There were four of them, though I tell you as drunk as I was there might have only been two or only one of them (yes even sleeping it off I was still drunk from all the drinking). They were wearing the usual "I'm Tough" outfit, chains torn clothing bad haircuts. Its a cliche for a reason, no matter how out of sorts I get with the way the world is, punk morons all dress vaguely the same. They were hassling the bartender probably the usual "give us money or we'll smash your stuff." I almost wanted to watch since she'd brained me pretty good and I wanted to see the same thing happen to the morons. But she appeared cowed by them, gone was the firey bartender who smashed me in her place was a cowed woman.
"Leave you little shits before someone takes some toilet paper and wipes you out." I admit I took some time to come up with this one, even drunk I still love a good line.
"What's this then? A down on his luck bum comes to play the hero?" His voice was high and whiny, made me amazed the other three followed him.
"Leave him be Jorn, he's just some drunk who fancies himself a hero."
"Does he now? Well I fancy myself a beating." I tried to call up some fire to show these punks who the real dangerous one was, but much like before all I had was the alcohol in my blood and the fuzzness in my head. They beat me pretty badly, which even though there were four of them was kind of good planning. Because ordinarily when you're beating someone with a group of people you get in the way of each other and the victim doesn't get as much as they normally would on your one on two or one on one beating. But apparently this group plans this kind of thing out, because they messed me up so bad I was seeing quadruple and puking from the impact. I'd have felt bad for the vomit, but judging on my injuries the only thing I was feeling was pain.
"Enough Jorn," The new voice was the commanding sort, clearly the leader. Jorn struck me once more in my nose with a booted kick and it broke it, my eyes swelled shut and the blood gushed and ran into the puke.
"Stupid bum." They all spit on me, as if that was necessary after everything else (insult to injury as it were).
"Collect the bum Jorn, and Ms. Clancy I assume this tells you not to hire a protector next time?" Two of the punks hoisted me up and I felt all my injuries come into stark painful relief. I don't know why they were grabbing me, I had hoped it was just to dump me in the trash, but no I was carted out to a truck and dumped into it with other bums (well I assumed bums, perhaps they were people on a huge drinking binge like I was and ordinarily were honest up right citizens, but I kind of doubt that). We were all carted off to be cleaned up and rehabilitated as model members of society! Kidding, we were thrown into a hole and had our lives threatened. Because of course thats what happened.
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