Red Team

Lt Marshal Wicks sat in a bar and swirled the whiskey in his glass. It was some fancy vintage from 2969. Considering how shady the establishment was, it was probably stolen. Of course the bartender could have lied about the vintage, but at seven feet, and with shoulders that rivaled a bears, he found that unlikely. He emptied his glass and reached for the bottle when a reporter wearing too much make up appeared on the tv screen above the bar.

"We have just recieved word that General Arcurtus Duval has been assasinated by Elidyan religious-"

The bar went quiet as everyone froze for a second. The silence was only broken by the drunk next to him at the bar.

"Serves that bastard right!" he screamed at the tv waving his beer on shaky legs.

"Sit down, and take that back." said Wicks with a side long look before draining his glass again.

"Or what?" grunted his buddy as he flicked out a knife.

Wicks bearly glanced at the knife before draining the last of the whisky in one swig then taking the empty bottle across the mans head. The man toppled over with bits of glass pertruding from his face. He turned to the first drunk and caught his fist. The drunks' eyes widened as Wicks back handed him hard enough to break his jaw. A third man began to stand up until the Lt. fixed his stare on him.

"What's your problem?" growled the bartender.

"Both these men have committed acts of treason." without another word he unholstered his side arm and shot them both.

Wicks turned to the bartender and paid for his drink. He left the bar not even glancing down as he stepped over the bodies.

He pushed his earpiece into place.

"I'm already on my way. Contact the rest of the team."

Marshal replaced the earpiece in his pocket and walked over to his car. The door unlocked as his thumb touched the handle.

"Welcome back Sir."

He ignored the cars A.I. and pressed the ignition.

The End

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