2.2 Enter The Everyman

Gold-Diggers wasn’t the usual type of joint John Simmons liked to frequent. The beer was good, some of the least watered down in the entire Divide, but the entertainment just wasn’t his style. All the Latinos and black girls just weren’t his style. Give him a blonde with big boobs rather than this booty-shaking any day.

He shrugged the complaint off as he downed another Michelob in two gulps. He tapped on the counter and the bartender hustled another glass out of the tap. At least the drink is good, he reminded himself. And with the tab covered by the locals, the price is definitely right.

John enjoyed his task as the people’s Everyman. He enjoyed getting free drinks, he enjoyed the attention of his fans, and he most definitely enjoyed the ass-kicking his job entailed. For the first time in his life, he felt almost happy with who he was. And it scared him.

He finished his current beer, his tenth of the night, and signaled the bartender for the next. The bartender’s eyes narrowed a bit probably at the thought of all the free beer he was serving, but he served it up anyway. John looked down in to it and contemplated just how much his life had changed since the early days of the Divide.

He didn’t like thinking about that. He took another swig of beer and silently wished Pinaretti would find her way here. The city councilwoman had kept her job from the days back when it was a legitimate position in Detroit right through the reigns of both Mr. Mayor and the Antagonist. She was good at her job, and even those opportunistic, evil bastards recognized it. Unfortunately for them, she also served as his source of information on the comings and goings of the current political circles. In exchange, he happily protected her constituents as judge, jury, and executioner of anyone who would dare attack their thirty-five blocks.

And the sex with Jan was damn good too.

Unfortunately for Everyman, thoughts of Antagonist and sex made him even more depressed. He couldn’t help but think of Barbara, his bitch of an ex-wife. Most guys only had to deal with hatred issues when it comes to divorce, but not me. I have to deal with her, her psycho, city-controlling boy-toy, his minions, and my brainwashed little boy.

Vic, I’m sorry, kiddo. A better dad would never have let that happen to you.

John grunted and downed his beer. He pounded on the bar to get another beer sent his way.

God damn Jan needs to hurry her ass up, he thought.

He felt naked skin brush against his arm as someone sat down in the seat next to him. He glanced over as the new arrival ordered a shot of Jack.

He found himself looking at one of the booty-shakers from on stage, and damn, did she have a lot of it to shake. A light skinned black girl in a garish red wig, a cut-off t-shirt that must have been taped on to her chest, the usual shiny faux-gold jewelry, and a pair of coochie-cutters that left the bottom half of her ass in view of the world.

He thought for a moment about what Jan might look like in that outfit. Damn nice. He grunted and shoved the thought away before returning to his beer.

The stripper apparently wasn’t done with him. She shoved him hard in the arm. Had he expected the blow, John could have easily shrugged it off, but coming from nowhere it pushed him off balance on his stool. He straightened one leg to stop himself from falling to the floor.

He pushed back his first urge to attack and turned to look at the girl.

“Hey, you dissing me and my girls? Cuz I don’t take well to any little white boys coming in here and not at least going to the trouble to make sure me and my sistahs get paid. You feel me?”

“No, I don’t feel you, lady. I don’t give a shit about you or your skanky ass friends. I came here to have a drink. Do you ‘feel that’?”

“Look here, bitch-boy. I don’t care who your ass be, big mucky-muck local hero or whatever. You dis me and my girls and I will kick your ass.”

John leaned over and looked at her shorts. He smiled a drunken grin. “I think it would be way easier for me to hit yours. Now get the hell out of here.”

He started to turn back to his drink just as the girl brought her shot glass hard in to his face. The blow caught him flat-footed and he fell back and out of his seat. He landed hard on his own ample but far less attractive posterior.

“I told you not to treat me and my girls like that. Now I’m going to have to beat your bitch ass.” She yanked one of the charms that dangled from her bracelet free. John watched in shock as the charm suddenly enlarged in to a full-sized nunchaku.

John rolled away as the stripper brought the nunchuks down where he lay only moments before. Tile splintered on the floor. John glanced back towards the bar where his own weapon still sat propped against this side of the table.

His vision came back up just in time to see the nunchuks swing back his way. He threw up his left arm as a sacrifice. He felt the bones shatter as the stripper’s weapon struck. He instantly willed the pain away.

John quickly skimmed his body back across the rapidly clearing floor. Using his good arm, he pushed himself easily back to his feet. His steady drinking now over a minute gone, he could feel his body already erasing its effects. Normally he hated his inability to sustain a good drinking buzz but in this case he thanked his lucky stars.

“Bitch, you just made a big mistake,” he said. He raised his remaining good arm in a boxing stance.

“The name’s A, Everyman. Just A. You remember that when your ass is sitting in the hospital in the morning.” She lunged forward. Everyman shook his head and wished he could have just one night of peaceful drinking.

No, I don’t, he thought. I love this shit.

Once again, it was time to kick a whole lot of ass. Literally.