Preemptive StrikeMature

There was another thing to consider: he had no idea who the two leaders were in this little tete a tete. If he'd known who wore the Big Boy Pants inside this crummy little bar he might be able to leverage things away from bloodshed, but as it currently stood every set of eyes he looked at was identical to the next: full of rage, full of action.

Also, from his vantage point, it seemed as if he might be exactly in-between both sides, meaning there was no way to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, aside from vaulting the bar and hiding back there with the bartender until someone came back there and shot them both.

He leaned his neck to the right, popping it, and weighted his chances. He then leaned it to the left while someone with a thick Asian accent came up from behind and put a heavily-polished blade to Bootsy's throat, “Who the fuck are you, mister?”

The bartender had poured Bootsy's drink and was about to hand it to him, but paused with fright. Bootsy tried to settle him by calmly replying, “I'm just a guy trying to get his drink on, my friend.” His eyes never left the keeper's, and the next thing he knew the big guy had actually placed the heavy glass in his hand, the crystal was smooth and cool in his grasp.

The Asian guy behind him growled, “You ain't my friend, motherfucker,” and pressed the knife tip into Bootsy's throat just the tiniest bit to prove his point.

Bootsy had to agree, “That is true.”

In one simultaneous move, he shot the drink out with his left arm and wrapped his right around the Asian guy's knife hand, thereby incapacitating it. The crystal glass smashed into the side of the head of the guy sitting next to Bootsy, but unlike in the movies, where the glass explodes into a million glittering shards, the glass only cracked as it struck the seated man's eye socket. It was weakened enough, however, and Bootsy swung it hard across his body against the Asian guy's head, and this time it did explode, but not before embedding multiple lethal shards of crystal into the man's eyes and nasal cavity. Bootsy leaned off the bar stool and took control of the Asian guy's knife. It was a big-ass knife, and felt like it weighed about five pounds, but it easily cut deep into the Asian guy's neck when Bootsy shoved it in.

Even before that move was completed, Bootsy had already moved on to the next target, a man about eighteen inches away from the Asian guy who was just registering what had happened when Bootsy used the knife as a push pin and pegged the man's gunhand to his chest at the wrist, before he could draw. Bootsy used his momentum to carry himself behind the man and he used his free hand to relieve the man of the weapon he had tried to pull from inside a shoulder holster beneath his jacket. He quickly transferred the barrel upwards and pulled the trigger before pulling free to face the next target. The bullet caught the man just behind the chin and blew out the top of his head like a blood-spraying roman candle, and then the man fell to the floor in a convulsive heap.

The End

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