Dooku was drunk, and I realized that I was entirely on my own. So, if I was going to wear the freaking mask, now would be the right time to do that. Still, the thought that such a simple robbery would force me to jeopardize all the plans I had spent a lot of time coming up with brought bitterness to my throat.

Two of the goons had now broken off from the rest who were antagonizing the customers and moved to the counter where Dooku, I, and several other customers were seated.

Their motive was clear as they passed all the other customers; they were headed for the bartender.

"It's Sunday, old boy, you got any offerings for us?" one of the clowns grinned, his nicotine-stained teeth flashing as he brandished his pistol menacingly at the bartender.

The poor guy frightfully nodded and hastily reached for the money drawer.

"Oh, oh!... Not that fast, fatty... Reaching out for some gun?" the man shook his head profusely as he stared trembling at the pistols that were now trained on him.

The thugs were now right next to where Ndoku and I were seated. I dared not look at them, but I kept to my glass, taking calculated sips, trying not to drain it.

We were not heroes here; that was Batman's job. Dooku too continued to sip from the bottle, unconcerned.

I could not tell whether the guy was actually aware of what was happening, but drunk or not, I knew that both the Sith and the Jedi had a strong mental constitution and stamina. I bet that Dooku was also trying to stay out of the scene. How long we would manage to do that, only hell knew.

With astounding agility, one of the goons suddenly swung over the counter and brought the back of his pistol hard on the bartender's face. The man let out a groan and succumbed to the floor.

The clown then reached towards the drawer before staring at his friend and then burst out laughing.

"My bad, man, no gun, just dollars!" he yelled as he began to take out the money and place it on the counter; the other clown stashed the money in some bag in his hand.

"Get me another one,"

A drunk voice rang out, breaking the monotony of the robbers' voices. I bit my lip and cursed inside, knowing that now all the chances of avoiding a confrontation had taken a sudden dip.

That drunk voice was none other than Dooku's, and it settled my doubts. Dude was not faking to stay out of the commotion; the guy was simply drunk and oblivious.

His head, which had been previously lowered and focused on his bottle, now rose to meet that of the new bartender.

The two guys, as well as other clowns in the bar, had also frowned, and everyone was now focused on the guy who had enough balls to ask for another round amid a robbery.

"Excuse me?" the clown on the counter asked as he recovered from his previous surprise and now trailed his pistol on Ndoku.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Are you deaf or something?" the count slurred. "I said, get me another bottle of this!" He brandished the empty whisky bottle towards the clown. "He will pay," he finished as he waved his fingers towards me.

'Great,... Just fucking great... Dude had to make sure we went down together," I cursed as now the robber's attention moved between Dooku and me.

"Well, he better begin to pay up," the clown who had been stashing away the cash said as he glared his gun at me. I felt as if my belly was burning up, mostly not because of the cash, that I could afford to lose. The problem was because the cash was in the same place as the mask... What if they...

But then I got an idea. I reached out and began drawing the cash out when another yell rang out.

"Where is my drink? Why are you taking so long?" Dooku slapped both his hands on the counter and wobbly got up.

"Get your drunk ass down or I'll blow your head!" the clown on the other side of the counter approached him with the gun trailed at him. There did not seem to be any apparent fear in Dooku's eyes, and I could almost guess the reason for this. He probably did not even know the danger he was facing. I mean, he was used to sabers and blaster guns, and whatever this dude was pointing at him resembled none of those things. Still, whether he knew it or not, it did not diminish the amount of danger he had placed himself in.

"Here is the money," I said, handing the goon the cash. I was hoping to distract both of them from the Sith, but it became clear that it would not work. The clown who was on our side of the counter was staring at Dooku's waist, and when I followed his line of vision, it led right to where the hilt of the count's lightsaber was visible. That is when I realized that whatever I did, a confrontation was inevitable.

Both goons drew nearer to the drunk count now with...

"Don't you fucking move, Mr. Smart Guy," one of the men said. They both had their weapons trained on the count, and not just them; the commotion was attracting the attention of the rest of the group. If ever there was a time for Dooku to go fully and bloody Sith, that time was fucking now.

"Let me see those hands, bitch," another goon barked. Even though the situation had escalated badly, I felt a warm relief when I saw a mixture of caution and alertness in the count's eyes. It was clear he had realized whether he knew what the things that were pointing at him could or not, he could not take the chance. Both his hands slowly came up as requested, and the two clowns close to him followed the action with intense focus.

Seconds later, I realized why.

Dooku did not break his eye contact with the first guy, and quickly, awareness of what was happening dawned on me. Having seen Force suggestions or mind tricks being used both by the Jedi and the Sith, I realized it was what the Sith was initiating.

Based on the reactions of the clowns all over the bar, he was employing it with the Sith sophistication that made its effect universal amongst all.

"Listen to me," the count's voice was calm and soothing as he addressed his main victim. "Anyone with a painted face will kill you, so you should kill them first."

His hands slowly dropped, but the face of the victim remained the same... Then I noticed a slight change as if he was struggling... Trying to reason... And eventually, that resistance broke.

"Kill them first!"

A yell was echoed, and it was then that I realized that the effects from the first victim had been made universal amongst all the clowns.

The first two began to turn towards their colleagues, but they were barely halfway when shots began raining in the bar. I did not wait to see Dooku's handiwork; immediately, I dove over the counter and fell right next to the unconscious barman.

Even having known how powerful this style was, I had not expected to see it performed with such success... If you could call what had happened a success at all.

Now that I was out of immediate danger, I felt anger rising at the count's recklessness.

I mean, he could have done anything; he could have suggested the clowns to walk away... He could have done anything instead of having eight men slaughter each other.

Just the kind of attention this incident would invoke in Gotham would be insane, especially given the fact that there was a bar full of witnesses.

For a while, I contemplated wearing the mask and finishing off the witnesses, but that too would not help. What I had feared had happened, and the plans that I thought I had enough time to carefully bring to life had been torn.

The ugly game had begun the ugly way!