Bobby
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“Hey,” one of the mutts standing nearby said, finally finding his nerve. “Hey! You! This is our place, ya wanker. What are ya doin’ here?” He laughed, turned back to his smiling friends to show his manliness. They egged him on.
It was all Max could do not to laugh at the foolish idiot who believed himself a man worthy of speaking with such impunity to one of his betters.
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| Cover Art: Jamie Chase |
As before, Max ignored him and ordered another drink.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” He clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder.
Whatever reaction the idiot had been expecting, he got the opposite. Moving faster than the mutt’s eye could follow, Max spun around on the barstool, grabbed the man’s arm in his grip, and broke it in two as easily as if snapping a twig. The crack of breaking bone echoed through the still quiet bar.
Seconds later, the only sound he heard was the mutt’s screams as he cradled the now worthless arm dangling at his side.
Max turned back to the bar. “One more,” he told the bartender as if nothing else had happened.
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