Post by Rotten Mark Keaton on Feb 27, 2020 13:43:47 GMT -6
The camera operator hustled across an intersection to catch up with an old man hunched over while walking, he secured himself from the frigid cold. A cigarette hung loosely from his cracked lips as he slightly turned to acknowledge the camera.
"Ah," He let out a puff of smoke and continued walking, "you again. Thought I told you that asshole owes me one thousand dollars and I didn't want to talk about him?"
He continued walking, his face red from the cold. The camera followed him relentlessly. He stopped and flicked his cigarette.
"Alright dammit, you won't go away until I talk. Let me tell you about an incident with Godzilla in 2009...."
June 15th, Toronto, Peterson's Bar and Grill
2009
The Peterson's Bar and Grill was unusually busy after a local championship boxing match had let out on a busy Saturday night. Smoke filtered out into the main floor from the designated smoking room, the small dance floor jam packed with scantily clad women in their twenties and thirties. The cheap tables scattered around the perimeter of the dance floor were occupied with drunk patrons, many very unsavory considering the area the bar was located in. For bar owner Jimmy Peterson, it was a recipe for disaster, yet he couldn't turn away so many paying customers. He watched his woefully understaffed waitresses trying to deal with the wave of customers demanding booze at the bar, his three undersized bouncers looking nervous nearby. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
It didn't take long for a spark to ignite an inferno, the spark being a Latino woman in a tight mini skirt running back to one of the tables full of drunk jocks, she claimed another young man on the dancefloor grabbed her ass. Everyone at the table egged on the boyfriend, who confronted the offender, swung and missed, knocking out an innocent bystander who could have passed as a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader, yet not old enough to even be at the bar. Multiple fights started on the dancefloor that spilled over to the tables, soon a dozen men were swinging away at each other, the bouncers having too much on their hands to deal with it.
The entrance to the bar opened......
Clunk, clunk, clunk....heavy work boots stomped across the wood floor past the bar, the giant denim clad man wearing torn work jeans, taking off his jacket and flinging it over the bar. His 7'2 body framed with 389 pounds of Godzilla tattooed muscles, his dirty tank top screaming to be a bigger size so it wouldn't be stretched to the limit. His bloodshot eyes and smell of vodka a sign that he wasn't expecting this call tonight, his drunken anger apparent on his face.
AC/DC's Thunderstruck continued to blare as a knocked out bouncer slid past his feet. The giant tattooed man stepped over him and grabbed one hooligan by the back of his shirt and threw him over a table, he immediately broke up another fight by double clotheslining two fighters and knocking then out. He blocked a flying wooden chair by destroying it with his firearm, a drunk attacker threw a punch at him, he grabbed the man's fist and used it to punch the man with his own fist several times, knocking him out. He inserted himself into a large group of fighters and started hauling them out of the bar like sacks of garbage.
The whole time, a heavily bearded man watched him from the corner of the bar in the shadows. The giant tattooed man was clearing up the night, it was time to act.
The bearded man stood up, took out a handgun and fired at the ceiling. Everyone screamed and clamored at the perimeter of the bar, hoping to secretly claw their way through the wall if they could. The bearded man walked up to the lonely giant on the dance floor. He pointed the gun directly at him. The music stopped.
"Because of you, my Betty divorced me. Said you were the best she ever had!" He wiped tears from his eyes.
The bearded man didn't let the giant talk, "Now I'm going to FIX the mess, you deserve to die you SON OF A BITCH!"
BANG!
The giant flinched, then grabbed the gun, broke the man's arm backwards, flipping him on the floor, then stomped on his head, knocking him out. Everyone was gobsmacked, not sure how to react to what they just witnessed.
The giant man half staggered over to the bar. He ripped his tank top off, revealing a hole in his shoulder and blood pouring out of it.
"Jimmy, give me some tweezers and a sewing kit."
The bar owner quickly found him what he wanted from the stock room, then watched in horror as the seven foot beast hauled the slug out of the bullet hole and left it on the counter, he grabbed the sewing kit and expertly stitched himself up.
"On top of my pay tonight I need to borrow a thousand bucks off of you too, I'm behind on my rent."
The Son of a Bitch, Mag Hyperion