The Sapphire Spectre

"Another fireball!" he exclaimed.

 

"Dude, you might want to slow down."

 

"Why? I ain't driving!"

 

"Keep that up and you won't be walking, either."

 

Danny ignored his friend as the bartender slid another shot of chilled, cinnamon whisky across the bar. Dillon shook his head and cringed as Danny downed the shot like it was water. How he could drink that terpentine, Dillon would never know.

 

"Come on, Dan. I think we better head out."

 

"I'm not done drinking. I still can't forget her."

 

"Count your blessings. I'm guessing there's gonna be a lot you won't remember after this, anyway."

 

"You," Dan said with a bit of a slur, "are a killjoy."

 

"And you are drunk bastard. Come on. Let's go." Dillon nodded to the barkeeper, being sure to give him a generous tip as he did so. Dillon's prediction was not far off – it took Danny several moments to steady himself on his feet before they were able to walk out of the bar. He leaned heavily on Dillon as they walked back towards the hotel.

 

"You're a good friend, Dillon. If you were a chick I'd totally marry you."

 

Dillon rolled his eyes. "Thanks pal. I will be sure to never remind you that you said that when you sober up."

 

"That's why you're a good friend."

 

"I know."

 

The two friends laughed and were almost back to the hotel when three men stepped in front of them to block their path. They gave no indication of being friendly.

 

"Cough up everything you've got, and we won't make you bleed," the largest of the three said to them. For a tense moment the two groups of men faced each other silently. Then Danny burst out laughing.

 

"Ha! You guys are funny! Come on Dillon, let's go." Danny started to move forward when one of the other men stepped up and laid Danny out with a single, right cross. Dillon stood there, angry and fearful.

 

"Alright, no need for that. Here," he said as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.

 

"Too late, sport," the big one said. "This is gonna be fun."

 

The three men began to converge on Dillon and he gave one last plea. "Please, don't. I'm begging you."

 

"Oh, please don't!" The third said, mimicking Dillon mockingly. Those were the last words said as they moved in. Dillon took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again they burned a sapphire blue, as did the ancient markings that covered his body just below the skin.

 

"What the hell?" the big one asked as he stumbled backwards. "Let's get out of here!"

 

"Too late, sport," Dillon retorted with a low voice, sending the man's words back at him. "This is gonna be fun."

 

It was over before any of the three of them could blink twice. The first one lay unconscious to Dillon's left, both shoulders dislocated from their sockets. Another was hunched over a bike rack to the right, with what was left of his teeth falling from his lips. The big one though, Dillon left him for last. One punch shattered three ribs on the man's left side. The second fractured his cheekbone, and the kick to the gut lacerated the would-be assailant's spleen. He coughed and sputtered as he tried to slide himself backwards away from Dillon.

 

Dillon walked towards him, his tribal tattoos still glowing and visible along his exposed legs, arms and face. It was the eyes though that terrified the man.

 

"Who are you?" he asked, the progress of his retreat halted by the palm tree into which he'd collided.

 

"Maybe you should ask me what I am," Dillon replied coldly. He reached down and lifted the man from the ground by his shirt.

 

"What are you?" he asked, unable to turn his gaze away from Dillon's flaming blue eyes.

 

"I'm your reckoning." With those words, Dillon pulled the man closer and then heaved him forward. The shirt he grasped tore rom the man's body as he flew through the air, striking the tree and falling to the ground. Like his friends, it would be some time before he'd regain consciousness. Dillon closed his eyes again, clenched his fists, and inhaled. By the time Danny came to, the effects of Dillon's transformation had faded away.

 

Danny stood and looked around at the limp bodies strewn around him. "Dude, what the hell happened?"

 

"Just a little disagreement. Come on. Let's get back to the room. I'm tired."

 

"Right, ok, sure," Danny replied with confusion. He glanced back at the three men behind him as Dillon led him up the steps of the hotel. "Dude," he whispered, wondering for the moment how his friend could have inflicted so much damage. It didn't matter – Danny wasn't going to remember the incident, anyway.

 

 

 

© J.J. Goodman 2014. All rights reserved.