Disclaimer: I don’t own Xander or the Losers, since if I did, you’d all be invited to my house for some “fun”.
They found him at the Fabulous Ladies Night Club in a small town in backwater California called Oxnard. Jensen was the first to spot him, which drew Cougar’s attention since their hacker was never quiet. The guy at the bar, who had to be eighteen tops, was flaring drinks for the guys and gals and quickly serving out drinks. Cougar pointed him out, subtly, to Clay and the five of them made their way to the bar. Taking the last few seats, before anyone else could, gave them a better vintage point to see the bartender, who did look a lot younger up close, flare for the crowd. Clay did wonder, however, why his eyes looked so old, since he was too young to have that jaded soldier look in his eyes whiskey brown eyes.
“You’re mixiest drink please, and the more violent the color the better.” Jensen broke the rest of them out of their musings in time to see a smug smirk being sent their way.
“Sure thing Soldier. What ‘bout the rest of you?”
“Beer.” “Beer.” “Corona.” “Coke.” They spoke at once and the brown eyes focused on Pooch.
“You the DD?”
“One Coke, on the house then my good man.” A tall glass of coke hit the bar as well as two beers and a corona and lime, before he went back to mixing a violent blue/purple drink for Jensen. Five different shots of alcohol later and much fan-fair, Jensen had a tall, thick glass of neon blue and purple with a gaudy lime green umbrella piercing a cherry and a slice of orange. Taking a small sip, Jensen let out a small moan of pleasure before taking a larger swallow of his new favourite drink before leaving the bartender a massive tip.
“Can I take you with me? Seriously man, I bet you’re a wicked cook too if you can mix drinks like this.”
The bartender smirked and went back to flaring for others, and was about to hand over the newest drink when the doors blasted open. Before anyone could register the masked man entering the club, three knives hit him in the hand, neck and chest. Clay noticed Roque’s hand twitching, and this gave Clay enough time to move the five of them into position. After that, it didn’t take long to knock down the following six people trying to trash the club. Once they were down, Clay cursed upon seeing a specific mark on one of the men. He was so angry that he didn’t notice the bartender or the knives in his hands, until he spoke.
“Hunh, CIA Black Ops. Thought they’d leave me alone after the last time I removed a few of their men.”
“Let me guess, their boss’ name is Max?" Roque spoke before Clay could.
“Yep, they after you too?”
“Max had us framed for killing 25 kids in Bolivia.” Clay mentioned quietly.
Brown eyes went from playful to stone cold, and Clay wondered how this civilian could switch gears so quickly while he contemplated his newest Loser.
“So if you’re with us, what’s your name?”
End...... For now.