The Boys: Season 1 - Harbinger Rising

Chapter 10: The Bar

One of the recruits who told us about the bar where Syndicate members hang took me there and dropped me off before heading back to the safehouse. If there's a chance our myth is here then this could be my opportunity to talk to him without my uniform and try and learn more about him.

I enter The Bar to see a rather fancy design of the place, it produced an atmosphere of comfort and social fun, a good place for groups of friends to have fun and a good time. It was busy and was full of people and the noise was optimal, I then see four men sitting and a table enjoying drinks and causing a ruckus, they were no doubt Syndicate members because of their dark clothing and masks on the table, I take a seat opposite of them to watch and got a good look at each of their faces as I pay close attention to their conversations, I didn't hear anything important and it seemed they just came here to enjoy a drink and maybe get drunk in the process.

"He is here." A female voice whispers in my ear.

I look around for whoever could be the myth everyone is talking about, but so far no one fit the profile. I look to then see a man who appears to be in his late 30s with dark brown hair and a short boxed beard. His eyes were a rare grey color and he watched the Syndicate members with glaring eyes as he drank. He's wearing a black shirt that hugs his chest with blue pants and brown boots.

"It's him." The voice whispers.

"How do you know?" I whisper back to the voice in my head.

"His eyes . . . . . They are not natural." She answers.

Only 3% of the human population will be born with grey eyes. To say that his eyes aren't natural, well, you may as well say that his eyes are non-human, but if that's really him, he may make his move sooner rather than later. I move to where he is and grab his attention.

"Hey, mind if I sit here and enjoy a drink with ya?" I ask him.

He looks at me before answering. "What, you got no one else to drink with so you're asking a stranger? Sure . . . I guess you can." I sit beside him and order a drink.

We both observe the members making a racket as they continue to get drunk, with the owner unable to do anything about it these guys weren't disturbed and could pretty much drink the whole storage if they wanted too.

"Look at those guys. Thinking they're kings because the police can't touch 'em. If I wasn't civil, I'd honestly smash this glass over their heads before giving them a beat down and call it a day." He says while looking at the members.

"You'd know they'll retaliate."

"Retaliate against what? I got nothing and no one for them to harm, they'll just have to settle things with me."

He certainly doesn't have the attitude for someone who sets people on fire. His atmosphere is clouded as if he's protected by something or someone, and I can't read his thoughts, I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way and just ask questions.

"I suppose you don't like wannabe gangsters too I reckon." He says to me.

"No I don't, back in Washington I and a couple of guys taught a pair of drug dealers who were selling Black Dust a lesson and forced them off the street. They haven't returned since."

"So I'm not the only one who isn't putting up with their bullshit." He smiles. "More people like you and these boys are finished." He jokes.

"Names Gerald- Gerald Richardson." I introduce myself.

"Thomas, pretty much don't like using last names."

"You been in New York long?" I ask Thomas.

"No. Only for about a month. Thought I'd come here to enjoy a cold drink before heading out again." He looks over to the members who were now starting to leave, he finishes his drink before leaving a tip on the table. "I gotta go, thanks for the company."