I walk away from the truck and toward the only place where anyone is, a
bar. Although I am somewhat resentful that the last truck driver left
me in this one-horse town, I am also grateful that he didn't try
anything with me, unlike many others. As I enter the bar, I hear a
fresh burst of excited yelling and immediately discover the cause:
there is some sort of fight going on in a cage, and one man was just
taken out, unconscious. Looking at the man remaining in the cage, I
feel a chill run down my spine. Why anyone would get into a cage with
him, I don't know. It probably has a lot to do with alcohol. He is huge
and hairy and blond but his back is turned toward me so I can't see
anything else. Eventually another man enters the ring, even bigger than
the blond, but I have no doubts that the blond will win anyway. The
fight doesn't take very long: a minute or two of the challenger
winning, then two punches by the blond, and the challenger goes down. I
now have a good look at the blond, and my initial impression is
reaffirmed. His eyes are wild, and as he grins evilly I almost expect
to see fangs poking out. No one else is stupid enough to challenge him
so he is done. He comes slowly to the bar, where I am sitting, longing
for the tip money in a small jar on the counter and hearing snippets of
news about mutants from the TV. He sits down and orders a drink, and I
am fascinated. It's not like I'm attracted to him, but still I can't
keep my eyes off of him. Soon, however, something happens. The last
challenger, stumbling and sounding piss-drunk, accuses the blond of
cheating, and calls him a mutant. He whips out a knife and I
instinctively yell, "Look out!"
He spins around and knocks the guys to the floor, snarling. As he does, huge sharp fangs are revealed. "Hold it, freak!" says the bartender, a shotgun to the blond's head. The blond moves faster than I would have thought possible, grabbing the gun with one hand and breaking the barrel with pure muscle power. He stomps off, and I quickly follow. Don't get me wrong - I don't intend to make him my new best friend - but he is a mutant and I want to watch him leave, at least. As soon as I step out of the bar, however, I feel a powerful hand cover most of my face, and another wrap around my waist and lift me up. My last feeling as I go black from lack of oxygen is that the blond has kidnapped me, judging by the smell of wet fur tingeing the overbearing smell of diesel.
He spins around and knocks the guys to the floor, snarling. As he does, huge sharp fangs are revealed. "Hold it, freak!" says the bartender, a shotgun to the blond's head. The blond moves faster than I would have thought possible, grabbing the gun with one hand and breaking the barrel with pure muscle power. He stomps off, and I quickly follow. Don't get me wrong - I don't intend to make him my new best friend - but he is a mutant and I want to watch him leave, at least. As soon as I step out of the bar, however, I feel a powerful hand cover most of my face, and another wrap around my waist and lift me up. My last feeling as I go black from lack of oxygen is that the blond has kidnapped me, judging by the smell of wet fur tingeing the overbearing smell of diesel.