1.45 – Human Supremacist

1.45 – Human Supremacist

“The aliens are taking over this planet too, used to be a safe haven for humanity,” a young man says to a group of others at a table off in the corner.

I don’t pay them any mind, nothing I haven’t heard a thousand times before, especially after my trip to mars. The aliens took our jobs, my partner left me for an alien. It’s all a bunch of crap, just seems odd for a planet where there’s so many human and alien interactions every day. Racism, specism or whatever, just never made any sense to me. It doesn’t bother me, but the old man is clearly annoyed by the talk. He’s been eyeing the table since they came in, mumbled something about the Earth patches on their jackets. Each patch features Earth with a Vitruvian Man stretched across. It’s something I’ve never seen before but it gets a lot of looks, not just from Martin. While his is a look of rage, others seem more surprised. Their conversation gets more detailed in their dislike for other species, opting to use slurs instead of actual names. A small vein is popping out of Martin’s neck at this point. I’ve never seen the man get upset, raise his voice or look like he even knew how to be angry. I thought Pauline had exclusive rights to that emotion in their relationship.

“The winged rodents are the worst. Flying around but couldn’t even save their own damn planet,” A large man missing a finger speaks loudly. “They expect me to eat bugs like them?”

“Hey, we don’t really do that kind of talk around here,” I sit down a few beers to make this easy.

“Why? You fucking a flying rat,” the man asks loudly.

His friends begin to cackle in unison as if they’ve heard the funniest joke of all time. They’ve managed to draw the attention of everyone in the bar at this point. Pauline shines some glasses as she watches for my reaction. Martin has made his way from the kitchen, but it seems like I’m the only one who notices he’s tucked a knife into his waistband. I can’t let this old man start a fight, even if he’s got a knife. He’d be outnumbered, I’m outnumbered too, but I think I can take these guys.

“Yeah, just love that fur, so please respect my partner,” humor always worked for Edan, I suppose I’m just not funny because nobody laughed.

“Was that supposed to be funny,” a guy with strange shapes carved in his beard speaks up.

“Yeah, but nobody laughed, so how about you all just leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere because you want to kiss some extraterrestrial ass,” Fingerless Joe speaks as the third man licks his lips.

“Alright, now I’m telling you, get out.”

“You going to make me,” the three men rise from the table.

I don’t answer right away, I wave off Martin and Pauline. I don’t get a chance to answer the threat before Squiggle Beard takes a wild swing that I see coming from a mile away. He’s drunk enough that he just tumbles to the floor. Fingers lands a body shot but I’m able to counter with a few solid lefts of my own. I lose track of who’s hitting me. After a good punch to the jaw I’m left wondering why I’m not using this arm full of all kinds of metal alloys that I’ve been carrying around. It feels good to throw a right-handed punch again; it feels better when Squiggle Beard drops the ground and there’s a pause in the fighting. Long enough for me to take the action to the third man, he can’t give a punch, but he can take one. He’s smaller than the others, but he’s a lot sturdier too. Screw this. I wrap my arms around his waist and twist as I lift him off the ground. There’s a bang and the sound of glass shattering as I slam him to the floor and the table comes with us. A few more quick punches and he’s out. My right arm goes dead again, not a good sign. I turn to face the man missing a finger only to see he’s got a taser. He looks like he’s seen a ghost when I face him. I grab a bottle in my left hand, I don’t do the stupid thing and try to break it. I just fling it as his head as hard as I can. When he dodges it I rush and tackle him to the ground. I’m able to land some punches but I can’t keep control with just one arm. Soon he’s on top of me throwing punches of his own. There’s a loud crack and he collapses on top of me. I roll his body over to see Martin standing there with a chair.

It doesn’t take long for peace officers to show up, Pauline called them sometime before the fight started. I’m not in any trouble, everyone in the bar was on the same page about what had happened. The three of them will be going to jail, and I’ll be going to get an icepack and a cold shower. Maybe a couple days off if Pauline thinks I did a good job.

“You did a hell of a job, didn’t think you had it in you,” Martin pats me on the shoulder as people head out for the night.

“Why not? I told you I was a marine,” I flex my right arm, and stretch my fingers to make sure it syncs up well.

“That bright and fancy arm is why I didn’t believe it, but you showed me. I respect it.”

“Thanks for the assist with the chair by the way.”

“Well you did all the hard work.”

“Just like with the roof,” we both laugh.


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