A Fighter's Story

Chapter 3: The Bar Brawl and The Scrappers

"Whatever happened to respect a man in his own home?" Baux huffed as he was shoved out of his billiards room by Colt. "You come into my parlor, arrest me in the middle of my game, but worst of all, ya killed Rich," he looked back at Colt with confusion in his eyes, "why'd ya kill Rich?"

"Eh, wrong place wrong time," he shrugged. "But don't you worry about your little buddy Rich, I'm sure you're gonna make a whole bunch of friends in the Dusty Max Prison." Baux groaned in frustration as Colt led him back into the main parlor. "Now chin up tough guy, wouldn't want all your adoring fans to see ya-" he was cut off as a trashcan smashed against the wall beside him, "down in the dumps?"

Colt looked over the ledge where the guardrail once stood before his little stunt with the guard a moment ago. He looked down at the commotion that grew wilder with each second. What he saw could only be described as carnage. Large men were throwing the lighter bodies around the floor like a paperweight in the wind. Women were having their fair share of fun by swinging the heels of their shoes at anyone who got too close. The robotic bartenders just seemed to dodge and watch the mayhem unfold. He looked to the far right corner and saw a woman sitting peacefully sipping on a drink and watching the raucous rumble with a quaint smile on her face. A man came running towards her with a broken bottle in his hands growling like a wild animal. The woman didn't flinch she just picked up a pink umbrella beside her and knocked the glass out of his hand with ease. She then smiled and slammed her umbrella down on his head, knocking the brute out cold.

'Damn, she didn't even spill her drink,' Colt thought with a chuckle. He pushed Baux down the stairs as he kept a tight grip on his wrists. "Yo, Tyler, where ya at little buddy?" A man crawled up to Colt's feet groveling in pain.

"Call off ya little freak," he wheezed out. Suddenly all the air in his lungs came out in one large puff as a young boy jumped down from the rafters on his back.

"Right here, Mr. Domire!" the young plucky blonde kid responded with an aloof British accent.

"Tyler, the hell happened here?" Colt asked surveying the disorder purveying the parlor.

"Oh well ya see, Mr. Domire, we were all drinking and laughing and dancing but then this guy," he bopped the man on the head to signify the culprit, "decided to start throwing insults my way. Of course, I kept my cool but then I saw men come running from upstairs followed by ya gunshots. Then that one fat man came falling from upstairs so I figured you had decided to start a fight, so I tracked down this bastard and had some fun. Guess everyone saw the fun I was having an' joined in." Tyler heard the man beneath him start to shift so he dropped his foot on his neck with malicious force, "Oi you wanna tell Mr. Domire what ya said?"

"Go Fuck ya self ya shrimp dick little - gah my fucking arm!" the grunt yelled as Tyler bent it back like he was ripping the wing off a chicken during Thanksgiving Dinner. He pulled on the man's ear eliciting another shout of pain from the punk.

"Hey tall, dark dumbass," Tyler growled to Baux, "Tell me ugly, what happens when 8 pounds of force is applied to the human ear?"

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" Baux leered at the boy before Colt whacked him over the head again with his revolver, "Umm rips it right off I guess?"

"Damn straight!" he looked back down to the guy he was currently straddling, "now tell me fugly, ya wanna help me with a little science experiment?"

"Okay, you win!" he looked up at Colt and sighed with annoyance, "I said-"

"Tyler let him go," Colt sighed looking down at the poor guy that Tyler had been abusing. "Look I'm sorry about him he gets really excited when fights break out. Tyler, what did I tell ya to do in bar fights?"