[Four months later...]
Jean was reaching into the cooler to pull out an ice cold Molson when she heard the familiar crash of breaking glass. Shit!
She turned and heard the accusing laughter of the drunkard's friends, who were slightly less drunk than him, as he pouted pathetically after the pint he'd dropped. She sighed and applied her winning smile, "Don't worry about it Benny! I'll clean it up."
Benny just nodded and continued to pout, looking nearly on the edge of tears. Paulie nodded his head toward the broom and dustpan, "Take a-"
"-rag too. I know. I've been here a while," she smiled.
Paulie smiled back, "Not too long."
Jean walked over to where the glass had fallen, in front of the bar itself, in between two seats. Benny's had been vacated and in his place, as his friends tried to quickly walk him out before he could embarrass them with his tears, was Marshall Iser, local dick, frequent drunk, and all around asshole.
"It's kinda chilly out there, ain't it, Red?"
She rolled her eyes as she swept the floor, "Of course it is. It's January in Canada."
"Who cares?"
She didn't reply.
"Do ya need someone t'help keep ya warm t'night?"
"Nah, that's what liquor, blankets, and books are for. Oh, and possibly the fireplace conveniently placed in my bedroom."
"No need ta be so bitchy, Red," he laughed. He then slapped her ass as she leaned over with the rag. "Jus' a bit's fine fer me."
Anger rushed through her, scarlet, sharp, and fiery. Small pieces of glass began to slowly rise in front of her face, but thankfully everyone was too occupied laughing at his poor joke that she could get everything under control, relaxing her mind.
Unfortunately, in relaxing her mind, it left her body incredibly vulnerable, which Marshall inadvertently used to his advantage, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her to him. He tried to kiss her, but the palm of her hand was faster and a loud slap hit his face, leaving an impressive growing pink mark on his cheek.
"You fucking bitch!"
Marshall hit back, hard. His drunkenness didn't mess with his fighting skill as much as it would a normal human, probably from much of the practice his uneven nose showed. His fist cracked her alongside her head, sending her flying into the counter, head connecting with a crack. A flash of black and glittery colors flew over her eyes before it cleared, but not in time. A sharp kick met her ribcage once, twice, three times, bruising if not cracking a rib or two.
She cried out, mutation useless as horror and shock over what was happening filled her. It was the last thing on her mind. Jean curled in on herself, warm blood trickling from the side of her head and onto the floor in front of her. It didn't stop him.
Marshall grabbed her red ponytail and pulled her to her feet. Two of his friends grabbed her arms, holding her in place while he punched her in the gut, definitely breaking a rib that time. She screamed.
"Quit it, Marshall!" Paulie shouted.
"Ya gonna stop me?" he snarled, holding Jean's face in a vice grip while he looked her over. "You ain't never stopped nobody before."
Paulie faltered. He was a big guy, but he wasn't very strong and Marshall had always had brute strength and quite the rage. Paulie was gruff, but non confrontational. He didn't stand a chance.
With a grin, he turned back to Jean and hissed in her ear, "I'm gonna take ya somewhere. Somewhere you ain't gonna enjoy, girlie. I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you and when I'm done, I'm gonna kill ya. How'd ya like that?"
She groaned weakly, eyes squeezed shut from the pain in her gut.
"Let her go."
It wasn't loud, but the commanding growl cut through the commotion like a plane through the sky.
Marshall stumbled around to face the man who spoke, "What the hell d'ya think yer doin'? You betta leave me the fuck alone."
"I'm not leavin' 'til I have her."
Jean opened her eyes just a crack. She instantly recognized him. He was a fighter and a loner, known as Wolverine by the town. Most were scared of him, but she wasn't. While he was rough and short, he was always respectful to her while he stayed on his stool at the far corner of the bar, chugging beer like water.
Though he had been drinking since three that afternoon, it being around eight at night now, he didn't look the least bit drunk, and he was clearly ready to fight Marshall.
That also registered with Marshall. With wide eyes, and a shaky tone, he asked, "You gonna fight me?"
Wolverine shrugged, "Maybe, but ya don't seem worth it. Just give me the girl."
"Like hell!"
Marshall took a swing at him and Wolverine acted fast, punching back. He hit him in the face with an almost metallic sound and sent him flying into the man holding Jean's left arm. The man holding Jean's right dropped it with surprise, allowing Jean to drop to her knees on the floor.
Marshall took to stand again, his broken nose to bother in his beer induced numb and adrenaline. He was going to charge back, but then his eyes widened to the size of soccer balls, along with most of the bar.
With a snikt!, Wolverine popped metal claws, about a foot long long in length and there were three on each hand. It looked painful, but Jean was more worried about Marshall and his gang.
Like the coward he was, Marshall ran out of the building, his gang following closely, which included about half of the bar. Many trucks started outside and drove away. Wolverine grinned ferally as he slipped the claws back inside his arms. Paulie reached for a gun he kept over the bar, but Wolverine raised his hand.
He came over beside Jean and picked her up softly. She groaned.
"It's okay, Red. You'll be okay. You just need to focus."
Her ironic laughter was the last thing she heard before she passed out.
