I glanced away from the television lofted up near the ceiling, snuggled into the corner of the room, and I glanced at the bar fight that was now occurring right beside me. I sighed and hopped over a bar stool, the vinyl of it already fraying and tearing at the edges. The legs of it were sturdy, but not when one of the stools was taken (the one I had been on previously) and smashed into a buff guy's frame, shattering the wood into splinters that now littered the floor. I wiped some off of my jeans, rolling my eyes as I turned away from the hooting and hollering, picking up my drink. I throw it back and blink a couple of times as it burns down my throat, the poison known as beer killing my liver slowly. I keep my drink aloft as one of the fighters is thrown onto the bar, sliding past me before he stands up, hitting his head on the ceiling lights dangling from it like raindrops from clouds. He falls off of the bar, sprawling out onto the floor as the buff man gets on him and starts rapidly punching him in the face, cracking his nose, blooding his face, cutting his lip and bruising his eyes. I place my shot glass down before standing up, sliding my sunglasses down onto my face from my hair. I wave at the bartender, who nods at me as I walk away from the fight, my boots crushing the wooden splinters as drunkards just kept cheering on the fight.
The door was swept open before I got there, and a police officer swept in, shouting for the fighting to halt and the people to back away from each other. The door closed and I began to walk off, head down before I heard gunshots. I frowned before back-tracking and re-entering the bar, heading over to the buff man, who was holding the policeman by the throat, gun laying discarded on the floor. The other contestant of the fight was knocked unconscious, still on the floor in the same spot.
Jesse, the bartender and my ex-boyfriend, spots me and moves the rest of the customers out of the bar as I tap the buff man on the shoulder, making him turn around so that I can see his sweaty face and stinky, beer-breath. "Excuse me, sir, but can you please put the nice policeman down?" I whisper softly, my honey-sweet voice reaching his waxy ears with little resistant. I could see the muscles in his arm loosening and the policeman stopped turning blue. He wasn't, however, loosened. I placed my hand tentatively on the man's arm, pushing up my sunglasses as I was trying to calm him by staring into his eyes, and the policeman was finally let go, sliding down to the ground as he began to catch his breath; he was reaching for his walkie-talkie, his other hand going for the discarded gun, which I stepped on, keeping my eyes on the buff man. He appeared hypnotized by me and I would like to keep it that way until all of the customers were out of the bar, but a few stragglers were persistent about seeing a fight, and someone threw a beer bottle at the calming beast, who roared and smacked me across the bar, my body being thrown into the wall of refreshments, shattering the glass as I fell onto the floor behind the bar. I grit my teeth and gripped my side as I stood up, hearing gunshots. "Freaking cops and their guns." I mutter under my breath as I slide over the bar, picking up a bar stool before smacking the buff man over the head with it. He growled, probably not knowing any grammar, and grabbed my throat, lifting me off of the ground.
"Veronica!" Jesse shouted and I held a finger up to him, just not the middle one.
"Gimme a-- minute!" I choked out before closing my eyes and phasing out of my body. I drifted away from it as the man holding my lifeless body suddenly thought I was dead and dropped my body to the floor. He began cackling as he went after the policeman again, who was trying to radio in reinforcements. I phase back into my body and immediately jump onto the attackers back, winding a chain around his neck to try and knock him unconscious. He clawed at it before getting a firm grasp and throwing me off and into the other wall. I cry out and slide to the ground, my head hitting it first before my legs flipped me over, my back to my attacker. I rolled to the right as he charged at me, face smacking into the wall and ripping a hole into it. He pulls it out and plaster comes out with him. He shakes his head and I glance through the hole, noticing the little cafe on the other side, old woman freaking out and people taking pictures and talking on their phones. I roll my eyes before sliding my glasses on and standing up, quickly sidestepping the fist thrown at me. It also goes through the wall, but before it can retract, I swiftly wrap the chain around his arm and pull, breaking it at the elbow. My attacker cried out and yanked his arm free, smacking me again. I didn't go flying this time, just stumbled and gripped at my gut, gritting my teeth before a metal chair was smacked against the attackers head, and he fell unconscious, landing with a loud thump on the floor. I glanced at my rescuer to find the policeman, whose gun was in his holster.
YOU ARE READING
Accuracy and Precision (Clint Barton/Hawkeye Love Story)
Ação"What does it take to be really good at this?" I whisper, looking up at him as our hands touched. He coughed and looked at the weapon in our hands. "It doesn't take much. Just practice. That and some accuracy and precision." "Accuracy and precision...
