Deep Space Odysse Volume 1

Chapter 7 Brawl

"Never insult a soldier; you don't understand their spirit." — Former Federal Commander Beowulf.

...

Reynolds, halfway rising from his seat, halted abruptly, his body poised like a coiled predator. His gaze was cold, laced with an icy detachment as he looked at Bork. Only those who truly knew him understood that this was Reynolds' moment of true anger. When he was angry, he didn't roar like a lion but lay in wait like a venomous serpent, preparing to strike.

Yet, before that, he intended to offer one last chance. "Take back your words, apologize to the soldiers of the Federation, and I might consider sparing you."

"Apologize?" Bork chuckled darkly. "Apologies aren't exactly my strong suit!" Amused by his own words, he burst into laughter, his insolence escalating. "Hear me well, you worthless scum! You Federation soldiers are nothing but useless fools, fit only to be slaughtered by the gods on the battlefield!"

Reynolds' face darkened.

Just as he was about to make his move, a hulking figure charged forward, swiftly overtaking Reynolds. The black-clad man crashed into Bork, sending him flying through the air like a ragdoll. Bork landed with a heavy thud on a nearby table, splintering wood and sending glasses crashing to the floor.

Octavia whistled. "The real fun's about to begin."

The four-armed Sixclavian had already started tallying damage, muttering to himself, "This is my favorite part—humans fighting humans."

Reynolds, however, was stunned, his gaze fixated on the newcomer—a stocky man with a thick beard, dressed in a battered leather jacket. He seemed like someone who had stepped straight out of some ancient, untamed world. Though not particularly tall, he radiated an immense strength, an unshakable presence, as if he were a massive concrete pillar.

His nickname was "Fortress."

"Stark!" Reynolds exclaimed in disbelief.

The bearded man grinned sheepishly. "Hey, boss."

Jeff Stark, a mech soldier from the Aphrodite unit, and one of Reynolds' men—one of the few left unscathed after Aphrodite's demise. After being forced to separate from his soldiers, Reynolds had lost all contact with them, never expecting to encounter Stark here.

"Never thought I'd run into you," Reynolds said, clapping Stark on the shoulder.

Meanwhile, Bork had staggered back to his feet with the help of his companions. Roaring with fury, he charged at Stark, headfirst.

Stark didn't budge.

Looking down at the raging man attempting to shove him, Stark chuckled, "You can't move me."

With a casual push, Stark sent Bork flying once again.

"Looks like you've grown even stronger," Reynolds remarked, impressed. To withstand a full-force charge from such a brute was no small feat.

Scratching his head, Stark smiled modestly. "Must be the Earth food; it's been good."

Before Reynolds could respond, Bork's companions rushed in with a collective cry.

Shaking his head, Reynolds sighed. "Seems we'll have to fight before we can talk."

Grabbing a bottle from a nearby table, Reynolds smashed it over the head of the first man to reach him. The bottle shattered, red wine pouring down the man's face as his eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor.

"You're pretty strong yourself, boss," Stark laughed.

"As you said, Earth food's excellent," Reynolds replied, flexing his wrist.

As the thugs swarmed, Reynolds and Stark exchanged a glance, then burst out laughing before charging into the fray.

A thug lunged at Reynolds, aiming to tackle him, but Reynolds nimbly sidestepped, delivering a swift punch to the man's gut, doubling him over. With a quick pivot, Reynolds dodged another attacker, planting a kick that sent the man staggering back before smashing another bottle over his head.

Watching the bottle burst, Reynolds sighed. "Another drink down the drain. Damn Bissell."

Millie, the little blue sprite, zipped over Reynolds' head, cheering, "Go, Reynolds!"

"Get lost!" one of the thugs snarled, hurling a bottle at Millie. She squeaked and darted away, barely dodging the attack.

The next moment, the thug was on the ground, Reynolds' foot pressing firmly on his face. "You shouldn't have laid a hand on a lady," Reynolds growled coldly.

Using the combat skills he had learned at the military academy, Reynolds swiftly dispatched the thugs, none of whom posed a real threat. Where Reynolds relied on technique, Stark was like a walking tank, indifferent to blows and choosing brute strength over evasion. When Bork's fist connected with Stark's face, Stark merely tilted his head, then turned to Bork with a chilling grin.

That smile sent a shiver down Bork's spine.

For the third time, Bork was airborne.

Then came the fourth time. The fifth.

By the sixth, as Bork hit the floor with a sickening thud, the Black Rose Bar was littered with groaning thugs. Reynolds and Stark had been careful not to leave any permanent damage, but none of their opponents would be walking away unscathed.

"Well done, Stark," Reynolds said, giving him a thumbs-up.

Stark surveyed the damage. "Looks like we're going to owe a lot of money, boss."

"Don't worry," Reynolds laughed. "Losers pay the bill."

Turning to Octavia, Reynolds said, "Two bottles of Amber Estate, charged to Bork."

The Black Rose's bartender, a Sixclavian, passed the drinks to Reynolds and Stark.

Taking his bottle, Stark grinned. "I like this place."

Reynolds glanced around, then said to Stark, "It seems this place is no longer suitable for conversation. Let's head outside."

"Roger that, boss," Stark replied, already heading for the door.

Just as he reached it, Bork, shaking and unsteady, dragged himself to his feet, glaring at Stark with bloodshot eyes. His voice rasped, "I'm not done yet!"

Humiliation turned to fury, consuming what was left of Bork's reason. With a roar, he raised his cybernetic arm, a blade gleaming in the dim light. Mustering all his strength, he lunged at Stark, the blade aimed at his throat.

"Stark, watch out!" Reynolds shouted, launching himself at Bork and throwing a punch.

Stark realized the danger, but it was too late to dodge. The blade was mere inches from his neck when, with a loud crash, Bork was sent flying once more—this time harder than before. His body slammed into the wall and collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

It had all happened in a flash. The attempted ambush was over almost before it began, leaving everyone momentarily stunned. They had barely registered Reynolds standing behind Stark, calmly lowering his fist.

"Well done," the crowd erupted in applause.

Stark scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "You've saved me again, boss."

Reynolds raised his head. "I didn't even touch him."