The Red Barn Resteraunt & Lounge

Grand Mound, Washington

United States of America

8 August, 1986

2230 Hours

        I could hear the music when I pulled up, country music blaring clear out to the parkinglot. Friday night and the place was jumping. I recognized a few of the vehicles from High School, the paint jobs faded and more than a few of them dented up during the years since they'd graduated High School and I'd graduated Special Weapons training. I was 18, but I'd been in classes a year or two ahead of the majority of kids my age. I'd have graduated in 1984, but fate had interviened and sent me to Maximum Security Juvenile Detention and then the military while they had just continued on with High School. They had continued on with their lives, working on the family farms, at the local stores, or even trying their hands at college, while I had survived Alfenwehr and Atlas.

        We had nothing in common any more.

        The truck's engine pinged in the cool summer night after I shut off the ignition. Three men were by the side door, which led to the dance floor and the lounge/bar. I was familiar with the place, Jed having brought me there when I was younger so he could drink and not worry about us kids screwing stuff up. More than a few nights Ineda, Logan and I had sat out in the car till the early morning hours while Jed had sat inside and drank. Things had changed when Tiernan Stillwater had adopted Ineda and me, but I doubted the layout of the lounge had changed at all.

        My wallet only had about sixty bucks and the Mastercard in it, the rest hidden in a cubby back at my wreck of a house. Even if I got jacked for my wallet, they wouldn't get much and I'd still have a good war chest. Easily enough to buy some black market firepower up in Tacoma if worse came to worse.

        The three by the door watched me intently as I lit a got out of the truck, put on the baseball cap I'd found under the seat of the truck, and lit a cigarette. I could feel my nerves singing with adrenaline as the little lizard in the back of my skull caressed the big red button that would send me into a killing frenzy. My senses were on alert, the little lizard automatically keeping all the variables updated. I knew how big the dirt parking lot was, how many cars and trucks were parked in it, how far it was to the grass on one side and the road on the other, how far the grass extended and how high it was, and approximately how many people were inside the restaurant/bar.

        None of that showed on my face or in my stance as I got closer to the door. The three were straightening up, one of them nudging the one next to him with his elbow and all three snickered. I knew this game, and hoped they wouldn't try to play it out too far or I'd lose any chance at gathering intel. Part of me thought that a tactical retreat to return when they weren't at the door might be the wisest course of action, but I pushed that aside, knowing that backing up now meant that these three would mistakenly believe they'd intimidated me, which meant that if they were still inside when I returned they would figure that I'd make good Friday night entertainment.

        "You looking for something, four eyes?" The middle one asked. Now that I was closer I recognized him. Alex Stanford, a wise mouthed little punk in high school who liked to run interference for bullies bigger than he was. He hadn't changed much, still a skinny short little fuck with a belly full of the little man's problem.

        "Just a drink." I said, letting the hoarseness in my voice carry over. I was still about three steps away, one step from being in the light. I'd tilted my head to shadow my face, but obviously they could see my glasses.

        What was it that made people see glasses and automatically think the wearer is some pussy?

        "Just a drink..." the one who'd been nudged mimicked in a high pitched whine. Jonas McFaelin, high school football tight end and locker room toughguy. He'd put on a lot of fat since high school but probably still considered himself a bad ass. The way he touched his thumb and middle finger together and limply shook his wrist told me what he thought of me. "I just want a drink and some cock to suck." he kept mimicking, thinking he was funny. His tone brought up the memory of someone else who liked to mimic people to insult them.

...'please. stop. i'll tell you whatever you want.' the rogue CIA asset whimpered, his mocking and mimicry cut away by my Gerber...

...TELL ME HOW TO BRING MY COUSIN BACK TO LIFE!...

        "Get back in your goober-mobile and keep going, nerd." The third said. Michael Williamson, who'd been two grades above me but still had liked to sit in the school parking lot at lunch and smoke cigarettes with his friends and ogle the high school freshman girls.

        "I think I'd like to drink here." I told them. It wasn't going to play out the way they thought they wanted it to and I could smell the liquor on their breath and knew that they weren't going to listen. They were out for a bit of sport and thought they found it.

        Of course Jonas immediately mimicked me like a ten year old girl. All three stepped forward, Alex jabbing his fat finger into my chest.

        "Get back in your goober-mobile and get lost, Waldo." Alex told me, following as I took another few steps backwards. They were out of the light now, and we were clearing the row of cars parked in front of the building. I turned slowly and kept backing up like I was heading to my truck.

        "You better keep backing up." Mike sneered. "You picked the wrong tavern, four eyes."

        "What the fuck is your problem?" I asked. Adrenaline ran down my spine like cold fire and I could feel my limbs warming up.

        "You, motherfucker, you're the problem." Alex said. They took another two steps as I kept backing up. "You ain't welcome here."

        Jonas suddenly darted behind me, pushing between my shoulder-blades to stop me from backing up any further. We were a good ten paces from the door, which meant nobody inside could see what was about to go down.

        "I think four-eyes here needs a lesson not to stick his big nose where it don't belong." Alex laughed, reaching forward to push on my chest.

        One step and I was between and past Alex and Michael, planting my feet widely apart, my hands going to their chests and shoving. They stumbled back a half step, hit my calves, and went down on their asses. I heard Jonas shout but I was already turning around, moving so I didn't get tangled in the two on the ground.

        Jonas was coming at me, his fist hauled back by his ear already. Instead of backing up or trying to go defense like I knew he expected I stepped into him, driving my fist into his stomach hard enough to pick him up off his feet. He went down into the dust and I turned around in time to see Michael roll onto his side and Alex pop up on his feet.

        "Oooh, you fucked up now, four-eyes." Ales said, his hand dropping to his belt where I could see a hunting knife riding. "Think your smart cheap shotting..."

        His eyes widened when I didn't bother with the shit talking, just coming in fast, grabbing his arm before he could pull his knife and spinning him around so he was facing away from me with his arm behind his back, my hand around his wrist and my other hand on his shoulder.

        "Shall I break it, pumpkin?" I whispered lovingly in his ear. "It'd be easy, just a snap."

        Michael went to get up and without losing my grip on Alex I kicked him in teeth, the heel of my combat boot catching him with his mouth open to yell something. The kick sent his teeth and whatever he was going to say down his throat, the pain sending him back to the ground holding his suddenly bloody mouth.

        "Let me go, man, we didn't do anything to you." Alex whined. I wrenched on his arm, forcing him up on his tiptoes, and he shouted in pain.

        "Just like in the locker room? Just like at the bus stop, Alex? Like when you used to kick my ass out by the tether-ball when we were in school?" I kept whispering. I lifted his wrist a little more and he cried out again. "Remember that? I didn't used to fight back, did I?" Behind me I could hear Jonas vomiting as his brutalized stomach purged itself of the alcohol in it.

        "Little Orphan Annie?" He asked. I could hear the sudden dread in his voice. "Dude, whatever it is, can't we talk it out?" I lifted his wrist a little more, being careful because I could feel it was near the point of either his shoulder dislocating or his arm breaking.

        "Sure." I told him, suddenly pushing him away from me. "You wanna talk, let's talk."

        The lizard and I both knew what he was going to do before he even did it, before he even turned around. So far nobody had come outside the tavern to see what was going on, probably figuring the three were kicking my ass out in the parking lot and having a little fun. That would change in a couple of minutes when someone looked out the door to see the fun and saw that it wasn't quite the way it was supposed to.

        Alex's hand went to his waist, his arm moving awkwardly due ot the pain in the joint, and he pulled out his hunting knife, making a jab toward me. "Yeah, Annie, whatcha gonna do now, huh?"

        "Give you about five seconds before I feed that knife to you, you little midget." I told him honestly.

        Alex lunged at me, making a 'yah!' sound he probably thought was intimidating.

...the knife coming down at my face, desperately raising one arm to block it, the masked killer's strength slamming his forearm into mine with enough force that the shock ran all the way up my arm. He leaned over me, the mouth strap of the mask open, showing that he was missing a tooth. One eye was bloodshot and swollen, the other bright with malevolent glee...

        Stepping into the thrust I turned so the knife went by me. I grabbed his wrist, striking his elbow with my other hand so his arm folded, his knife suddenly coming up toward his shoulder. I shoved him, hard, so his side hit the grill of my truck and I bulled in quick, putting my hand over his mouth, my hip against his groin, and my hand holding tight to his wrist and squeezing.

        "I warned you, Oompa-loompa, what would happen." I told him, smiling. Jonas was still out of it, still puking up his guts. Mike was holding onto his mouth, sitting up, rocking back and forth. Alex's eyes were wild as I put pressure on his wrist, forcing it back toward his shoulder. He had held the knife blade forward to stab me in the guts, now the point was starting to dig into his flannel shirt. He mumbled something under my hand, his breath hot and smelling of whiskey, his eyes rolling in the socket.

        "Take your medicine, boy." I growled, pushing a little more. There was only one way he was going to avoid having six inches of steel put through his shoulder.

        Alex tried to knee me in the balls but I turned, avoiding the shot, then pulled my hip back before slamming it into his groin. His grip weakened and he moaned as the tip moved further. He punched me twice in the side, unable to get much movement, to no effect. Matron Aine's grip on me as we rutted in the grass had made my ribs creak, Alex's punch wasn't even noticeable.

        "Try letting go of the knife, midget." I told him, grinning. I could feel the left side of my mouth jerking up further than the right. His hand flew open and the knife fell to the ground. He tried to put a shot into my head as I released his wrist, but I grabbed his throat and bent him backwards, squeezing on his trachea.

        "I want a fucking drink." I told him conversationally. "And you and those two idiots fucked that up. I flew thirteen thousand miles and I'm fucking thirsty. I just want a drink, understand?" I pulled my hand off his mouth and relaxed my grip on his throat, letting him get a breath of air.

        "You just want a drink." He gasped. I squeezed again, making his face turn purple. Jonas was straightening up, I needed to finish with Alex before Jonas worked up his courage again.

        "Good. You come at me again, and you'll look like Jonas." I told him.

        Jonas lunged for me as I let go of Alex and moved to the side. He hit the truck and before he could turn around I grabbed him by the belt and collar, pulling him back, lifting, and slamming him head first against the steel grill guard. He shouted as I pulled him back, still holding him off the ground, and slammed him forward again. I hadn't broken eye contact with Alex, who was paling.

        "One more for luck?" I asked, lifting Jonas up slightly. He weighed at least two hundred pounds, but ammo weighs more, and I'd spend two years moving it by hand.

        Alex shook his head and I dropped Jonas into the dirt. I stepped back, brushing my hands off.

        "I find out my truck is fucked up, even a scratch on the paint, I'll come to your house and beat you like a shit eating dog in front of your kids." I told them. I held my hand out to Alex. "Gimme your fucking wallet before I take it."

        Alex pulled out his wallet and I made sure he saw me pulling his driver's license out of it. I tossed it a few yards away. "Go get it." When Alex went to grab his wallet I grabbed Jonas' wallet and did the same thing. Alex was coming back over as I dropped Jonas' wallet on his semiconscious body.

        "You pick that knife up again, I'll feed it to you through your fucking eyeball." I warned him. Alex spread his hands out and backed up again. I walked up to Michael, put my foot on his shoulder and shoved him over, then got his license too.

        "I know where you three live now, just in case you think about getting smart." I told them, pocketing the three ID's. "You and your shitty friends get me, Oompa-loompa?"

        "Yeah, we get you." Alex said, his voice shocky. "What happened to you?"

        He wasn't asking out of concern. He was asking the suddenly trained attack dog he'd kicked around as a puppy, trying to make sense of how he suddenly was powerless.

        "I learned I liked killing people." I told him. I'd meant to scare him, but instead I felt a feeling of cold dread in my stomach as I realized I was telling the truth. I liked to hammer on people, break them, feel their bones break and flesh tear.

        Alfenwehr had taught me well.

        The horror of that realization didn't stop me from kicking Michael in the back of the head as I walked by him, heading for the bar.

        I felt good. Real good.

        Jonas and Micheal's sobs gave me an almost sexual shiver of pleasure as I walked away from them, knowing that I'd done more than physically beaten on them. None of the three would come at me again. Not now. Not ever.

        Hurting people isn't a good thing, boy. My Father's voice counseled me.

        Sometimes it's the only thing you can do. I answered.

        He had no answer to that.

        That bothered me more than what I'd done to the three men.