Hardman's Bar
By Hadrian Howell (Hardman)
Chapter 5
“Name?”
“Hardman.”
“First name?”
“That IS my first name.”
“Last name, then?”
“Yer new here, aren’t you?”
“Um… a little.”
I sighed. I’m not really enamored of the idea of dealing with the police to begin with, but a rookie cop is just painful. Seriously, this guy was a cookie cutter rookie, like you’d find in almost ANY cop movie. I have to give him credit, though. Unlike the rest of the police around here, he didn’t seem at all deterred by the fact I was three times his size. Or at least it didn’t show.
I’d already called Cassandra and told her what happened., and Top had already split for home, leaving me alone in the charred remains of my establishment with this kid. I know I cursed him under my breath at least four times.
“Look, this is simple. I’ve done this before. Ya just write down ‘Arson’ on the sheet of paper, put ‘Hardman’ down under the victim / wronged parties section, and under the perpetrator / parties responsible section, ya write ‘Under Investigation.’”
“Oh, you’ve done this before, have you?” he asked with slight accusing in his voice.
I tried working my face to give him a look that might have killed someone on another planet through chaos theory. I probably succeeded, judging by how the color drained from his face. “Er, right, um…” he managed nervously, apparently just now realizing I could clap my hands and crush his skull. “Was… was anything taken?”
I swept my arms around the wreckage. “The whole place BURNED DOWN. They took my job, my bar, and ALL o’ my booze. Do YOU think anythin’ was taken?”
“Uh, I meant like… did you have a safe or anything?”
That’s when it occurred to me that I did. Under four inches of steel. THAT probably hadn’t burned down. I cut my conversation with the officer short to rummage around in the ashes for the steel plate.
Security on my safe had been made SO much easier when I became Hardman. Suddenly being able to lift much heavier objects than I’d been previously capable of meant out with the old, broken down electronic security system and in with a simple hole in the ground covered by a thick, 1.5 ton piece of steel.
I heard a mouse-ish squeak behind me as I hauled my steel security measure out of the remains of my floor and reached down to scoop out the safe. “Yep,” I said, looking at it. “This is still here.”
“I’d ask if anything was stolen from it, but… that seems silly, somehow.” The rookie managed in a much higher pitch than he usually used.
I nodded, but spun the dial to put in the combination anyway. Better safe than sorry.
In this case, I was both.
“****ING BULLSHIT! HOW IN THE ****BUCK DID THEY STEAL ALL MY GODDAMN MONEY?”
I admit, I was angry by this point. In my rage, I may or may not have chucked the now open safe into the building across the street, which may or may not have been a Laundromat that reportedly exploded later that day when a gas main that had opened caught a spark. My bad, but hey: Laundromat or My Bar? I know what’s more important here. I’ve got my priorities straight.
“So, how much money was stolen?” the rookie cop asked me from his new hiding place behind where my bar used to be.
“Gah, I put over three thousand dollars in there last night, and I hadn’t gotten to th’ bank th’;day before, so I had the weekend’s earnin’s in there… somthin’ like seven thousand dollars. DAMMIT.” I’ll say my head was clear enough to put the steel plate back into place on the floor. Anger management classes had taught me that much.
The rookie impressed me by pressing on with his questions. “Uh, did you have an insurance policy on this place, sir?”
“What?” I barked, coming down from my desire to hit things until things got better.
“An insurance policy, sir. Fire insurance of any kind?”
I thought for a moment. “God, I haven’t had fire insurance in ages… especially after that one kid summoned that fire demon in my bar. Just didn’t seem like there was any point.”
“F… fire demon?”
“I rebuilt the place with square tables that time. No more of that ‘drawing summoning circles on my tables with chalk’ nonsense.”
“Er… fair enough… I suppose…”
“Took me forever to get rid o’ that thing. ‘Course, I wasn’t in the Mechs back then, so I had to figure the whole thin’ out on my own. Pain in my ass.” I sighed, trying not to remember those days. “Anyway, anythin’ else we need ta go over?”
“No, I think that’s about it. I’ll get someone on this right away, okay?” the rookie said, trying to get away. He was halfway down the street before my Hard Knuckle caught him, grabbed the back of his shirt, and dragged him back to me. I don’t like chasing people when I have something I want to say.
“Listen, kid, I appreciate you’re tryin’ ta figure this one out fer me, but get one thin’ straight: This was MY bar. I’LL find whoever did this, and when I do, I’LL make ‘em pay my own damn self. Get it?”
“Got it,” he said with a terrified sob.
“Good,” I growled, setting him down.
