Hello once again Loveys X)
It has been far to long since i updates this story and I GREATLY apologize for that. Collage and well LIFE in general has been pretty rough he last little while so finding time and energy to write has been very hard.
But at last things have started to calm down. I will not promise constant updates but i will promise to continue to write as much as possible. I am sorry ic ant do more but well that's life for you
As per usual if you do like the story feel free to leave a review or favorite it or follow as it greatly helps me feel better about myself ;)
Right onward to the story
Chapter 14- Attack on Adam
SHIT FUCK. FUCK. FUCK ME SIDEWAYS WITH A RUSTED SPORK
"This is the official, written, witnessed and signed copy, of the will and testimony for one Adam G Conway. In the event of my very possible demise, probably within the next few minutes, I here by give all my money and valuables to my family, my roommate, one Alex H Chen, and my girl friend, one Meghan P Allen. Please look after those possessions, and care for them as if they were your own. I promise that if you do so as instructed, that they in turn will look after you.
My only wish is that everyone i know, forgive my boss for the role she played in my death. She is not at all responsible for her actions, and given the circumstances, a quick and painless death was far more mercy than I deserved, for the sin which I have committed.
I love you all and I am truly sorry my death has come so early in your lives. My only regret in this life, is that I did not wake up a mere twenty minutes earlier and as such, would have managed to get to work on time.
Yours, once and always, Adam G Conway."
"Aaaaaaaaaaaand done" I exclaimed brightly to my soon to be executioner, before saving the text file and sliding my phone back into my pocket, "My will is now in order, you may commence with the punishment."
Yes my executioner. Though I suppose "BOSS" would be a much more fitting word to describe the five foot six, mass of curly brown hair and boiling rage, who is currently in the process of trying, and somewhat succeeding, to burn me alive with nothing more than her malicious glare.
"Hmmmm Let me Think about this for a second." she stated softly, sarcasm virtually dripping off each and every enunciated syllable she uttered, finger's pressed up against her lip as she gave me her best "exaggerated thinking pose". "OHH I got something!", she exclaimed brightly with a wildly over the top smile.
"What if... and hear me out on this before you disagree ok?... How about... YOU JUST SHOW UP ON FUCKING TIME FOR ONCE?!"
I winced in both terror and pain as she yelled. Nicknamed the banshee's howl, that screech of hers tore through any man or woman unlucky enough to be caught in its blast, like a hot knife through butter. Obliterating with a practiced ease, any and all resistance it found in your brain, and forcing you right down to your meteorically knees.
"Or I could do that..." I meekly stuttered to her seemingly towering form.
"Good boy" She said patting my cheek with FAR to nice of a smile gracing her lips. "See to it that you are never late again, or else you can find a new way to pay your bills. Is that clear?"
"YES MAME" I stated, swallowing the lump in my throat, before swiftly saluting her, and all but sprinting across the bar to my drink station.
Yes you heard that correct. My drink station. I work at a bar. Not just any bar though, The Hornets Tavern. One of, if not the, single most popular club this side of the slums. A run down, hole in the wall kind of place, that served everyone from your average blue collar worker, right down to your biker gangs and thugs. It's the type of bar that was as rough and tumble as any of the clubs found down here in the slums, especially on a Friday evening "aka tonight", and also one that currently was sitting as just bellow max capacity. A literal shit show if I do say so myself.
Pint glassed littered the bars and table, people laughed and cracked obscene jokes, some smoked, others fought, glasses broke every now and again, and tables got flipped more times than i care to count. It is honestly a wonder the place hadn't been destroyed after all these years of abuse. Granted, when a place is run by a person with as big of a reputation as Lisa Huller's, I suppose people tend to avoid doing anything that might paint a target on their backs. Short in stature, terrifying when annoyed, and down right lethal when provoked, she is the literal hornets that come after you if you kick her nest.
Which in reality really begs the question of how and why I, a slightly skinnier than average, twenty year old, serves drinks here. I mean really, it's one of, if not the most, nerve wreaking, stress filled, extremely dangerous environments, I have ever worked in, and if I'm being completely honest, working here probably shortens my life expectancy by a few years, every single shift. The answer to both questions though is actually lot simpler than you might think though. See, it is also one that pays me twenty and hour plus tips, so at the end of the night, I cant really complain to much about it, plus there are a couple extra perks that come from working here. A few of them being yoga pants, and white tee shirts. Wet white tee shirts.
Tonight though was one of our busiest nights, and thus would not grant me much time to admire the view from my booth. True to form, less than thirty second after I arrive and set up shop, it's already swarmed and swamped with orders to fill and I quickly find myself already having to work double time just to fill all the glasses handed to me.
Rum and coke, vodka lime, ginger and rye, Jager bomb, the list just goes on and on and on.
The first few minutes is always a agonizing flurry of non stop motion, but eventually after a few mishaps, you kind of find the of the rhythm and pattern of the bar and the time starts to all by fly by. Soon enough, four hours of your life has passed by, leaving behind nothing but a blurry few memory's of of alcohol and bar folk. Order after order drink after drink. An endless cycle that seems to never stop, giving you little to no time to think or even breath. Just read, grab, pour, repeat.
Slowly, ever so slowly though, the flow of continuous orders begins to wane, as less and less people fill the building. Until finally, at around one am there is only the regulars, that frequent the bar each and every single evening, still around. Each one sipping their respective drinks and making small talk with the employees while they clean up various tables and prep for close. Its relaxing to see the familiar faces, and to hear them bitch and moan about how they have to work at some ungodly hour tomorrow. To know that I'm not the only one who sufferers from lack of sleep and far to much work, though I make doubly sure Lisa dose not hear those complaints, for fear of her actually firing me.
Well almost all regulars I suppose. One corner booth was still occupied by three gents, all of whom look to be either getting ready to leave, completely wasted, or high as a kite. Possibly a combination of all three.
I watch them out of the corner of my eye as I clean, more out of curiosity and boredom than anything. Maybe they would be a new group of regulars, or maybe they are simply passing though. Granted it never hurt to add more people to the already large group that occupied the bar, and regulars always tipped more so that was a big plus.
Time passed by with relative ease. Tables were meticulously cleaned off and moved back into place, glass was swept up and disposed of, tills were counted and bottles capped, I even go the chance to sit and chat with a couple of the older regulars before they headed out, leaving only the closing staff and the table of new comers as the only people still left in the bar.
Stepping out for behind my area, I started to head over to see if they needed anything before we closed up shop, or more likely, to retrieve payment for the drinks they had consumed so far. My reasoning being that a new girl who's name I hadn't yet learned was currently manning the main registered, so I figured she would probably need some assistance with the final groups cash out.
I will always remember that as the moment that the metaphorical shit hit the fan.
Half way over to their table, all three members stood up quite suddenly and reaching into their waist bands. Three separate handguns were drawn and pointed in our direction in just under a couple seconds, forcing me to stopp dead in my tracks the moment one of their barrels was pointed right at my face.
"Not a fucking step closer" the wanna be gangster/robber, slurred keeping the unsteady muzzle trained directly on my person.
Holding up my hands I nodded at him and pointed with my thumb to the table just beside me, "My feet are killing me man, can't we at least sit while your doing your thing?" I asked as nonchalantly as was possible.
"What?!" he spat out, Did I fuckin stutter? I said don't fuckin move!", briskly taking few steps close to me, the muzzle of his handgun lowering only a small amount as he moved.
"No you didn't but hey, guess that means its OK right?", I replied, trying to sound as bored and tired as possible, before sliding slowly into the chair closest me, arms still held high in the air. "See? No harm or fowl, I just wanted to sit down is all."
The robber gave me an rather rude and indignant look, before walking right up to me and jamming the guns barrel into my forehead. "I SAID, don't FUCKING move dipshit." He boldly proclaimed to the people present around us, jamming the barrel harder and harder into my skull with each second. "What part of that don't you fucking understand!?"
The barrel dug painfully into my forehead, even broke through some skin, allowing a bit of blood to leak down my forehead. Still though despite the uncomfortable position, I managed to look up. Not at the robber mind you, up at the magazine of the weapon now drilling into my skull. Hoping against hope that they were as stupid as the cloths they wore indicated.
There, in big bold lettering on the bottom end of the magazine was a very distinctive and clear marking. A big "WE Airsoft Industries", stamped into the metal. I almost smiled out of sheer happiness at the sight of that little logo.
"Those are not real", I choked out amidst the haze of pain that had been steadily working its way across my brain, gasping slightly for effect as the robber dug the weapon deeper and deeper into my forehead. Ever so slowly sliding my left hand towards the back portion of my belt.
The gun stopped drilling into my head quite quickly at that statement, as the robber took a quick step back from me, a confused look on his face as he did so. "Whats did you say?" he asked, keeping the toy he carried trained directly on me in a most threatening manner.
I slowly rose from my chair, unclipping a small hand sized rod of metal from the back of my belt as I stood. I took a moment to wipe away the blood from my forehead, before beginning my methodical trek towards the robbers, snorting in amusement as all three of the idiots turned their would be weapons on me, and in what I assumed was a threateningly manner, pulling the hammers back on their respective pistols.
"Whatever you have in your hand, drop it right now boy", one of them demanded taking a few steps away from the front counter as he spoke, stopping only a few paces from behind his comrade, "else we cap your as right here."
Seeing they were not going to try and take the weapon from me, I took the opportunity to slip my right hand around to the other side of my belt and gripped the other piece of metal it found.
"Ohh sorry did I stutter?" I mockingly taunted, taking another few step forwards, and snapping the collapsible baton outwards, extending it to the full twenty one inch length. "I said, those guns you have are not real. However this? This is very much real."
Seconds passed. Then a minute. Then what felt like five more. Lord know how long it really was, but after what felt like ages, one of the robbers FINALLY decided to attack.
Robber number one in all his drunken glory, was either the first to recognize the threat or simply the first to react. Needless to say his next actions were quite ineffective, however whether it because of the liquid courage coursing thorough his veins, or because he was the dumbest of the group, I will never know. His ferocious attack, consisted entirely of stepping forwards, leveling his "toy" at my head, and begining to scream all manner of profanities at me. Nothing even creative, just stupid little threats like asking me if wanted to die, if i felt this job was worth it, to put the weapons down or my brains would be painted across the bar, blah blah blah blah blah. It truly was an impressive display of stupidity.
His rant was cut very short however when his wrist found itself becoming very acquainted with the long end of my baton. After that his little triad quickly morphed it screams of pain, though that dose tend to happen when your wrist is nearly broken into itty bitty pieces. The screaming however ended fairly quickly to, as I took the opportunity to dive forwards with another swing, that connected solidly with the side of his head effectively knocking the poor bastard out cold.
"Tch" I muttered, now directing myself towards the other two robbers, pulling my right hand out from behind my back, examining the heavy rings of metal that were now attached too my knuckles, to make sure they were fitted properly. "Hopefully you guys put up a bit more of a fight", I uttered as my stance was redirected towards the remaining two gents.
Robber number two was thankfully quicker to pick up on the threat this time around, and decided he would take matters into his own hands. Stepping forwards with a broad downwards swing, he appeared to be attempting to take me down with a massively choreographed pistol whip, that or maybe he just tripped, couldn't really tell the difference right then to be honest.
Taking a step back to avoid the wild swing, I brought my baton down in a sweeping arc, connecting with his toy as he swung down past me, knocking the pistol completely out of his hand, before stepping into his now open guard and delivering a vicious right hook to his jaw as he followed his own swing through. He crumpled to the floor seconds latter to join his fallen weapon and comrade.
"schink"
I stopped cold at the sound of a knife begin drawn. The third robber as it turned out, seemed to have brought along back up, in the form of a rather large combat knife. He pointed it directly at me, seething in anger as he screamed incoherently in my direction.
"DON'T FUCKIN COME ANY CLOSER! OR ILL CUT YOU UP YOU FUCKIN BASTARD! ILL DO IT! IM CRAZY MAN! FUCKING CRAZY!"
He had no stance, no form, no back up, no anything really. The only threat he really posed to me was if he got in a lucky fatal hit. Granted looking back on that night so far, my luck had been anything but stellar so maybe trying it was not the best idea.
I lowered my stance and took a few steps back from him, giving him the space he needed to leave. Still pointing the knife at me he slowly, step by step made his way towards the exit, until finally throwing open the door and bolting out into the night, taking with him nothing but his toy gun and the clothes on his back.
No money, no bottles, no merchandise. A perfect save if you ask me.
The sound of a door opening me drew me from my thoughts, as I turned just in time for my boss to see me standing in her bar, with two concealed weapons in hand and two "paying customers" on the ground next to me.
"Fffffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..."
This is a new writing style I'm trying out so please review and or leave comments on how you liked it.
Cheers X)