Neon District: Redux

Part Two Chapter One: Fisticuffs

         The green neon lights blared down on the bar goers with their sparkly dresses and neatly fitted suits as they danced their problems away when the music made a beat drop. The people in the Lone Ranger bar seemed like the type of people to have no problems or worries, but it depended on which part of the bar you're focused on.

       Those on the dance floor in the center of the bar danced with their flamboyant clothing and sparkling foreheads. The sweat did not appear to worry them not one bit. Their exaggerated facial expressions, however, did somewhat of a good job to hide the pain, guilt, or agony in their eyes. The usage of the blaring music against their ear drums and the fast paced environment created a wonderful lie for how they truly felt inside, but their eyes could never lie.

       The people near the back of the bar with the line of booths were far easier to read with how they conducted themselves. Between focused on the table full of colourful drinks before them or the women being accompanied by them; their eyes said everything. In their eyes and how they held themselves was a dead giveaway on how they truly felt; greed, lust, and domination. 

       The patrons seated upon the bar stools in front of the bar tenders who poured them multiple colourful drinks. It varied on how readily available they made their true feelings public, of course. Some were very easy to see the pain or guilt in their eyes and movements while others were like a stone wall: impenetrable.

       And sitting right in the middle of it all was Sam- neither a stone wall nor a book, just existing and taking in the world as he took a sip from his glass. It tasted quite bitter but it didn't matter to him considering it is what he could buy for how little money he had.

       He swirled around the brown liquid in his glass as it shone under the neon lights. The faint green reflection slowly turned into shadows as three men approached him from behind with one having placed a sweaty hand on Sam's shoulder. 

       "What you did to my buddy back there wasn't very nice," the man told him closely in Sam's ear. Sam didn't say anything as the man spun him around in his bar stool to face him.

       The men looked no older than twenty-five but their posture made Sam to believe they may be older, but that's probably just him over analyzing things again.

       "He was simply donating to my charity, nothing huge," Sam replied as he took a swig of his liquor before he placed it back on the bar.

      "And what is your charity?" one of the men asked.

       "My love for cheap booze," Sam answered before getting up from his bar stool and heading towards the back exit. He didn't bother to glance over his shoulder to see if the men followed him. They no doubt were as they weren't the first group to pull something like this on him.

       Opening the backdoor to an alley, he heard the door didn't slam shut behind him, instead he heard it creak three times before it slammed shut. These men were as predictable as the rest of them; getting too worked up over a fallen comrade that lost no more that what was in their pockets. 

       The first man took a swing towards Sam's skull, but he swiftly moved his head to the right where the man's fist slightly grazed past Sam's blonde locks. Sam then lurched his right leg under the man and sent him flying to the damp concrete below with a splash as the man made contact with a puddle. The man winced in pain before his buddies lunged at Sam- trying out the same tactic their comrade made despite it not working out well for him.

       Sam managed to dodge pass the second man's swing, but the third one's fist connected with the side of his head and Sam went hurdling into the side of a brick wall. His ear felt sticky and he could only hear a slight ring out of it, but that never did stop him from making his enemies eat concrete.