leader gets into stance. “Guess we’re really doing this, huh?”
“Time for you to get flattened!” The biker starts with a casual advance, then following by darting forward and making a wild swing at Sard’s face. Sard steps back and beats the attack aside with his left forearm, then leaning forward and making a jab with his right arm, snapping the biker’s head back slightly as he’s driven back a step. He smirks as the leader growls, and they both throw left-handed punches at the same time, slamming each other in the chest as Sard grunts and takes a step back.
“Damn. Sard really isn’t bitching out, is he?” Nork crossed his arms as he watched.
The leader, though I can tell he felt it, fought past it well as he follows up with his right arm, taking another step in as Sard ducks the shot and lunges, yanking the backs of his knees and sending the biker toppling to the ground with an affirmative thud. “Oh shit, Sard can move!” Teller smiled in apparent adoration, his hands in his pockets.
Not that it was a chivalrous thing to do, but I had hoped that Sard would’ve taken the opportunity to dive down onto the gang leader and drill his face for a few volleys, but of course he wasn’t fighting for the credibility of his underlings as much as he was his own ego, so he instead motions for the leader to get back up. “C’mon, didn’t you way you wanted to actually fight?”
Felch visibly facepalmed right next to me. “Oh, how is he a genius and a complete moron at the same time…?” He spoke quietly, so that the bikers opposite of us wouldn’t hear. As I watched, I did see Sard as a fool, but there was also something about his foolishness I admired; that he was willing to take risks, to be honorable and seek to win without springing on every opportunity to destroy his opponents outright.
The biker is left grumbling as he gets to his feet. “You think you can just toy with me and get away with it!?” He steps forward, leading into an uppercut that Sard leans away from, canting leftward as he punches the biker leader in the head. His head recoils, but Sard has to move his right foot backward to correct his balance, so his punch has little stopping power behind it as the biker follows with a right hook. His body apparently locked in place by his lack of balance, Sard ducks his head down deeply, the biker’s fist sailing over the back of his head with a glancing blow. Sard then suddenly steps forward, with a straight punch landing squarely on the biker’s nose, creating an audible noise as his head snaps back and he’s left stumbling two whole paces as he clutches his nose.
Sard briefly puts a hand on the back of his head, flinching only a little bit before he shakes his head with sharp force, settling his sights back on the biker. “You got more for me, motherfucker?” Sard sounds just a little more galvanized than before, leaning forward and spreading his arms out in a primal display of bravado. I catch Nork nodding approvingly, with Teller smiling and Felch just sighing, seeming to have resigned himself against being attached to the outcome. The biker’s underlings look among themselves, their faces holding slight concern and doubt upon them.
The biker finally moves his hand from his nose; it’s bleeding, and slightly out of alignment. “Oh, you have no idea just how fucking DEAD you are…!” His voice comes out as a snarl, as he gets back into stance. Sard also gets back in stance, as they approach each other once again. The biker racks his right hand back dramatically, stepping forward and throwing another punch for Sard’s head. However, as Sard moves a forearm to block it, he pulls his shot short, twisting his hips back around as he rams his left hand into Sard’s guts, audibly knocking the wind out of him as he doubles over, trying to regain his footing and his breath alike. The biker follows up with a kick, sending him sprawling onto the ground, his head bumping against the asphalt as he lands hard on his back. I can visibly see his chest struggle as he pulls his shins up to protect himself. The biker lets out a cackle as he walks forward, jogging past Sard’s shins as weakly attempts to move them in the way, failing to keep up with even a casual jogging pace. “Now you’re getting it!” I look past him briefly to see Jeremy with his arms crossed, smiling. It almost made me shiver, even more than seeing Sard prone and practically helpless.
He racks his foot back and slams his boot into the side of Sard’s head, as he weakly moves his hand in the way, the kick slapping his hand into his temple as his head bobs from the force of the kick. “Ugh...” The biker shuffles his feet around, repositioning himself as if he were about to punt a football. Sard barely moves, his hand shaking in place as a last measure of resistance as the next kick comes in, causing Sard’s face to flop on its side, resting against the asphalt like a fish-head. His hand finally drops, and he just sounds dazed as he groans.
Nork takes a step forward, his voice shifting to a more commanding tone rather than the generally more friendly and comedic one he’d take when he was normally talking with the rest of Dirty Diamond. “Enough. You’ve proven your point.”
One of the underlings is quick to step forward in turn, not moving any further in turn. “Oh, no. I’m not gonna be done for a while!” He cackles, as he steps in and makes another kick into Sard’s head.
“I said ENOUGH!” Nork growls as he darts forward, far faster than his frame lets on. He snatches the biker around his waist as he rotates about 90 degrees, and then moves with his own momentum as he rotates another 90 degrees, arching his back sharply so that he slammed the biker’s head into the asphalt, their combined weight crashing down with an audible slap on the ground, like a mountain’s avalanche. The biker leader limply falls down from being stood on his head as Nork lets go, dropping on his back.
“No way, did Nork just German suplex someone?!” At this point, I think Teller’s the kind of person who actually likes professional ‘wrestling’. Nork scrambles back to his feet as the rest of the biker gang starts walking forward.
“Ahh, shit, we gotta go bail out Nork!” Felch barely hesitates to step in, stopping only to toss his fedora aside before stepping up to oppose someone. Across the circle, I could see Jeremy pep-talking one of the other bikers-this one seemed only a little younger than the other ones, but I could tell from his body language that he was the least experienced. I saw him gesture in Teller’s direction and realized that without me stepping in, there would be nobody to stop them from overwhelming Teller in tandem.
I admit, I wasn’t very familiar with fistfights, but I had to try, for the sake of Dirty Diamond. I stride forward, letting the other biker engage Teller as I sharply step in Jeremy’s path, causing him to pause and look me over before speaking. “Oh, come on now, are you really gonna make me hit a girl?”
I tilt my head and smile. “Didn’t you want to figure out how strong of a leader I really am? Now’s your chance.”
He gives off a wry smirk, putting his hands up. “You know what? You make a good point.” I rifle my stance, holding my right arm at shoulder level. He makes a snatch for my arm, but I pull my arm out of the way and thrust my other palm into his chest, driving him back an inch as I hear him grunt. He makes a counter-punch with his other hand and I quickly back-step out of the way. “Not bad, but you hit like a girl.” Jeremy’s smirk held, clearly trying to off-balance me.
He had a point. I didn’t have a strength advantage or even great punching technique; I needed to end this quickly if I could. I remember a technique I saw in a special forces guidebook, so I decide to go for it. I dart forward, thrusting my palm in an upward arc towards his chin, certain I could floor him if I landed it.
It doesn’t land.
He deflects it with his forearm, sending his other hand into my side. I feel a sting as I recoil, but my focus holds. I see him follow with another punch towards my head, and I duck it, jabbing my off-hand at his stomach and feeling it press into him before I step back. I come back upright, the sting at my side lingering as I hear him let out a chuckle. “You’re quite the slippery snake-almost got me back there.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a bit quicker than I thought.” I keep my tone neutral, trying to figure out how to finish this. I realize I’m running out of options just as Jeremy swings his back leg around, throwing his foot towards my guts. I catch his foot as it slaps into my hands, realizing this new opportunity; all I had to do was take his other foot off the ground. I watch as he waves his arms around for balance, trying to figure out his next move. Moving my left hand to his knee, I slip my front leg around the back of his leg, pushing him back as I watch him topple over, his back hitting hard ground. I slide my right hand to the toes of his boot, gripping it tightly as I quickly snaked my left arm around and under his shin, bracing it against the wrist of my right arm. I see Jeremy pull his right foot back, angling for a kick, his only hope of escaping my grasp. I pivot violently on my left foot, twisting Jeremy around onto his stomach, extinguishing that last hope he had.
“Oh, nonononon-AAAUUUUGH” It seemed Jeremy finally realized what I was going to do to him before I flicked my wrist downward, the pressure of the toe hold tearing at his ankle as he screamed. I press harder into the toe hold, straining the ligaments further until it popped with a sickening snap, dislocating his ankle as he let out an even louder scream, and then paused to take a breath. “Y-you… bitch!” I let his foot drop to the ground, his foot bouncing at an unwholesome angle as his leg hit the asphalt. To be honest, I almost felt bad for doing this to him now. Almost.
I take a breath, shaking my left arm as I felt the strain the toe hold caused upon it. “Well, it was either that or I knife you.” I then turn around and see how the others were doing. Felch was wearing down his opponent in a calculated skirmish of punches, ducking, weaving, and jabbing, though it was clear he was tiring out. Nork was currently staring down the largest of the bikers, as they were currently locked in a grappling struggle. Nork almost looked like he was having fun, as I’d have expected him to easily overpower the biker if he willed it. I then turn to see Teller in the middle, at least managing to stay on his feet but almost outright refusing to throw a punch of his own. He likely would’ve been floored if not for the fact that the biker fighting him was also hesitant, rarely pressing the attack past the first punch.
I decide to start with him, walking over as I tried to figure out what I was going to do with him. My first thought was to slug him in the back of the head, full force, but he did seem hesitant when Jeremy gave him that pep talk. Clearly, his heart wasn’t in this, so I decide to try and show him some mercy.
Seizing his shoulders, I pull him back and ram my knee into the lower part of his back. He let out a sharp groan as I switched my grip to his wrist, using my other hand to press into his elbow and spin him around, shoving him towards Jeremy. “I’ll give you one chance to get the hell out of here before you end up like Jeremy over there.” I let out a confident smirk as he rubs his elbow, and then looks to see Jeremy, still writhing, his ankle conspicuously dislocated.
He blinks, probably hoping he wasn’t seeing what he thought he saw, then looking back to me. “You did this to him!?” I simply nod, putting my hands on my hips to really sell my attitude. I can see the horror spread across his face before he speaks, as he begins to backpedal. “F-Fuck this, I’m out!” He turns and runs around the side of the building, as I turn back to see Felch narrowly dodge a haymaker, quickly realizing that he was almost gassed out at this point. I quickly walk over, catching Teller staring with his jaw dropped in the corner of my vision as I stride over.
I wait only a few seconds for a good moment, and then I throw both arms around his, yanking them behind him by his elbows and pulling him close to me, immobilizing him. “Take the shot, Felch!” I feel the biker struggle and thrash, his feet lashing out searching for my feet and my shins, searching for any opportunity to break free as he grunts from the exertion. I don’t have to wait long before I see Felch unload a powerful haymaker into his head, jerking it to one side and dazing him. Felch takes a breath before he punches a second time, and then a third, each punch corresponding with a meaty slap as the biker finally goes completely limp in my arms. I drop him unceremoniously and step back as he hits the ground.
Felch puts his hands on his knees, sucking in air. “Holy shit… Good save, Wick.”
I chuckle, before turning around to see Nork sweep his opponent up into a fireman’s carry only to throw him several feet across his shoulders, as he hits the ground with a crash. The biker is clearly exhausted at this point, while Nork is only moderately winded. “WHOOO! That felt good.”
“Nork, that was fuckin’ amazing! I can’t believe you actually got to do that in a real fight!” Teller walked over quickly, fist-bumping Nork.
“You’re proud of him for taking the least efficient path to victory?” I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. Although, part of me had to admit Nork flinging that man was quite impressive.
Nork crossed his arms. “Heh, you wouldn’t understand. You’re not into professional wrestling like we are.”
“Wait, BOTH of you are into that?”
“Actually, yeah.” Teller adjusted his baseball cap. “Nork and I had a dream of being a tag-team one day, but that ended up falling short, so we decided to settle for being in a cover band instead.”
“That actually explains a lot.”
“Hey, assholes,” I turn around to see Felch, now with his fedora back on, and grabbing one of Sard’s arms. “You wanna help me make sure Sard didn’t just get himself a nice big cup of amnesia?”
“Oh, shit, right!” Teller quickly moves over to help him carry Sard. Nork lumbers over to take up his legs. I decide to slip in and hold up Sard’s back with my shoulder as we carry him to the van. Teller unlocks the van as we awkwardly prop up Sard in one of the seats.
“Hey, you guys go on without me. I’m gonna go tell the barkeep we’ll be out for the night and then just walk home from there.”
Felch raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep an eye right on Sard?”
I nod. “I’m sure, but keep me posted via text, okay?”
Felch nods in turn, then looking into the van where the others were. “Alright, let’s get our stupid, glorious leader out of here.”
I step clear of the van, and see it drive out of the parking lot. I slip my hands in my pockets, heading back inside. “Hey, barkeep.” I see the same barkeep from before come over to us, quicker than normal. “The rest of the gang’s gone for the evening. I’ll stay for a few more drinks, though.”
“Let me guess, Black Flag?”
“You betcha.” I finish the rest of the glass without caring about how much left was in the glass. I pause, as I fight it down-it was probably about half a glass, if I had to guess. I was left thinking about what I had done to Jeremy. Was it really because I had to, or was it because he had reminded me of a certain someone, the same certain someone whose name I’m trying to avoid mentioning, the same certain someone that had something to do with the fallout that finally moved me to run away?
I feel disappointed in myself, somehow. The next drink comes, and I down a few more rounds of Black Flag to try and forget the details of why I was disappointed in myself. It was nice to drink it all away here rather than back at the dormitory-saves me having to wash out a glass, if nothing else. I eventually see myself out, my nerves so loose that someone could probably have a gun at the back of my head and I wouldn’t really feel anything. That night, sleep came easier than usual, but I had a feeling that the morning after would be bringing some unpleasant surprises.