“Get ‘em!” one yelled.
Six men rushed at them brandishing chairs and bottles. The bar erupted into a hail of punches and bloodshed. Five minutes later, Taylor and Jafar stood over the bodies of their attackers who were now unconscious or incapacitated in some way. The rest of the bar’s patrons could do nothing but watch in amazement. Blood poured from Taylor’s nose where he had been struck more than a few times, and his jaw ached like hell. Despite the pain, he managed to break a smile to Jafar.
Sirens could be heard approaching on the road outside, but they made no attempt to run.
“You’re going down for this!” shouted the barkeep.
He rushed out from behind the bar with a scattergun in hand as if to act all tough, now he knew he had the authorities close to hand.
The young lad who Taylor had so recently been conversing with leapt forward to jump in the way.
“Hey, come on, you saw who started this!”
“You keep your mouth shut, kid! These boys came in here looking for trouble, and they found it.” He turned his attention to Taylor again, “We don’t want your kind here. You fucking soldier boys are all the same. No war to fight, so you start one.”
“Marine,” replied Taylor sharply.
“What?”
The barkeep rushed up to Taylor with his gun and tried to jam it in his face.
“What was that you said?”
Taylor gave him not a second longer to make his pathetic attempt at intimidation. He snatched the barrel of the gun and ripped it from the man’s arms and turned it on him.
“I didn’t spend years of fighting and losing friends to put up with this shit.”
He spun the stock around and struck the man’s face, breaking his nose. He dropped to his knees, blood pouring through his hands as they cupped his bleeding face.
The door of the bar burst open and police rushed in. Taylor instantly released his grip, as to not be gunned down by trigger-happy local authorities, but he was still as calm as ever.
“You just remember who it was who fought so you could live your life,” he stated.
He knew his words would be lost on the bar owner, but he seemed to get some sympathy from those watching. Others were disgusted by his actions and seemed to view him as the sort of degenerate who they’d rather have behind bars.
“Freeze!”
It was over. Six cops all ready to pull the trigger rushed them. Two pushed Taylor over against the wall to cuff him. They tried the same to Jafar but could not move him. One stuffed a gun in his face and screamed. “Turn around! You are under arrest!”
He looked to Taylor first. He wouldn’t take the command from a stranger. Taylor nodded in agreement for his friend to accept their fate, but he smiled at the cops, revealing blood seeping into the gaps of his teeth. In response, one drew a shock baton and drove it into his stomach. His went limp and dropped to his knees.
“Not so funny now, is it?” the cop shouted in his ear.
* * *
The night seemed to have gone on forever as Taylor sat on a hard bench in a prison cell. After what he’d been through in military detention, it didn’t seem so bad. Jafar sat in a cell opposite him. He was willing to bet good money that his alien friend would be capable of prising the bars apart with his bare hands, but he had done as ordered and gone along with it. Hours had passed without a word between the two of them when Jafar finally spoke out.
“Yesterday you tried to get out of a fight any way possible, and yet in the night, you sought one, why?”
It gave Taylor pause for thought.
“You say you don’t want to fight anymore, but then enjoy it when the time comes.”
“A good honest bar brawl is the end to a good evening. Fighting a war is something I would wish on no man.”
He wasn’t sure he necessarily believed that whole-heartedly, but it seemed like the best way of explaining it.
“But you were asked to fight a war, just one Mech. An unarmed Mech. How is that different to what we just did?”
He didn’t have an answer. Somehow in his head it made sense, and he had enjoyed every minute of the brawl, and hated the Mech fight and the reasons for it.
“Your people only seem to like and respect you when there is a war and when you are fighting it, and yet you wish for peace?”
The questions were getting more trying and piercing Taylor’s thoughts.
Yes, maybe I do pray for another war.
A door opened at the far end of the corridor dividing their two cells, and they could hear three pairs of footsteps approaching. Neither of them got up to greet their visitors. Two cops and Weaver came into view. Weaver was shaking his head in disgust and disapproval.
“You’re a maniac who should be locked away in times of peace for the good of society. But someone, somewhere thinks you have a part to play. You’re a relic, Taylor, one that will be paraded around until nobody longer cares and then thrown aside. I can just see your life ten years from now. Sitting in a trailer park somewhere, alone and drinking yourself to death. Replaying the glory days in your head while nobody gives a shit anymore.”
Taylor wanted nothing more than to reach through the bars of the cell and throttle the detestable creature. He only restrained himself because the only thing he wanted more was to get out of the cell.
“And a good morning to you,” he replied sarcastically.
Weaver shook his head. He was clearly trying to get a rise out of Mitch and give them all an excuse to keep him behind bars, but he wasn’t biting.
“Let him out.”
“Bail ain’t even been paid,” protested one of he officers, “This guy wrecked a whole bar and half the patrons in it.”
“I think that’s exaggerating. He’s one man, not an army. Now, you know who I work for. Let him out before I have to start making calls you don’t want me to make. And let that thing out while you’re at it,” Weaver said, waving towards Jafar.
The cop reluctantly swiped his security card through the cell access point, and the door slid open.
“There’s a first time for everything,” said Taylor.
“How so?” Weaver asked.
“I’m happy to see you,” he sneered.
“All right, let’s go.”
The two of them followed Weaver out of the cellblock to the front of the station where they heard cheering coming from the front desk. They got to the atrium to see two police officers watching a video of his fight with the Mech the previous day. It had clearly been filmed by one of the audience. He could see the crowd come into view on the edges.
“That you?” asked one of them.
“Fucking epic,” added one of the others.
“Yes,” added Weaver. “That little stunt of ours has caused quite a stir since it has gone viral; five million views in less than a day. A lot of people can see plenty of potential in that.”
“In what? Live assassinations? We used to condemn and invade countries for it.”
“Times change, as you should learn. The people want what they want, and I’ll happily give it to them.”
“As long as it doesn’t risk your own neck.”
“Precisely, Taylor.”
Taylor didn’t like what he was hearing, and he doubted he’d like what was coming in the next few weeks even less, but right now, he was just relieved to be free once more.
“You have a driver waiting out front. He’ll take you directly to the Deveron where you’ll be transported back to base. You’ve got a few days leave, anyway. When you come back, you can be guaranteed we’ll have something to keep you on your toes.”