3.2 187

As Death Ray pulled himself from the broken remains of the bar, he heard the sound of clapping from behind him. He turned and felt the bile rise in his stomach.

187 gave Ray a cocky grin. At only five feet seven inches, even with his heavy musculature, the young Latino didn’t look like much. But the blood red symbiote embedded in his bare chest told those in the know otherwise. The strange creature blanked 187 with an invisible field that absorbed kinetic energy and channeled it back in to 187’s own muscles. His weapons were nowhere to be seen; he wore only slacks, an open shirt, and dark sunglasses. A step or two behind him stood Gena Rator, his aide, companion, and a metahuman herself. She could infuse anyone with increased strength and energy or enhance their metahuman abilities. Right now, as she was dressed in a slinky gold number with four inch stilettos to match, she served as little more than the redhead eye candy on 187’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you just a sorry fucking sight?” 187 said. “I mean seriously. Venus fucking de Milo did this to your ass? When the fuck did you become such a sorry son of a bitch. You trying to make me think I came back to the D for nothing?”

Death Ray glared daggers at him, but he could say nothing in return. He knew 187 from back in the day, back before he ever met Bob Cat. He remembered their partnership. He remembered the bastard stabbing him in the back.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re as tough a bastard as you are, Ray. I know you will be past all these weak ass injuries in the next couple of days. Damn good thing, as otherwise I might not get the chance to take you out now. Wouldn’t want my big return to D-town to be for nothing, would I?” 187 took one swaggering step forward. “I’ve been waiting a long ass time to get another shot at you. But I sure ain’t going to take it now. I want you at one hundred percent when I kick your ass. No excuses from either one of us this time.”

Ray grimaced. His leg was broken, but he ignored the pain as he hobbled towards 187. 187 came forward as well, and the two men met in the middle of the empty bar. They stood just over a foot apart, staring down one another. Neither man would budge for a moment.

187 slowly grinned. “You ain’t getting me to fight you now. I’m picking the place and the time on this one. You hear me?”

Ray nodded. He had no other choice. If 187 wouldn’t fight him here, he didn’t have a way to make him.

“Figured you’d see it my way, even if you don’t have that dumb-fuck Bob Cat around to do your thinking for you. Well, not conscious, anyway.” 187 chuckled as he looked over at Bob Cat, still crumpled unconscious on the floor of the bar. He turned and walked back to Gena. He turned and reached down to wrap his hand around her. It started on her waist, but quickly slipped lower.

“Now if you don’t mind, me and this hot young thing have a night out on the town ahead of us.” He pulled her back in to him and planted a kiss on the side of her neck. “And even more exciting things back at my loft.”

187 laughed again as he guided Gena out of the bar.

Ray walked over to check on his friend. He would see to Bob Cat for tonight. Tomorrow he would be back on the hunt for his old enemy. This time, he would make sure 187 would not walk away.