Chapter 4: Punching the Bear
It's been a while, around 2 years to be exact, since I've pretty much done anything on SF and since I'm somewhat bored . . . and tired . . . as having woken up at 2200 Friday and typing this at about 1300 Sunday . . . I've decided to try my hand at making some more chapters for the small story I've made.
I will admit, when I re-read the past chapters, I felt somewhat embarrassed as I noticed a bunch of stuff that didn't seem to flow properly and could do with some syntactical corrections. And then some stuff just seemed to be cheesy as hell in my opinion. Hopefully having just graduated High School with having taken English classes like College Prep Writing will help my stay away from being trite in what I write.
Just as a side note, I was I think only a sophomore when I wrote the past chapters and hadn't taken anything in the way of writing classes. I am 18 as of July 5, 2011 so I can be here on SF, legally that is if there is the 18 and older policy. And would having my mom's consent of allowing me to be on here have made it acceptable to be on SF when I was 15? I mean that as a joke put in all honesty, she is fine with it.
For the story, I want to try and make it grittier and what not. I don't know how to explain it, too tired, but the changes might be noticeable if there happen to be any. Still just coming up with things as I move forward.
So I'm just going to stop my sleep-deprived induced rambling now before I go off on a random tangent and this is no longer based around possibly returning to story-writing and becomes . . . err . . . I don't know, fuck it . . . I'm just gonna drink the rest of my 2 liter of Dr Pepper and start the chapter.
It had been a couple of hours since Ja-Daar went to the 100 Rads bar while Du-Ja bartered for supplies with the artifacts. He passed the time by chatting with some of the patrons about what had happened earlier in the day in the abandoned village and what had happened to Mike. Most of the patrons expressed admiration for what Ja-Daar had lived through being how unnatural an event it was. Although to be honest, most things in The Zone couldn't be considered natural to begin with.
The patrons slowly dispersed and went back to whatever it was they were doing before taking an interest in Ja-Daar's story leaving him alone to watch TV and wait for Du-Ja to return.
A heavily intoxicated man stumbled his way over to the bar and sat on the stool to the left of Ja-Daar. Ja-Daar didn't think anything of him, just another low-life trying to possibly drown his misery with booze. The drunkard leaned over to Ja-Daar, tapped his shoulder a couple of times and tried to speak to him, his speech was slurred from the vodka he was having.
"Yeah . . . sorry but I didn't catch that. What do you want?"
The drunkard took a moment to think to himself about what it was he wanted to talk about, finally remembering and letting out a burp, to much of Ja-Daar disgust, before trying to talk.
"I. . . I heard your story. . . that you were telling about. *Hic* Something about. . . being controlled or some such shit. You. . . you draches are all the same. Comin' up with stories. . . to make you *Hic* look good."
He was starting to make Ja-Daar feel uncomfortable and irritated by what he was going on about.
"I can't staaannd your type. Your nothing but a. . . but a bunch of mutant freaks. Allowed to wander around. Hell, *Hic* if we we're out there. . . in the. . . a. . . the. . . The Zone! I *Hic* shoot you dead right quick."
Ja-Daar was regretting his decision of coming to the 100 Rads. All this drunkard had his mind on was insulting and threatening Ja-Daar for being a drache. What pleasant company to be associating with, a bloodsucker would be better company at best.
"What? *Hic* You too afraid and. . . and busy hiding. . . in your scales to talk back to me?
Ja-Daar motioned for Barkeep to come over to him.
"Yes Ja-Daar, need help with him?"
"Yeah. . . it would be nice. I've already though of something though."
Ja-Daar lowered his voice so the drunkard couldn't hear him and told Barkeep his plan.
The drunkard set his empty vodka bottle onto the bar.
"Hey! Hey uh. . . Barkeep! Eh. . . could you. . . uh. . . get me another bottle? I could a *Hic* sworn *Hic* this was . . . full. . . a moment ago. What the fuck?
"Alright. There should be some in the back room. I'll be back in a minute or two."
Barkeep headed into the backroom and closed the steal door behind him.
"So when are ya *Hic* gonna leave here you a. . . scaly bas" *Smash*
Ja-Daar didn't let him finish before grabbing the empty vodka bottle off the bar and smashing in across the drunkard face causing him to fall backwards off his stool unconscious.
The room became quiet as the patrons turned to see what the commotion was. Realizing it wasn't anything worthwhile to watch, the room rose to it's normal volume.
Ja-Daar let what was left of the vodka bottle clatter to the floor. He then quietly sat there watching the TV on the shelves of the bar hoping Du-Ja would arrive soon.
"Hey! You. . . you at the bar with uh. . . scales."
Ja-Daar was the only one with scales at the bar so he turned to face the person talking to him. It was a bear of a man, taller and much wider than him. He smelt of alcohol and it only made Ja-Daar wish that Du-Ja would quicken her pace and that he hadn't left his guns with her not that it really mattered. The 100 Rads had a policy of procuring firearms before entering so stupid people wouldn't do stupid things.
"You hurt my friend. I *Hic* know you did!"
Ja-Daar didn't have many options. Trying to fight the man would probably acquire him some broken limbs, and the man's size made it hard to get past him. His best bet was to try and use the man's drunk state to his advantage.
"So. . . this is your friend right here? Yeah I uh. . . don't really know what happened to him. He just fell. . . off the stool and hit the ground pretty hard. I tried to catch him but I was two slow. Sorry I couldn't have helped him for you?"
"You're lying! I. . . I saw. . . what you did. You *Hic* hit him. . . with the bottle!"
"Hey, I'm being honest here, I swear. . . I didn't do anything to him."
"*Hic* Oh yeah? Well. . . well how 'bout I don't do anything *Hic* to you?"
"I would prefer that. Yeah, that uh. . . that sound good."
The man grabbed Ja-Daar by his collar and belt, picking him up off the ground lifting him above his head before slamming him down onto a nearby table. The table broke apart from the force with Ja-Daar lying atop it on his back. The man stood over him as he slowly rolled over onto his hands and knees.
"So how *Hic* does it feel to. . . to fight someone who is uh. . . bigger than you?"
Ja-Daar was almost to his feet.
"*Cough Cough* I. . . I think. . . it *Cough* means. . . I . . . get to cheat!"
Ja-Daar grabbed a plank from the broken table and swung at the man connecting with the side of his head causing the plank to splinter into pieces. The man stumbled back a few steps but shook of what little pain there was.
"Oh fuck! You're. . . one tough. . . son of a bitch."
The man stepped up to Ja-Daar and grabbed him by the collar before head butting him, letting go afterwards so be could fall onto his back. Ja-Daar's vision was blurred from the hit and he didn't stand much of a chance while lying on the ground.
"Heh Heh Heh. *Hic* Maybe I should uh . . . uh. . . skin you alive or. . . or stomp on ya. Heh Heh"
Ja-Daar knew he was screwed and didn't bother trying anything else. His vision had partially cleared up and before the man did anything, a blurry hand from behind the man grabbed the hunting knife attached to his belt and drove it into the back of his neck. The man fell forward landing with a hard thud revealing that the blurry figure was Du-Ja. A sense of relief washed over Ja-Daar as he rubbed his eyes to wipe away any tears so he could see better.
"Well, I think you owe me quite a lot since I've saved your ass twice in one day. Now what the fuck did you start? Can you even walk?"
"I might need some help to walk properly so I don't randomly collapse you know."
"Fine. *Sigh* Get up! We need to get the hell out of here before any Duty Officers arrive."
Du-Ja helped Ja-Daar to his feet and put one of his arms around her shoulders to keep him from collapsing. They quickly left The 100 Rads and headed for some buildings that weren't often occupied in the Duty's Encampment.
"Hey Du-Ja wait. *Cough* Aren't our guns at The 100 Rads? I mean, how'd you get in there? *Cough* They couldn't have just let you waltz right in with them. How will we get them?"
"Did you honestly think I was going to lug around your crap along with my gear? Don't worry. I have it stashed in a safe place near here. So. . . I think now would be a decent time for you to tell me how you got into that fight of yours. Right?"
"Ohh. *Cough* As long as there safe and nearby I feel safe. So ah yeah. . . I'll tell you all about it.*Cough Cough* It'll make for a pretty cool story to tell friends in the future.
Ja-Daar explained how the drunkard was racist towards draches and even said he would kill any draches he'd come across in The Zone. Then explained how he knocked him out with his own empty vodka bottle, which in turn started the fight with the man that Du-Ja stabbed in the back of the neck.
"Well Ja-Daar, I guess it's a good thing that I have good ties with Duty. With any luck, I can meet with some of the higher ups that are good friends with my dad and they can keep you from getting killed by a firing squad."
"*Cough* That sounds like a great idea. Especially since I'm partial to the living. So can we go chat with them once I don't feel like shit?
"Sure. That should give time to let things calm down a little bit."
[Back at The 100 Rads]
A few officers had arrived and were surveying the damage from the fight. Nobody seemed to want to cooperate by telling who was responsible. Most people considered it best to not even be involved. It increased their chances of not pissing off the wrong people and being shot in the back of the head.
The lead officer stepped over the body of the dead man and walked over to Barkeep.
"So you wouldn't have happened to have seen what happened here right? I mean, you work behind the bar so it's not like you could have missed."
"Sorry officer but. . . I was in the backroom taking inventory. And you know those solid metals doors. You can't here jack shit happening on the other side of it. I'm sorry I couldn't have helped you at all officer."
"Well shit. Sorry about what happened here and maybe we can catch the person responsible for you. You think you would be interested in attending the firing squad to see them dealt with? Heh Heh Heh."
"Heh Heh. I think I'll pass on the offer officer. Got a bar to run and now clean up."
End Chap.
I don't know of any laughing phrases so I hope the last part of the chapter didn't sound awkward. Any constructive criticism is welcome as with pretty much any general feedback. Please note any grammar errors as I would love to fix them as they sort of drive me crazy when it comes to really simple fuck-ups.
I think I remember hearing something that suggested that people are more creative when they are tired as well. . . the world becomes more dreamlike. So I guess having been up for oh. . . about 40 hours has had it's benefits.