My first short story. Not exactly Destiny related, but I was bored and felt like writing something badass. Here goes! A Night Out As I take a seat near the bar at Sheryl’s Tavern, I think to myself, ‘[i]Finally, some time to rest after all those missions to the Fallen bases outside the City[/i].’ While I’m sitting down, sipping my pint of Red Moon, I hear a loud laugh, a couple booths away. I peek out from under my hood and notice 3 men- no, boys- talking noisily, looking as if they’ve had more booze than they should have. “Man, I could go for a couple more” ,Groans one of them. The one wearing a maroon jacket adds, “Yeah, so could I!” “All I need right now is a woman sitting on my lap!” Yells the tall one. As he says this, he walks over to Sheryl, the bartender and owner, and pulls her over to him. The waitress shouts, “Let go of me ,you oaf!” She slaps at his face, but he just grabs her arm and twists it, causing Sheryl to scream in pain. I notice the commotion, but don’t know whether to listen to the raging, boiling sensation in my chest, or the voice in my head that tells me that it’s not worth it. Sorry mind, but I’m gonna follow the feeling in my heart I got up and firmly told him, “I suggest you listen to her.” He turns his head and challenges, “Yeah, and why should I, huh?” I stride over to him and whisper, “Your loss.” He lets go of the girl and angrily tries to punch me in the stomach. But his movements are slow, based on his drunkenness, and I easily redirect it away from me and jab at his throat. As he struggles to breath, I shove him into an open booth and let him gasp. Unfortunately for me, his friends do not take too kindly to this. The one wearing a reddish coat charges and catches me off guard. I stumble over a chair and fall onto the metal floor. The man kicks at my chest, as I am vulnerable, but I grab his leg and flip him onto the ground. I then get up and kick him in the face, but get tackled by the third companion. We wrestle on the floor, each of us trying to get the upper hand, but the redcoat gets up and comes over. I throw the third man off me and kick the redcoat in the calf. He staggers from the pain, which gives me the opportunity to get up and punch him in the stomach. He falls over, and I walk back to the third man and give him a nice kick to the groin. He groans and writhes on the ground, as I walk back to the first guy who was harassing the waitress. “Now tell her you're sorry,” I tell him in a low voice. The man just spits at my face and grins. I mutter to him, “That really wasn’t a question.” So I step back and shoot him in the leg with my revolver. He cries out in pain and clutches his thigh, tears streaming out of his eyes. “Now, say you're sorry,” I smile. I grab his hair and twist his head to face the waitress. He shrieks in agony. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He sobs, blood soaking through his khakis. The waitress simply gasps at the whole scene. I reach into the man’s pockets and find his wallet. I take out his Glimmer Card and toss it to the waitress. “Sorry about the mess,” I say, quoting an ancient tale. “Put my drink on his tab, please?” The waitress just nods rapidly. I walk over the bodies of his friends, still aching and moaning, and walk out the door. ‘[i]Well, there goes my holiday[/i].’