Chương 165: Act 3, Chapter 19: Bitches

Day in the story: 7th January (Wednesday), around 1. 30 a. m. I opened the doors into the pub and let Loki come inside, waddling her tail and asserting her absolute dominance with her cuteness aura—or whatever it was that Caroline was channeling through that dog. It worked like a charm, gaining the attention of a few patrons, a waitress doing the tables, and a barman behind the counter.

The barman was an older man, and I bet he fought within himself to tell me that dogs shouldn't be brought inside, but something was messing with his brain. It looked as if he was frozen mid-motion, with his mouth slightly open while looking toward me, before he finally gave up and returned to reading something on his phone without a single word. The waitress looked at us a bit longer before she picked up a tray with a few glasses and went behind the counter as well, giving me a smile and a wink on the way.

Me or Loki—I wasn't really sure. The patrons, though—those guys were a tougher crowd. Absolutely no smiles. Worn faces of people who spent a lot of time outside. Three-day-old facial hair, scars, tattoos, and heads shaven down to zero. To top it off, they wore black leather jackets and similar trousers and looked absolutely mean. I counted eight of them in total: six at two tables, drinking and talking, while two played pool farther inside. Those at the tables looked beaten, though.

Their movements were stiff, and they winced from time to time at sudden jolts of pain. Some had visible bruises on their faces as well. Definitely the guys I was looking for, but I decided to park my cute ass at the bar and wait for them to come over. Benefits of being a woman.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked when my presence forced him to drop his reading.

"Hi!" I said cheerfully, playing the happy-go-lucky to the best of my abilities.

"No idea, I like colors. Could you pour me something that has the most of them?" He rolled his eyes but forced a smile anyway.

"I'm no expert in mixing, but I can get you a cranberry daiquiri."

"That would be fine, I guess? Is it sweet?"

"Yes." He kept being unapproachable, while also annoyed at the fact that he had to do something. Fortunately for me, my little fingers and the sp-eye-der tattoo on my neck had shown that three of the guys in biker gear had taken the bait and were already coming in my direction.

"By the way, you're lucky the dog is cute. Otherwise I would've asked you to leave it outside."

"Shut up, Patrick, you faggot," the first man spoke in what I assumed was my defense.

"Can't you fuckin' see that the girl's here for the first time?" The barman just shrugged and moved to prepare the cocktail for me. Goldilocks positioned herself so the guys would have to pass her to get closer to me.

"Hey babe. What brings you here? Looking for some fun with real men?" The man's face was bruised on the left side, his teeth missing there as well. His eye was swollen and bloodied, and he reeked of blood, piss, and alcohol. Perfect combination. I bet no one could resist his charms.

"As a matter of fact, that'd be splendid. I can't stand those boys in their tight jeans and excuse of a body. I can already see that all of you guys are packing. Can we move to your table?"

"Ehm. Sure, bitch. We can, but we might go to the toilet too if you're hasty to get some of that meat, right boys?" He laughed and turned to the other two, who faked a laugh as well, although they were hoping for their chance too, judging by how they measured me. There was a hierarchy here, and the one speaking was at its top in this room.

"I could blow you in the toilet, but if you want something more, I won't do it in there. Too gross."

"Great," he said simply.

"Let's go."

"Not so quickly, big man. I wanna drink my drink first and know that my dog will be in good hands." I replied pushing against his chest with my finger.

"Joel and Bill will take care of it. And sure…" He exaggerated.

"You can have the drink first. I can wait. Where's the lady's drink, Patrick!?" he shouted at the bartender.

"Yeah, lady…" He whispered under his nose.

"Coming."

"Bring it to the table," I said and went toward the one where this group had sat moments ago. Loki followed me in a heartbeat, without a question.

"I will tell you a secret. Wait—what's your name?" I asked the courting gentleman.

"Marty, but they call me Steel Viper."

"Can't wait to find out why!" I cheered, smiling ear to ear and making a stupid face.

"So, I have this secret, Mr. Viper—I love it when a man can fight."

"You've come to the right fucking place. Every one of us knows how to throw a mean fucking one, right boys!?" He shouted, and they responded by raising glasses or shouting back.

"You seem a bit bloodied and beaten. Been in a fight lately?"

"Bitch, please. We chased off some trespasser this morning. Was trying to stir some fucking trouble in our neighborhood. Can you fucking believe that?"

"Here? In this very pub?" I faked surprise while sitting down and allowing Loki to put her muzzle on my lap—good girl was thinking ahead.

"No, you stupid?" he replied.

"He came onto our fucking turf and said that he wouldn't let us beat others like him when he's around."

"Like him? He said that?"

"Not the exact words." Marty replied, while Patrick brought the drink for me. I thanked him and took a sip. Much lighter than what I'd expected.

"But he was mistaken thinking that he's fucking alpha or something. We beat the shit out of him."

"I hope he looks worse than you guys," I replied.

"What the fuck, bitch? What's that supposed to mean?" he said, and the two guys at the pool table stopped playing and held the pool cues like some kind of spears.

"It looks like he beat you all badly. I just hope you left him for dead or something. I like when a man knows how to fight."

"He…" His brain short-circuited or something, trying to work the hardest. Reality at work, or reality of being a fucking racist dumbass.

"He must have brought some others with him. I fucking don't remember. Bill, how many were they?"

"Tfwo… or f-five? Sixf?" the smaller man replied with a lisp, much to the dissatisfaction of his boss.

"Shut the fuck up. You got some, what is it called? Brain damage! To think that six could even touch us!? Fucking loser fucker. Must have been at least twenty of them." Seems like Reality indeed—it was filling in the blanks in their memories with fabricated ones that suited them best. Their racial innuendoes suggested that it might have been the Rhythm too.

"Can I see where you fought? It turns me on like nothing else!" His eyes went wide.

"Yeah. Can't fucking see why not. I have a pretty big bed on site as well. We will use it. I want you to ride me like I ride my bike."

"Let's do this," I replied with a cheer, while drinking up the whole drink and throwing away the straw. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"What about the dog?"

"Oh. Is that far?"

"No, by the marina in a warehouse. This guy and his fucking friends are hiding in some house nearby. We'll find them and kill them, right boys!?"

"I'd love to see that," I said.

"If it's close, my dog will run after me. She knows my scent."

"I don't think it can keep up, babe, but sure. Let's just go to the toilet first. I need that quickie."

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Wait with the nice men," I said to Loki, who seemed unsure what to do. I winked at her, letting her know that it's fine. I stood up, catching the man by his left arm and dragged him behind me toward the toilet sign. The wild whistles of his crew accompanied us all the way. He hurt badly, whimpering under his breath as I kept squeezing his bruised arm. We quickly reached the stalls, where he pushed me inside and closed the door behind us.

He unbuckled his trousers, letting them drop to the floor, then took off his dirty, shit- and piss-stained pants and smiled widely at me.

"Drop to your knees and suck."

"Likewise." My quick strike crushed his windpipe. He clawed at his throat, gasping then dropped down when I undercut his legs with a kick, but before he could hit the ground, I sent him away toward Times Square, as my spellbook materialized around my waist. Overall, it was pretty quick and silent. And I didn't kill him, which was more than that racist piece of shit deserved.

I waited a few minutes, dropping onto my knees smearing my trousers for the effect needed to sell my story, while I sent my book back to the Domain. I walked out, swallowing audibly and shutting the door behind me, as I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. Loki was waiting right outside the door, with her back against the wall next to them. She patiently observed the men—especially the two that were with Mr. Steel Viper at the same table. They were close to the toilet now and waiting.

"Marty came and passed out. Such a bummer. I was in the mood for some hard fucking. Maybe one of you boys can take me to that big bed of his and we can fuck there?" I said, wiggling my finger against each of those men's chests. They melted instantly, and the one called Joel sucker-punched Bill in the temple, knocking him out.

"I will take you," he said.

"Boys, the girl is mine. Recognize?" he asked strangely, to which they howled. Then he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me outside, opening the doors with a kick. He pointed at his bike and declared with pride.

"Hop on."

"Sure. Loki, follow me, okay?" I told the dog, while I placed myself behind the man on his bike. I also noticed Caroline farther away, sitting in a parked car. Did she break into it? She sure as hell had to. Damn. We rushed into the quiet street with a roar of an engine. I was thankful that I wasn't using Usagear this time with the mask on, as the odor this man secreted was excruciating even to my human nose. I wouldn't want to even begin to imagine how much he'd smell to something like a bear.

He tried to speak to me at one point, but he had difficulties due to the noise and the alcohol mixed with cold air, and quickly gave up, much to my satisfaction. I hoped that we'd reach the destination quickly, before his men found out that the boss was not in the toilet, but I also assumed that they wouldn't be in a rush to check on him. There was a chance that Reality would fix that for me as well. And as we cruised through the night, I noticed Loki following us closely behind.

Far enough to not be easily seen if one did not pay as much attention as I had, but close enough to not lose us. She was matching the bike in speed without much of a hassle, and only momentarily I saw shadowlight running through her fur, shining in bright gold and yellows. We arrived at the gate to the marina after just a few minutes. Loki didn't play hide and seek anymore and came close as soon as the guy jumped off the machine to open the lock on the gate.

He was so taken by the prospect of doing me, though, that he didn't even notice the good girl. I came closer to her and patted her on the head.

"Thank you for following me. You rock," I whispered into her ear, as I brought it up.

"What?" Joel asked as he turned to see me and the dog.

"How the fuck?"

"I told you she would run after us and she did. I ain't a liar!" I lied.

"But that's not possible, right?" he asked, then hit himself in the cheek with an open hand, slapping himself straight.

"Never fucking mind. Let's go in." Could I say no after such a beautiful invitation? I went in without saying a single word, crossing the threshold of a metallic gate into the marina side, where the unset sails of the boats wiggled slowly in the slow-moving tides of the river. The ground was paved in here, with just single blades of frost-stricken grass pushing through the cracks. It was freshly bathed in blood too. In many places.

Frozen over due to the temperature, it looked surrealistically bleak and yet unmistakably red in color and iron in smell. The whole place reeked of it, and the piss, and even the shit. There were torn clothes dropped against the wall of the warehouse. Some bloodied trousers, a purple jacket, and even broken bike helmets. Two of those were set on pikes in front of and to the sides of the doors to the thing, like heads on spikes. Two bikes were inside already when Joel brought his own in and set it near them.

There was an old truck set to the left, with one side dented in so much it looked as if it was hit by an explosive. A few of those craters were on the ground as well, where the concrete looked like it was woven together by some drunk spider that dealt with entropy and not silk.

"Looks like a battle!" I exclaimed cheerfully, to play my role.

"Those guys brought in some heavy stuff. Grenades?" he asked, unsure, while moving toward the doors.

"Were those helmets here the whole time?"

"Those on the sticks?" He patted one.

"Yeah, we took them from a gang that we wiped. Boss thinks they look fucking badass, so we have them on motherfucking display." He answered, then furrowed his brows.

"Why are you asking so many questions?" His posture stiffened, and he reached for a gun behind his jacket and pointed it at me.

"I had this fucking thought before, when you joined the table, but something kept messing with my thoughts. Fuck. You a narc? A cop? Who the fuck are you!?" he shouted, and I moved back far enough for a bullet not to hurt me much. I was trying to keep the distance while playing scared.

"I am not!"

"What did you do to the boss!? I fucking should have checked," he said, and without a warning pulled the trigger. All I managed to do in response was focus on the sticker on Loki's collar and blink toward its location without much thinking. I avoided the bullet no problem. The issue was that I was now closer to the guy, as this brave dog was up on him after she grabbed and smashed the pistol in her teeth and spat it away.

She bodied the man to the ground, jumped off of him as he hit it, grabbed him thrashing against her collarbone, and kept dragging him, as he shouted, toward the water in the distance.

"How did you teleport to my dog?" Caroline asked, as she arrived at the scene at exactly the wrong moment. I couldn't answer, though, as the owners of those bikes at the front decided to check up on the shooting and shouting and came out. One was big like a fucking mountain of fat and muscles, with a way-too-small jacket and hastily buckled trousers. He carried a baseball bat, while the smaller and more petite man, with swirly mustaches and a bare chest with a swastika tattoo on it, came out with a shotgun.

"The fuck!?" the smaller man shouted as he assessed the situation and pointed the gun right at me, when the bigger fellow ran at Caroline. Now, a word of advice from an art critic. There was a time when a symbol on the man's chest was more about well-being, good fortune, and prosperity; in some parts of the world it still is. This man, however, put it on his own skin to show his affiliation with a foul movement of hatred, prejudice, and pure evil.

He made a mistake, though, because it was way too detailed, metallic-looking, and made by a tattooist to represent sharp blades adorned with blood on the edges. And as it stood out, I wasn't the one not to abuse other people's mistakes. Become a steel whirling saw, mince this guy. I sent with a thought, while I moved closer in to grab the shotgun, just in time to move it away from my direction. The shot went toward the doors instead of me, while I punched his now thrashing body away.

His swastika tattoo was whirring his skin away at high speed, like a blender embedded directly in his body. He shouted at first, trying to reach the thing with his fingers to stop it, when I freed him from his weapon. But as the fingers met the blade on his skin, they too were cut off in a shower of blood. He only had a brief moment to look at the stumps before the terror, or the damage I'd done, made him succumb to the loss of consciousness and he hit the ground.

In the meantime, Caroline met the big guy's swipe attack of the bat with her wakizashi guild blade that shone with shadowlight and cut right through it.

"Fucking ninja!" he shouted, right before Loki jumped onto his back, dropping him with such force that he too was knocked out. I looked around to see what happened to the guy that brought me here, but I couldn't find him at all.

"Care to explain yourself now?" Caroline asked, while Loki came closer to her. She reached for her collar and quickly found a sticker with my painted ear on it. She tore it off and dangled it in front of herself with straight arms, wearing a displeased face.

"I wanted to keep tabs on Loki if something happened while we were separated. I'd have told you," I replied as she threw it away.

"Whatever. Let's say that I believe you. You found the right place." Her humor changed like in a kaleidoscope.

"We probably do not have much time before the rest of those guys come back in. Let's look for some leads, okay?"

"Sure," I replied.

"You go in. Me and Loki check those morons and the yard?"

"I'd prefer to check something here," I replied, removing authority from the whirling swastika.

"I must say, that was the cruelest and coolest use of this wretched thing I've ever seen. Well done," Caroline admired, as my rainbow shadowlight evaporated from the guy's tattooed and bloodied body.

"The moving is a new thing?"

"Yes," I said back to her, looking at the half-torn chest of the guy. He would not survive that, but somehow I wasn't crying about his fate. He made bad choices in life, and I was the consequences that met him. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I think I might have a way to see what happened here exactly," I told Caroline, looking at the reflective black visors of the planted helmets. They overlooked the scene of the battle, and I hoped that the glass would remember. I also knew exactly whom I wanted to see.