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“How long do you reckon it’ll take them?” I ask.
“Hopefully, not long. When they come over, let’s have some fun and make out like we’re scared or some shit.”
“Then BAM! Smackdown.”
He tips his bottle toward me, and I tap mine to his.
There’s a few years between us, but even in school, it didn’t matter. It was the two of us against everyone else. We were unbeatable. When we fight with the club, it’s rare you have to push yourself for survival. Brothers have your back, and fights are easy.
Tonight, we’re outnumbered, not knowing if more will be called in. We may only be two men, but we’ve got a shitload of rage and frustration to unleash.
The air shifts around us, and the usual punters stop their conversations.
Relying on our instincts, we ready ourselves for anything.
“Look, brothers. We’ve found ourselves two Lost assholes who wanna die tonight.”
It’s fucking hard to stop myself from laughing. These pricks are hilarious.
As one, Leo and I turn around and lean back against the bar. He looks over at me and asks, “You wanna die tonight, Jay?”
“It wasn’t in my plans. I mean, I’m pretty much untouchable, so it’d be a pain to take me out. What about you? Do you have time to die?”
Our sarcasm riles them up, and they form an arch around us. Two of them are holding their pool cues, with one of them tossing his from hand to hand.
“We outnumber you assholes.”
Standing straight, Leo broadens his shoulders and lifts his chin.
“And still, you’re no fucking match for us.”
Punters move away from their tables. I take a quick look over my shoulder to see Josie backing away and reaching for the door up to her apartment above the bar.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” one of them spits before launching himself forward.
Before he can swing his arm back, Leo throws a right hook, knocking the guy to the dirty floor.
How are we meant to take these guys seriously when they drop like flies?
Mere seconds after their brother goes down, the bar descends into chaos. Fighting with Leo for so many years, we know to keep back-to-back, and go hell for leather. They come at us one by one, and that’s their biggest mistake.
The fucker lands a heavy blow to my jaw, but if he thinks it’s enough to drop me, he’s wrong. It only spurs me on. We drop another two Rat fucks, and the remaining three finally get that they have to come at us as one.
One of them swings the pool cue. Seeing it coming, I duck, pulling Leo down with me, and then we jump into the fight. Punches are thrown. Beer bottles are grabbed and smashed onto heads on both sides. At one point, I end up on the floor, facedown, my cheek sticking to a beer stain. Getting hold of a chair, I smash it down over a Rat who’s hanging off the bar.
Stumbling back, I see Leo stomping his boot down on a Rat’s head. Besides the blood rushing between my ears, all I hear are the moans and groans coming from the Rats. It’s the sound of victory.
The Rat over by the jukebox is struggling to get to his feet, then gives up and pulls out his phone.
I’m a cocky son-of-a-bitch, but even I know we can’t take on many more—not on our own.
Grabbing Leo, I drag him away from the unconscious Rat beneath his boot.
“It’s time to go, brother.”
Josie will hear our engines as we leave and return down to the bar. She’ll get rid of the riffraff and put the bar back to rights.
“You hurt at all?” I ask, assessing my own damage.
