Gareth circled the rim of his pint glass with a wrinkled finger, staring at his reflection in the frothy piss water. His scraggly grey beard was untamed, and dark pits hugged his eyes. Another day, another dollar (less). He mused, not that the world used dollars anymore, but ‘Universal Credit’ didn’t really fit into sayings.

  He sighed, being a veteran was not as respected as it used to be, before the dying of most of the old world governments many soldiers had been constantly sent off to fight meaningless wars, but the moment the Megacorporations had taken over they had diverted funds elsewhere and had stopped paying state pensions, meaning all old government workers and soldiers were left destitute and grabbing at pennies. His life had truly hit rock bottom and he had never gained any of the proper experience needed to hold non combat related jobs.

  Of course he had tried to apply for a combat related position at all of the Mega Corps, but they wanted young impressionable people who would do as they were told without question rather than patriotic veterans with lingering loyalty to dead countries.

  He drained the last of his pint and was about to raise his hand to ask Boris for another when the Bar doors swung inward with a soulless creak and a stranger wandered in. The stranger was dressed fancy in a suit that usually signified working for a Mega Corp, but what drew most of his attention wasn’t the stranger or the shoddily dressed man that came after him, no it was the possum that followed the pair in like a well trained dog.

  Slowly the other patrons of Bogbag fell silent as their gazes also landed on the creature, even Boris, the co-owner himself had never seen anything so bizarre in all his long years of tending the place and his mouth just flopped open. The stranger ignored all their gazes and stepped up to the bar holding up two fingers. “Two portions of your largest and meatiest please.”

  Boris silently stared at the man before looking down and pointing to the Possum. “That yours?” he asked seriously, ever the man of few words.

  Gareth watched, unsure whether to laugh or cry as the man made a show of looking down at the creature and then back up to Boris, “Yup, well trained isn’t it!”

  Boris frowned, but chose not to comment, instead producing a pad of paper and writing an order, old fashioned style, then tearing it off and going into the kitchen to give it to the chef. The man looked around for a place to sit and then spotted the three unoccupied chairs on his table. He enigmatically walked over and stuck out a hand. “The name's Bobby, can we sit here?”

  Gareth gingerly shook the hand, “Gareth, eh, sure.”

  Bobby grinned at him before reaching down to pick up the possum and placing it in the chair opposite him, then the skinny man pulled out a chair and tucked Bobby in, much to Gareth's astonishment. Is that man a butler or bodyguard? No, he can’t be, he looks more like a hobo. Gareth shook his head in confusion and stared at the possum opposite him which was idly grinding its teeth.

  He was about to ask the man why he had trained a possum, but Bobby spoke before he could. “So Gareth, or can I call you Gary? I’m going to call you Gary. So Gary, what brings an old man like you to Kelpington, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

  Gareth frowned with distaste at the nickname, but couldn’t be bothered to ask the man to change what he called him. “I heard there was rail work for anyone, but by the time I got here the building companies had finished recruiting and no one seems to want an elderly security guard, so I’m stuck.”

  Bobby looked at him with a clearly sympathetic expression that he hated, he couldn’t stand people feeling sympathy for him, he’d already lived as much as he could and he had no family or friends left, so he was just waiting to die. Although if he had some more money he might get his head frozen at one of those cheap cryo facilities.

  As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise Gareth still felt very unfulfilled, but there was nothing he could do about that with the short amount of time left and he didn’t want no greenscrub like this Bobby who still had most of his life ahead of him to feel sorry for him. For the second time he was about to say something, but got interrupted, this time though it was not Bobby.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING DOING IN MY RESTRAUNT!!??” Shouted a large burly man with a name tag that said Gomp, emerging from the kitchen with two plates of sizzling unidentifiable meat precariously balanced in his hands. He quickly put the plates of meat on a sideboard and began running over.

  Gomp’s tiny face was so screwed up and red with a mixture of anger and disgust that it looked like steam would start whistling from his ears at any moment. Then to his surprise a puff of steam did shoot out of one of the man's ears. Gareth briefly wondered how that was possible until he realised that one of the plates of sizzling meat had been put in front of a small fan which just happened to be blowing in the right direction to make an optical trick.

  Gomp arrived at their table, ending his bull like charge before he crashed into it and tried reaching for the possum, but before he could Bobby reached out and deflected his hand. “Don’t touch Fluff, he may be well trained, but he still can bite.”

  “WHY WOULD YOU BRING SUCH A DISGUSTING CREATURE INTO MY CLEAN ESTABLISHMENT?” The man bellowed, drawing the attention of the entire place.

  Bobby paused and looked round the grubby room, “Clean?” he murmured in confusion, which served to make Gomp even angrier. “You allowed dogs, I didn’t see anything about Possums and I don’t see much difference either.”

  “THAT THING IS FILTHY,” Gomp yelled again, pushing past Bobby to grab the animal.

  Said animal suddenly spun round and dug its teeth into Gomps meaty hand. “AHHHGGG, IT BIT ME, YOU CALL THAT WELL TRAINED, ALL OF YOU LEAVE NOW.”

  Gareth looked in annoyance at Bobby as he slowly got up, no longer wanting to be involved. Bobby and the other man went to follow, but Gomp grabbed Bobby by the shoulder before he could stand. “No, Not you, you’re going to pay for those two meals and an extra thousand for medical expenses.”

  Gareth was stunned by Gomp’s words, as much as Bobby annoyed him, the man hadn’t done anything to warrant having to pay that much money, in fact all of the fault lay with Gomp. He paused at the exit to see how Bobby would deal with the situation.

  Bobby attempted to wriggle out of the man’s grip. “That’s ridiculous, I warned you and you ignored me and I’m not paying a single credit if I don’t get to eat what I ordered.” Bobby finally escaped and darted back from the man, knocking over his chair in the process. “Mcgunkin and Fluff, we’re leaving now, protect me if this man tries to stop us.”

  Then Bobby turned and walked towards the door.

  Gomp let out a bellow of rage and picked up the table they had been sitting at, throwing it towards them. Bobby dodged to the side, the object luckily missing him and with a loud CRASH hitting a wall.

  There were screams as the other patrons looked at the pile of splintered wood and leapt up, fleeing out the front door and pushing past a stunned Gareth. Holy shit, that man is strong, he must have some serious anger issues, Gary thought. Soon the place had emptied and the only people left were Bobby’s entourage, Gareth and a heavily breathing Gomp.

  Bobby backed away towards the hole in the wall, prompting Gomp to yell and start charging, “DON’T YOU RUN FROM ME YOU SCUM.”

  Then to Gareth's surprise Bobby’s companions leapt at Gomp. The skinny one took a punch to the face, but somehow ignored the blow, leaping forward again and grabbing onto Gomp with more vigour than any soldier he’d ever seen. Then the possum joined in and soon the giant man was being bitten and beaten every which way.

  Bobby grabbed one of the splintered table legs which had fallen off the table as it hit the wall and ran behind Gomp, joining his companions in beating the man. The fight was long and bloody, proving to be the most entertaining thing that Gareth had seen in years, but eventually Bobby managed to knock the brute unconscious.

  It was that time that Boris walked back in and surveyed the room with shock before his gaze landed on Bobby holding a bloody table leg above his Gomps unconscious form. “YOU HURT MY BROTHER!” he yelled, before leaping over the bar impressively and charging at Bobby and his companions.

  Gareth was stunned as Bobby somehow proceeded to take down Boris as well, and in less time than his brother took as well, there seemed to be some sort of instinctual teamwork forming between him and his companions. The sight of such talent would have made him proud if he was still a colonel in the army and they were men he had been training.

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