Jorg the Destroyer

Jorg sat down at the bar and sighed. His clunky, metallic body armour clinked like a glass as he shuffled around to get comfortable. The jet black suit glimmered under the dim bar lampshade above.

'Tough day?' Said the barman.

'Like you wouldn't believe.'

'Usual shot?'

Jorg nodded and watched the barman wrestle a bottle of whiskey from under the bar. A scrawny barman with a squalid face and brown eyes that flittered around nervously. He propped up the bottle and poured it into a double shot glass.

'How many people did you kill today?'

A vein on the left side of Jorg's temple swelled up but the barman couldn't see it behind Jorg's helmet.

'Rick, how many times have I told you! We don't discuss that here.'

Rick laughed nervously and slid the glass to Jorg.

'I'm kidding, Jorg, I'm kidding!'

Jorg silently picked up the glass with his index finger and thumb and slid the drink into the slot where his mouth was.

'Another,' said Jorg.

Rick obeyed and poured whiskey into another shot glass. The bar was almost empty and Jorg listened to the drink trickle into the glass like a broken gutter pipe.

'You know, times are pretty tough nowadays,' said Rick. 'I really appreciate your custom.'

Jorg nodded and smiled. It's unlikely that Rick could see that either.

'It's a quiet bar,' said Jorg. 'That's why I come here.'

An old, heavy set man heaved out of the chair behind him and sat next to Jorg.

'You're a destroyer, aren't you?' Said the man.

Jorg turned slowly and looked at the man's red, wrinkled face. His body was built like a house.

'Calm down,' said Rick to the visitor. 'We don't want any trouble.'

'I had a sister, killed by a destroyer. By one of you.'

Jorg looked at the man and a flurry of stats screamed across Jorg's visor. The man's name, height, occupation, address.

'I suspect you're scanning me right now, aren't you?' The man pointed a shaking finger at Jorg's face.

'Sit back down!' Hissed Rick. 'Jorg doesn't want have any trouble. Your sister is not his problem.'