Crime and Enjoyment

[Rictor]

Rictor stumbled into the Basking Ridge Pub at one in the morning, glancing around at the regulars with a fervent cadance. His paranoia had increased after the screwup with the Brotherhood...if that was really them at all. Was it some kind of police sting? Or worse, something involved with those Sentinel machines?

The bar patrons gave him wary looks as he made his way to the back of the bar, heading towards the pay phone. He had been walking for days now, traveling north from Cherry Hill, with little to eat and almost no sleep. He still had a few dollars in quarters jangling in his pockets, stolen from the last pay phone stop he made.

A few customers began to push back from the bar and their tables, but no one stood yet. A homeless man, as he seemed to them, could just be looking for a restroom, or could be seeking more devious - or disgusting - aims. But this homeless man didn't seem confused - desperate, yes, but not confused - and even worse, his eyes were cold and hard, as shifty as they were, and above all seemed dangerous.

[Rictor]

Rictor picked up the reciever and put a quarter in, listening for the click and then beginning to dial. He had stared at the worn and dirty Brotherhood card so many times he knew the number by heart. Just as the first ring sounded in his ear, a large hand came into view, slamming two fingers down on the hook, ending the call.

Rictor looked to the owner of the fingers, a tall overweight man with a two-day old beard and wearing a hat that said Owen's Towing. His eyes looked about thirty-five, but years of drinking made his face and stomach seem much older than that.

Rictor opened his mouth to yell, but the man held up a meaty hand and cut him off. "Listen, pal, why don't you just get the fuck out?" He smiled and shifted to the side, allowing Rictor a path by.

Rictor glanced beyond the man, where the majority of the other bar patrons were now standing. Many of them looked eerily similar to this man, but in varying ages. Several definitely seemed underage, but Rictor thought that in a small town like this, not even the bar owners would care if their pal's kids got a bit tanked with daddy on a Friday night.

"Yeah...," Rictor replied. "Sure." As deadly as Rictor might have believed himself to be (and as dangerous as he truly was), he didn't relish the idea of fighting a dozen drunk hicks on their home turf. He began to walk out, head down, and almost reached the door, when he heard a high-pitched whimper and looked to his right. He stopped, and the Owen's Towing man, who Rictor wasn't aware had been right behind him, bumped into him with his belly and chest.

Rictor looked into the dark corner of the bar, by the jukebox, where two twenty-odd year old men were "flirting" with a girl - flirting in a way that amounted to rape with a smile. Then Rictor noticed the two small antennae on the girl's forehead, just below the hairline.

Owen's Towing put a hand on Rictor's shoulder and pushed him slightly towards the door. "Yeah, what a freak, huh? She came in and tried to use the bathroom a few hours ago." He continued pushing Rictor towards the door, and Rictor stumbled along, still staring at the girl. "We're gonna show her a good time though, even if she's just a mutie bitch." He laughed heartily, and several of his drinking buddies did the same.

The girl continued making small noises, attempting to slap and pull away the invading hands coming from both sides. Rictor stopped and looked back at the Owen's Trucking man. "What did you call her?"

The man's smile dropped off his face. "A mutie bitch. You got an issue with that? Maybe yer a mutie too?" He pushed one beefy hand into Rictor's shoulder, intent on finally forcing him out the door.

Rictor snatched the man's hand mid-push and activated his power, instantly shattering every bone in the man's hand, wrist, and forearm. Owen's Trucking screamed and fell to his knees. He clutched his broken limb to his chest and looked to his friends for help with watering eyes.

"I'm not sure, pendejo. You tell me."

Rictor smiled down at the man as a dozen or so New Jersey men rushed at him, their hands balled into fists or holding bottles, their faces grim and eyes filled with hatred.

[Rictor]

The men came at Rictor fast and hard, and though he was weakened and injured, he was more than happy to oblige the bigoted drunkards. He was so tired of running, so tired of moving from place to place always looking over his shoulder, always sleeping in nervous spurts, that this moment was such a release of frustration and anger that it brought a huge wicked grin to the young mutant's face.

The first man to reach Rictor was a young blonde fellow wearing a wifebeater and a trucker's hat. He threw a wild, drunken punch that Rictor easily avoided. He moved to the side and reached out for the man's face. His fingers slid along the man's cheek - it would have been a tender motion if not for the situation and the terrible power that sent fractures ripping through the bones and knocking the man to the floor.

The second and third attackers moved almost in unison, attempting not to hit Rictor but to tackle him fully to the floor. Unfortunately, all Rictor had to do to remove them from the game was allow them to do so. Their shoulders collided with his own, and his hands went to either of their chest, destroying their sternums and sending the men crashing to the floor themselves, screaming in agony.

The quick disposal of four of their friends had obviously made the men angrier than ever, but the brutal attacks their pals had suffered had also given them pause. The eight men left standing crowded around Rictor in a semi-circle, screaming obscenities and slurs, yet none of them made a move forward, not even to help the four crying men on the floor.

Rictor held up his hands and waved them forward. "Come on, bolillos!" He laughed. "You're not afraid, are you, putas?"

Rictor began to laugh again, just as a baseball bat collided with his skull from behind, spraying a thin mist of blood into the air and making his vision go black.

[Rictor]

Rictor grabbed the bartop on his way to the floor, stopping himself from falling all the way. Black spots danced across his vision and he shook his head to clear them. He looked to his left and saw the crowd of men had advanced closer, yet were still uneasy in attacking him.

A break in the crowd opened and the assailant with the baseball bat came through. It was the bartender, Rictor recognized him easily enough, as he was the most inbred-looking pendejo in the place. His wiry frame and crooked teeth gave him a stupid and frail look, but attacking Rictor from behind with a weapon didn't take a great deal of intelligence or strength. Now he had come out from behind the bar, since Rictor had fallen out of reach, and was approaching the mutant directly.

The bartender turned to his customers and sneered at them. He then made a hawking sound in his throat and spat at Rictor's feet. "Lookit this sunmunbitch!" He walked forward a step, the bat slapping in his open hand. "On his knees from one hit and you bastards are too afrait to go after 'im?"

Murmured words and grunts of assent rippled through the remaining men. Rictor stood up slowly, his grip on the bar changing to a leaning-on-his-elbow stance.

The crowd advanced.

[Rictor]

((OOC: WARNING - this is going to be a very graphic, R-rated post!))

The men made no noise, save for their heavy breaths and slow footsteps, and Rictor could hear the old time jukebox click over onto the next record on the other side of the room. The mutant girl heard it too, and actually looked away from the fight to see what the noise was. She's so scared, Rictor thought. So scared.

Rictor pushed himself off the bar with his forearm, pummeling straight into three of the men in front of him. Two of them fell underneath his weight and he landed atop them; the other one he hit stumbled backwards and knocked a chair over, but stayed on his feet. Before the two men beneath him could move, Rictor reached up and grabbed each of their jaws in one hand. He activated his power, permanently destroying their lower faces and vibrating their teeth right out of their gums. One of the two passed out immediately, his eyes rolling up into his head, and the other rolled away from Rictor, gurgling and hacking in his throat as he choked on his own teeth.

A heavy boot collided with Rictor's back, catching him between the shoulder blades and sending him sliding face first across the floor. He bumped against a table and knocked several bottles to the floor, but none of them broke.

The other men rushed forward, finally realizing that sheer numbers and a mob mentality were the only things that would save the day. Rictor snatched up two bottles from where they lay and held them out to the men, turning his face away and shutting his eyes tight. The bottles exploded point-blank as two men leaned down to grab him. Both men crumpled to the ground, glass embedded in their faces and necks. Blood immediately pooled around their still forms.

Two others immediately took their place, continuing with the mob attack. They grabbed Rictor's shirt and hauled him up directly as another man slugged him in the stomach. The air rushed out of Rictor's lungs and he staggered, but the men held him tight. The wiry bartender with the bat came through the crowd, drawing his weapon over his right shoulder. As he began to tense up to swing, a thick mug flew over Rictor's head and collided with the bartender's skull, just below the hairline. The man snarled and the entire crowd, Rictor included, looked to see where the missile had come from. The mutant girl was standing, her face showing only terror, yet her eyes brimmed with hateful tears.

Rictor broke the grip of the two men holding him and lunged forward, grabbing the bartender's neck and turning on his power. The man's neck bulged and squirmed beneath the vibrations, his veins exploding and his trachea collapsing. Rictor released him and his head lolled unnaturally to one side, snapping from one shoulder to the other as he hit the floor.

Rictor snatched up the bat before anyone else could do so and took a heavy swing to his left, not aiming, but knowing he would connect with someone. One of the men who had hauled him off the floor caught the bat in his face. His nose smushed and his two front teeth chipped off and fell to the floor. He screamed and fell to his knees.

Rictor pulled the bat back to hit him once more, but a fist collided with Rictor's side and another boot hit him in the lower thigh. The two attacks combined to knock Rictor off balance, and to keep himself from falling he had to stumble awkwardly to his right. A man with a dark full beard and a flannel shirt tackled him bodily, bringing both of them down atop a table. He pinned Rictor quickly, grabbing his free left hand by the wrist and doing likewise with his right which still grasped the bat tightly. The man knew what he was doing, however, and grabbed Rictor's wrists close enough to the hand that Rictor could neither strike him with the bat nor shatter his wrists to free himself.

"Yeaah, fucker, you can't hurt us without your hands, can ya?" He laughed and brought down his head quickly, smashing it into Rictor's. The young mutant's head was firmly placed against the table, and the blow from the larger man's skull forcing his head backward felt like having two rocks strike him at the same time. Rictor's eyes rolled and he coughed, sending a thin spray of blood from his mouth and nose. The big man drew his whole body back once more as the other's gathered around, readying another headbutt. One of the other men punched Rictor in the chest, causing him to cough blood again, while another threw a shot at his head, catching him above the temple and sending his head snapping to the left.

As the big man began to bring his body down again, a hand caught him by the shoulder. He looked agrily to his right and the owner of the hand came from behind him. "Wait a sec, Earl," the man said. He dug deep into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew an object which he quickly snapped open - a five inch long hunting knife. "You got im, right? He ain't going nowhere."

The assembled crowd, about six left from what Rictor could see, laughed nervously. They were anxious and angry, their friends either unconcious, dead, or dying on the floor beside them. But it seemed that their anger would win out over and nervousness or sympathy as all of them waited to see what the man with the knife would do.

[Rictor]

The man with the knife approached closer and Rictor struggled harder against the big man atop him. The bigger man tightened his grip and leered down. "Gotchya now, ya freak!"

Rictor felt the bat yanked from his right hand. He tried once more to grab the big man's wrists, his own hands straining uselessly, trying to reach any part of the man's skin to hurt him, kill him, get him AWAY!

As soon as he thought it, the picture of the big man falling off of him in his mind, Rictor's body tensed up as stiff as metal. His muscles contracted painfully, his jaw slammed together, his teeth ground in their sockets. His eyes bulged and tears welled up. What's happening to me? he screamed inside.

Then Rictor's body changed again, it seemed to feel alive, full of energy and...power. The big man suddenly screamed and rolled off Rictor and fell to the ground, his bones crunching and grinding as he hit the floor. Rictor's entire body seemed to be on fire, but he felt no pain now, and all at once he realized what had happened - My entire body has my power now. The man's hands, legs, and pelvis had all been shattered as Rictor's body changed into a one-man earthquake.

Rictor sat up from the table quickly as the man with the knife slashed at him, his fun ruined and the opportunity to take his time over. The knife slashed into Rictor's shoulder just behind the collarbone, but only pushed in a quarter inch before breaking off from the handle and falling to pieces.

The man gawked at his broken weapon until Rictor backhanded him with his left hand - shattering the man's cheekbone and eye socket - while simultaneously kicking his right leg out and connecting against another man's knee with his shin, knocking the kneecap out of place and breaking the man's tibia and femur. Both men fell to the ground, joining the other ten wounded or dead barflies in agony.

Rictor stood and whirled on the remaining three men, all of whom held no more hatred or anger in their faces, only terror. The one immediatley to Rictor's left, the fattest man in the bar by far, made a break for the front door, but his fat little feet only carried him a step before Rictor clotheslined him, crushing his neck and severing his spine.

A moment later, the other two men were dead as well, their bodies broken and bloody, and Rictor was by the young girl's side. She withdrew from him as he approached, and he took no offense. He was a blood-covered monster who had brutally murdered a dozen men right in front of her. But he knew that he was something else as well, and he thought this second thing would win out in the end.

He extended a hand - which no longer trembled with the great power he had felt, no, that had passed as the last man died in his hands - and touched her on the shoulder. She didn't move towards him, but she didn't move away either.

"Come with me, okay?" he asked her. She stared blankly back at him, tears streaming from her eyes.

Rictor dropped the hand from her shoulder and looked over his own at the destruction he had caused.

"I'm Rictor."

A moment passed and she straightened a bit. She opened her mouth and then closed it, then opened it again and said, "I'm Julie."

"Do you want to get out of here, Julie?"

"Yes."

She stood and he helped her to her feet. The two walked through the destroyed bar, stepping over the dead and dying, and Rictor noticed very well that she never looked down, only at the door ahead of her. When they reached the door, she suddenly bolted straight through it and into the night air, gasping and sobbing. She fell to her knees in the gravel parking lot and put her hands to her face. Rictor stood by her side for a minute, then turned away and walked back to the bar.

Julie looked back at him and sniffed, then wiped her eyes. "Where are you going?"

"Uno momento."

[Rictor]

Rictor walked back into the bar and stepped over the body of the first man he'd killed. Most of the survivors had passed out by now, but some were still awake and moaning, and one even tried to grab Rictor's leg as he passed by. Rictor kicked him in the teeth and sent him crashing back onto the floor.

The angry young mutant systematically went to each body on the floor, living or dead, and went through their pockets, pulling out cash and credit cards from their wallets and stuffing them into his own jeans.

When he finished with this, he moved behind the bar and walked along the racks of alcohol, brushing his hand against the bottles, causing each of them to explode and spray liquid everywhere. Across the room, the jukebox clicked over again, and the vaguely latino beat of Billie Jean began to play.

Always liked this song, Rictor thought as he stopped shattering the bottles and began to grab whole ones, which he then lobbed across the room. Really good for a human...although maybe "human" isn't the right word.

Rictor walked out from behind the bar and snatched up a glass full of matchbooks at the end. He pulled one out and ripped off a match, then dropped the match into the glass. Matches and cardboard began to flare up in his hand, and he chucked the glass behind the bar, where it shattered and ignited the spilled liquor.

Rictor backed out towards the door, watching as the fire quickly engulfed the bar and moved towards the fallen men.

He smiled as he pushed the door open and took one last look. His grin widened and he left the bar, his pockets full of money and a smile on his face for the first time in weeks.

[Rictor]

He walked back out and Julie was still waiting for him. As he walked up to and past her, he saw she was staring at the bar, not him. He turned and saw that the flames he had started were easily seen through the windows, and the roof of the building was beginning to smoke.

A brief agonized scream elicited from behind the closed bar door, and Julie cringed a bit. Rictor didn't mind the scream, but something buried within him questioned if the girl should see or hear this.

"Come on, girl." He put a hand on her shoulder to turn her away. "Let's go."

She shrugged the hand off her shoulder and continued to stare as the flames grew inside. "No. I want to watch."

Whatever buried emotion in Rictor that had felt badly about her seeing this gruesome finish faded back into the depths of his pained heart. Rictor slid an arm around Julie's shoulders, this time not to pull her away, but rather to pull her closer.

"Let's watch together."

Julie put her head on his shoulder and slipped an arm around his waist.

Another scream arose from within the bar, then gurgled and stopped.


((The End))