On the Nature of Bar Fights

Posted on Sunday April 28th, 2019 @ 01:08 hours by Clinton Westbrooke Jr & Mercy
Edited on on Sunday April 28th, 2019 @ 01:38 hours

Mission: Pixie Dust
Location: Olimar IX - Arrif Colony Spaceport
Timeline: MD3
1699 words - 3.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Clint didn't want to say that Olimar IX was a terrible place to be, so he didn't.

"It's a backwater shit hole and it smells like one, too," He grumbled to the man giving him trouble at the bar.

"It's my home," The man spat back.

Clint slowly turned his head to look at the man, "My condolences, then." He said, flatly, raising his drink and taking a sip, trying desperately to go back to minding his own damn business. In almost no time at all, the Fawkes would be arriving at the starport orbiting overhead and he'd be off this rock.

"You got a lot of balls saying shit like that to me about my home," The man hissed, giving Clint's shoulder and abrupt jab.

"Tony, leave the guy alone, would you?" The Bajoran bartender said from across the way. Her tone of voice said that she'd seen this song and dance before, "You don't like it here either when you're sober."

"Shut up, Malis," He said, jabbing his pointer finger in her direction.

"Hey... there's no need to be rude to the lady like that," Clint growled, looking back at this 'Tony' fellow. "You started this shit, I was just trying to drink my damn drink and you asked me what I thought of Olimar IX. I'm an honest mother fucker if nothing else," He grumbled.

"That's what he asks all of the new people," The bartender complained.

"I have a right to know," Tony bit back.

"You're trying to pick a fight," Malis countered.

"I don't want to fight," Clint replied, turning back to his drink. That was true enough... but man, the more this guy talked, the less true it got.

"So who are you, huh? Big shot? What makes you so good that you can talk about Omilar like that," Tony pressed.

Clint sat quietly, sipping his beer, and looking around the room. There was a booth in the corner that was unoccupied... maybe he could make his way there and get away from this guy. He noticed the large, lupine creature across from him looking on with interest, "This your home, too? You about to start yellin' at me?" He grumbled.

"Nope." sounded the lupine creature's voice, rich and warm, with the texture of molasses. She flicked an ear, regarding Clint, and he might get the impression that although her voice was of normal loudness and carried well, she was holding back and speaking only a little above what would be considered a whisper for her. "Wouldn't want to live here if they paid me to." she added, lifting what could only be described as a bucket of beer, though in her massive paws it looked like a mere tankard.

"See?" Clint said, motioning across the bar at the woman. "It's not just me, you're outvoted. Now leave me alone," He grumbled.

"Fuck both of you," Tony spat. "Who the hell are you to be all arrogant about this, huh?" He demanded, getting met with a hard silence from Clint.

"Leave him be, Tony," Malis pressed again, more firmly this time.

"No," Tony bit, reaching out and snatching the PaDD that sat next to Clint's arm, "Let's see who you are." He said, pulling up Clint's info.

"Hey, put that shit down," Clint bit, reaching out to snatch it from him, but Tony pulled it away and started laughing dryly.

"Oh I get it. The son of Vice Admiral Clinton Westbrooke Sr. is too good for our little rock is that, it?" He said, sarcastically with enough overdramatic oomph to fill the room.

"Believe me... my dad and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of shit," Clint said, stiffly. "Just give me the PaDD back," He said, his tone gruff.

"You think just because your mom got lucky with one of the passing dicks she caught on whatever backwater station she was assigned to, you're better than us? Huh?"

Tony was probably too drunk to notice, but Clint's entire posture changed at that, as he abruptly stood and stared the man down, giving him his full attention for the first time in their interaction, "I ain't got a lot of bright spots in my life, pal," He said, glaring at the man, "And my ma was one of them, and she's dead. So how bout you stop talking about her and give me my damn PaDD back," He said, dangerously calm suddenly.

The lupine form grew ever more annoyed, though it was hard to see. Her fur was black, making her expression difficult to read in the dim light of the establishment. She hefted her large tankard of beer and took another deep swig, wiping her maw before speaking again. "Both of you, pipe down. I came here to drink in peace, not listen to the quarrel of a married couple." she scowled, her voice ringing out loud over the general din of the booze bar.

"I'm asking his ass to let it go, right now," Clint growled.

"So am I," Malis hissed, glaring at Tony.

"Oh, what, that's it? Mommy issues? You stupid piece of shit. What'd she die of, something one of her men gave her?" Tony spat, grinning ear to ear to have found a chink in Clint's armor.

"You need to stop talking, give me my PaDD, and walk away," Clint said, grimly.

"Your mother was a whore," Tony said, the last words that he said clearly that night.

Everyone in the bar cringed at the crack as Clint's punch landed, sending the scrawny man back into the bar. Clint nabbed him up by his shirt and punched him in the face again, then tossed in further into the bar and started lurching toward him to continue the beat down.

"That's enough!" Malis shouted from behind the bar, "He's had enough, alright, guy?! Let him be!" She was already making her way out from around the bar to try and stop this mountain of a man from pounding the town trouble maker to paste.

To his credit, Tony was already on his feet, and screaming, preparing for a charge on his assailant.

The next thing the both of them knew was being lifted off the ground by the scruff of their necks, a tall and massive form towering over them, emitting a low, deathly growl which rumbled like thunder and was felt as much as heard. Her grip was unbreakable, and her arms like timbers, as she held on to the two struggling men, as they kicked and screamed, fruitlessly. "I said, knock if off!" the lupine form bellowed, turning to lumber out of the bar, simply carrying the two men, their feet up off the ground.

To his credit, once the initial shock wore off, Clint just sort of crossed his arms and hung there, staring off into the distance, angrily. Tony screeched and railed, flailing at the massive wolf-woman with all the intensity of a three-year-old throwing a tantrum.

Their different reactions made the choice of what to do with them a lot easier. Clint found himself landing in the cold and disgusting water of a feeding trough outside the bar, while Tony found himself flying through the air in a neat arc before landing with a splash in the no less repugnant and frigid water of the small river outside the establishment. The wolven woman muttered a curse in her own language under her breath as she ignored the two and lumbered back inside, heavy footfalls accentuating, large form ducking to fit through the doorframe.

Clint splashed around in the trough, cursing between gasps of air, until he made his way out of it. He leaned on the side of the trough, trying to catch his breath.

He stood up straight abruptly, and yelled at the bar, "My job offer was on that PaDD! I need that Pa--" He was cut short as the PaDD caught him right above the eye, busting open his eyebrow.

"GOD DAMMIT!" He screamed, kicking the trough.

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed... it could be worse. At least the fight was over.

The irony of that thought became apparent as Tony tackled him from behind with a roar.

"C'MON MAN!" Clint screamed, wildly throwing punches at the man who'd latched on to him with a vengeance and wouldn't let go, "C'MON!"

The last thing either of them heard was a shout from a police officer, before the sound of a stun baton crackling into them shredded the air, and darkness found them both.

=====

The annoying buzz of photonic lighting going bad was the next sound that Clint heard, that accompanied by the dull thrum of an old force field generator. Blearily, he opened his eyes and looked around. A cell. It wasn't the first - or probably the last - time he was in one... but the timing was garbage. He sat up on his cot and gently touched at the lump on his brow where the PaDD had hit. Someone had patched him up while he was out, but the swelling was still there. He hissed a bit as his fingers made contact and a sharp pain reminded him that prisoners didn't get full medical treatment.

"Hey," He croaked hoarsely, then cleared his throat and called again, clearer this time, "Hey."

"Yeah, WHAT?" A sharp voice bit back.

"I had a PaDD with a job offer on it... It was by me in the street... did you guys get it?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah, we've got your shit. Now shut up, prisoner."

Clint shrugged. Guards weren't known for being social.

"Good job, asshole," Came a familiar voice from across the hall from him. "All you had to do was say sorry."

Clint narrowed his eyes to focus on the source of the voice, and he groaned, finding Tony scowling at him, "Man... go fuck yourself," He said.

Tony scoffed, and Clint rolled over and closed his eyes. He'd sleep off the headache, pay the bail, and hopefully still have time to meet up with his new CO... and *hopefully* she'd still hire him in his busted state.

 

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