It was a long time since Finnick got to see the World's End opening. First the musicians for the night would arrive at around 4PM, at least those that wanted to play, Mike was very strict with prepping time for the bands. Then the cook would arrive at around 5PM and the kitchen sounds would start to challenge the tuning of guitars, trumpets, bass and other instruments. At exactly 5:30PM Reason would arrive and take a pint of a strong dry stout, staple of the house. At 6PM the first clients would be let in and the songs would start to play. That didn't mean, though, that they would be served, as the servers would only start to work at around 7PM. They could always walk to the counter and order a drink, Mike would gladly serve them.
That wasn't the proper etiquette of the World's End, though. The pub was famous for three things: being the gathering place for the lowest scum in the city; amazing jazz and blues bands; and being a place where anyone could have a day's work. Every morning Mike would train applicants and, those that seemed capable of sustaining a smile for the 10 hour shift and not piss themselves over serving a crowd of crooks and rogues were good to go.
Finnick played with his piña colada, that was Mike's idea of a healthy meal in his pub and all he would get that night. The stitches in his lip stung whenever he would try to talk or smile, so he decided to do neither for the night. At least that was his idea, Lucy thought otherwise.
"... that was when dad said 'You ain't gonna desecrate this house any further young mis' and kicked me out. Mom didn't even try to defend me…" She stirred her coffee, tinkling the edges of the cup.
"Hm." Grumbled Finnick.
"Sooo…" Lucy pulled a small round mirror from her purse and checked her make up. "How did you and Mike meet?"
"I…" Why was she there again? Oh, yeah, Mike asked her to care of me… "Helped him… set this place up."
The mirror clapped when closed, she seemed satisfied. "Was it when? Fifteen years ago?"
"Something... Around that." Reason would be better company… With every word his lip stretched, turned and the stitches pulled against his skin. Finnick sipped his drink, the faint taste of blood mixed with coconut and rum, he grimaced. Everything will taste like crap for a few days.
"It was quite the shock for us when Michael left home, I was 7 at the time…. Things were very hard back then, mom and dad scrapped to put food on our tables, but we managed, somehow…" Lucy sipped from her cup, the black liquid staining the fur around her mouth reddish. She licked her lips instinctively and smiled. "You could contribute a bit to the conversation, you know? We are stuck together for this night and all." She crossed her legs, her blue jeans brushing against themselves as her legs fitted one over the other.
Finnick thought on smiling back, but it wasn't worth the effort. "I could always leave, you know?"
"Yeah, right, like if you had somewhere better to be. Is there a Ms Finnick waiting for you back home?" Lucy took his cup and sipped from it. "Wow! Mike aced this!" Lucy stood up in her stool and waved for Mike's attention. "Hey! Michael! Can you make one for me?" She shouted. "What? Don't say that to your lil' sis'!" She sat back, taking another sip from Finnick's drink.
"No, just myself." A new piña colada slid to the front of them, a tired looking polecat soon followed.
"Himself and a life of regrets." Mike collected some tiny beer mugs from a mouse next to them.
"My only regret right now is not having my bat." Finnick took another sip from his drink, it was getting warm already.
"How is the cut?" Asked Mike. He pushed the new drink towards Lucy, making clear that it was for her. She gleely picked it and started sucking from the red and white straw, a wide smile following right along.
"Hurts everytime I talk." Finnick gave him a half smile, sparing his hurt side.
"Drink some more, it will make it numb." Mike poured a mug of beer for Finnick and turned his back, going to attend other paying customers.
Lucy picked up Finnick's mug and sipped from it. He gave a look at her, to which she shrugged. "I like beer."
"Figured." Finnick gave a large sip on his piña colada, ending it. He didn't dislike coconut, but that was a ounce too much coconut milk for his taste.
"Now, for real, how did you meet Michael?" She crossed her legs again, turning her torso towards him. " We were five years without any news of that sod, and then he calls ma' telling that he is all set up and will send us money from time to time." She drank some more, gathering her thoughts. "Look, I'm not complaining. That got me into school and all. Still… you look shady as hell for a guy that sells popsicles."
"Pawpsicles." Corrected Finnick, without even thinking about it. "How so?"
"Well, lets see, a small big headed fennec fox walks into a bar with a freaking baseball bat and threatens a guy that is straight up a drug dealer. Which is an ocelot, twice his size. If that wasn't enough the guy comes the other day with a cut on his mouth and Michael, asshole-let-his-family-think-he-is-dead Michael, takes care of him without a second thought and is feeding him for a day. Does that even ring a bell to you?" She angrily sucked her straw.
The music came to a stop. All clapped, even if a bit half-hearted, and they joined the crowd. Lucy fried him with her eyes, not even a shade of her relaxed and playful self left to be seen. The clapping stopped and a new musician went upstage, a single deer with a saxophone. Once all went silent she started to play a cheery melody.
Finnick turned his back to the bar and faced the center of the pub. He pointed at a table at the edge of the hall. "You see those two polar bears?"
"The ones in sweatshirts?" Asked Lucy, a bit confused.
"Yeah, they are Big's men, Tundratown mafia." He then pointed to a teeny-tiny table close to the bar. "See those six rats right there?"
"Y-yeah." She answered, cautiously.
"They are from the Mentreleones, one of the oldest families in Little Rodentia. The one with a toupee is Lazy Eye Johnny, I saw him gut a pig once." Finnick turned and picked up his mug of beer. "It was weird." He sipped from it, looking at the deer saxophonist.
"I-I-I… why you are telling me all this?" Lucy held her purse with both paws, clearly nervous.
"Look kiddo, you are asking questions." He took another sip from his mug. "This is not the right place to ask questions, nor the right…" Finnick would've kept talking, but a giant white paw slapped the counter beside him, a huge polar bear hovering above him with his red and yellow sweatshirt.
"Mr Finnick." Said the bear behind a toothy smile.
"Hey Boris, how is it going?" Finnick heard him getting up from a mile away, but he expected the bear 'suddenly' appearing would startle the albino polecat a bit more. By her heart rate, he might've overdone it.
"Long time no see... Mr Finnick. Are you back in business?" The giant mountain of fur, muscle and nicotine took only a glance towards Lucianne, paying little attention to her.
"No. And keep your damn nose in Tundratown Boris, my life is none of your damn business." Finnick drank the rest of his beer and put the mug back on the bar counter.
Boris smiled at his bravado and laughed a slow and effortful laugh. "I see you still kept your attitude... Mr Finnick. Have it your way, but let me at least pay you a drink." The giant bear stood straight and shouted. "HEY! MIKE! A SHOT OF VODKA TO GOOD OL' FINNICK!"
That turned some heads, Finnick noticed. The conversation in the rat's table stopped for a moment, all eyes pierced at him. He shrugged and picked his fennec sized shot of vodka. Finnick nodded to the polar bear and smiled, drinking the shot and slamming the the cup downwards back on the counter.
Boris went back to his table and Finnick relaxed his shoulders. He never felt comfortable close to bears in general, they were way too big and way too strong for him to able to do anything if matters came to it. "Did you know that polar bears are actually black?" Asked Finnick turning back to the counter, he had called enough attention already.
Lucy stared at him, mouth hanging open. She finally got back to her senses and hyperventilated a bit. "I want to hide in a hole…" She whispered, sinking her claws in her knees.
Finnick held her cup close to her, offering the straw. She complied and sucked from it, taking a large gulp. She brushed her left paw over her face, pressing one of her temples. "How involved is Mike in all this?" She asked, almost without breath.
"This is the safest place in town. No one can carry weapons in here, no violence is allowed and no selling of anything. This is a neutral place where truces, areas of influence and all the political bullshit that moves the underworld can happen without problems." Finnick jumped from his stool to the floor, signaling for her to follow. "Again, you are asking the wrong questions and way too many."
"But I…" Babbled Lucy., climbing down her stool.
"You are going to live here now sweetheart, you have to get the hang of things. But you are a smart kid, so you will do alright." Finnick smiled, feeling his stitches pull. He guided them upstairs, where a small corridor stretched. There were four doors: storage, guest room, Mike's room and bathroom. At the end of the hallway a small round window aimed to the front of the pub, there Finnick led them both. He pushed open the window and let the seabreeze in, he liked the smell of salt that came in with the night.
The streets were silent and only the murmur of the bar downstairs could be heard, along with the faint sound of music. A blue car approached from the left corner of the window, parking in front of the pub. Then the deer saxophonist appeared exiting the pub, carrying her case over her shoulder. Her ride. Thought Finnick.
She opened the car door and a salvo of pellets came flying out of it. Plec plec plec plec plec plec plec. He could hear. Reason. He realized. Four mammals came out of the car, one holding a small black object, the others planks and hammers. Finnick froze there for a moment, baffled with what has happening.
"What is going on Finnick?" Lucy shook his arm, getting more and more desperate. "Finnick?! What is going on?!"
As if coming out of a trance Finnick shook his head. He hang his head outside and looked down, in time to see a warthog opening the pub's door and throwing the black object in. A bomb. Someone is bombing the bar! The warthog quickly slammed shut the door, his companions immediately hammering plaques of wood over it. Reason was unconscious, drooling on the ground.
He grabbed Lucy's paw and ran as fast as he could, but only three steps in a deafening bang sounded. He fell to the ground, his ears ringing. Lucy lifted him and guided his steps downstairs, he felt dizzy. There was no fire in the hall, but as his hearing came back he could hear screams, growls, snarls, grunts and the breaking of glass, wood, bone and flesh. The floor, walls and ceiling were stained blue and a pandemonium of claws, fang, horn and blood reigned uncontrollable. She screamed at the sight of the carnage.
Finnick pulled her paw, he didn't want to catch any attention from the ravaging animals. They entered Mike's office and Finnick pushed a chair barring the door. Lucy sat on the floor, a blank expression on her face.
Finnick sat beside her, lost in thought and to the incessant pain in his inner ear. This is bad… Really bad… He picked up his cellphone and slowly dialed.
"911, what's the address of your emergency?" Sounded the voice at the other side.