I step into the small pub to see that it's as seedy on the inside as it is on the inside; I pull of my gloves and put them in the pocket of my jacket, zipping it up, as I walk to the bar. A drunk-looking ass hole who's probably about sixty or so smiles weakly and makes a grab for my ass--he's on the ground before he realizes that I've just crushed his fingers; I let him go and continue walking. Sitting down and opening my jacket, I order a double Vodka on the rocks; it's uncomfortably warm in the pub, so I remove my jacket and lay it across the table as the bartender sets my drink down. Downing it quickly, I order another one and make sure my gun is positioned within easy reach--as usual; the drunk from a few minutes ago sits down next to me, facing me on his stool. His breath is worse than a dumpster, and the rest of him reeks so bad that I wrinkle my nose in disgust. The man's speech is slurred as he speaks.

"You thin' you're a lil' toughie, doncha? You're nuthin' but a betch--you broe my fingers, you little wench. Whatcha gonn do 'bout that--ehh?"

I glance at the man only briefly before my drink is set down, then ignore him; I down about half of this one before setting my glass down. The man speaks again, louder this time.

"I said, whatcha gonn do 'bout it? HUH?"

I turn my head only slightly toward the man. "I'm going to break the rest of your hand in about two seconds if you don't leave me alone. Got that?"

The man doesn't like my answer. "You can't do anything to me! You're not gonn do an'thin' ta me, hea? I'm gonn kii you!" The man grabs my arm, which I twist out of; I land an uppercut to his jaw and an undercut to his nards. He crumples to the floor, crying like a baby; his voice grows increasingly louder, eventually forcing the bouncers to physically escort him from the pub as I sit back down.

"You can't do this! I'm impornand! I'll sue! This isn' righ! I'll come back! Jus' you wait, you filthy bitch! I'll fuckin' kill you--" The man's slurred and violent speech is cut off by the door slamming shut practically in his face; I down the last of my drink and leave a twenty on the table. I grab my jacket and leave the pub, sidestepping the drunk easily and heading for my bike. The man makes to follow me, but stops as a group of men coming from the other side of the parking lot head toward me. I flip my jacket on and rest my hand on the butt of my Beretta as I continue walking, watching the men warily...

HI ARE U WANT TO PLAY WIT ME

As I reach my bike, the men reach me; there are four of them, all large and imposing. They could certainly stand to skip a few meals, and one of them smells so heavily of cologne he might as well be swimming in it; it's the cologne-wearing idiot that decides to approach me.

"Hey, babe--doin' anything special tonight?"

Me: "No, you?" I keep my hand on my gun.

The man grins. "Nothin'--though you might be able to change that." He winks. "Ol' Mike will set you straight, if you like."

Me: "I have a better idea: why don't you go fuck yourself and I can continue on my way. What do you say?"

The man's smile fades; he no longer sounds cool. "I don't think that was very nice, babe." He starts to approach me; I open my holster and flip off the safety on my gun--he glances at it and grins again. "Now you wouldn't really use that, would you, babe?"

I smile. "No, you're right." I put the safety back on and close my holster again; my smile fades. "I wouldn't waste a bullet."

The man scowls and lunges for me, but I'm quicker; a flying roundhouse connects my left boot with his jaw, resulting in a loud crack. The others lurch forward, one of them with a switchblade; grabbing his wrist and twisting it, he drops the knife and screams. I break his nose with my right hand while sidekicking one of the others; both fall back as the fourth man aims a blow at me. I grab his hand and crush it, twisting the fingers around so that he's on one knee and his elbow is pointing down. A kick to his jaw shatters it and sends the man flying to the ground; the others back off--they're scared. The last man manages to get up and they all run off, screaming curses and disappearing into the night. No one tries to rape me--no one. I do up my jacket, put on my gloves and helmet, rev up my motorcycle, and speed off; I've had enough action for one night...