The Mirrorverse

Syrhahn

The amber fluid burned Syrhahn’s throat as it worked its way to creating a fire in his stomach. Like many things of late, drinking was something he hadn’t done in a long time. Syrhahn was perched on a bar stool in a dingy hole feeling further from home than he ever had, despite having been lost in other solar systems on his travels in his younger days. Again, that was a long long time ago.

He was aware of all the people in the bar, he knew that the old guy at the end of the bar wouldn’t look up for anything, and the two solitary males at separate tables just wanted a drink. In all probability they were all armed. Earth hadn’t changed much.

He thought back to meeting Angel, on the ship Achernar. While not proud of the person he had become, he had never been overburdened with an abundance of remorse, so he felt no regret as he sat at the bar, especially since he met his Angel on that ship.

Syrhahn sat there wondering if it was a lost art, if he could still do the things he had done in a bygone age, and knew instantly the answer was yes. He may have been slower and tarnished with age, but the will was still there. And he needed it. Frequenting seedy bars looking for answers was only going to get him trouble. Trouble he could handle, it was losing everyone he loved that he couldn’t.

Syrhahn nudged the guy next to him, the one with ‘fuck off’ written on his forehead.

“Looking for a guy that can walk through walls, know him?” he grunted as best he could, needing to sound as hard as possible, not like the desperate has-been that was sitting on his stool.

“Fuck off,” the guy replied predictably, turning back to his drink.

“You must have heard something,” he pressed, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.

“I said, fuck off,” he spat, reaching for his pocket. In an instantaneous blur, his head was on the bar, Syrhahn’s left hand wrapped around his neck while his right held to the random man’s head the gun he had been pulling out his pocket. It seemed Syrhahn wasn’t so slow after all.

he checked around the bar to make sure no-one was going to take him out. His intuition was correct, the old guy kept his head down, and the two guys at tables sat perfectly still, each looking away from him, while watching him in their peripheral vision.

The barman was clearly thinking about pulling a weapon, but put his hands up following a look from Syrhahn. I must look like a crazed lunatic, he thought morosely.

“Where do I find a man that can walk through walls,” he demanded deliberately, all anxiety gone from his adrenaline fuelled body, eyes still searching the bar.

“I don’t know, I don’t know” the man in his grasp wailed, looking from the barrel of the gun to Syrhahn. He knew the man was telling the truth, so he threw him on the floor, having at least acquired a gun. Downing the rest of his drink and ignoring the searing pain in his stomach, Syrhahn backed out the bar, the gun still poised centrally in order to facilitate firing in either direction. He let the door slam behind him as he turned to face the street.

He stashed the gun in the back of his belt, ready to move on to the next bar. He needed a plan, and this wasn’t it. But in the absence of anything useful, his suicide mission was all he had.

Syrhahn heard footsteps behind him. Glancing under his shoulder, he saw four well-built men coming up the rear. He pulled his back up to a wall, pulling the gun from his belt at the same time. Staring at the four men, he knew he could take them, whether they were armed or not. The question was, did they know that?

The men passed without word, each casting a sideways glance at him, seeing what? Perhaps his desperation was mingled with a transparent suicidal impulse, rendering him highly dangerous. Because that’s what he was. he was going to get his son back, or die trying. There was no alternative.

Syrhahn was back in mode. No fear, no remorse, just a crystal clear clarity to overcome any physical obstacle. If only he could overcome the obstacles that were separating him from his son. Their son. The only part of his Angel left.

“Not tonight mate.” The heavy set man on the door was holding out his arm to prevent him entering the bar.

“Any particular reason?” his voice was cold and measured, something familiar from yesteryear.

“You look like you’re looking for a fight. Not in my bar,” the bouncer replied honestly. Having always appreciated honesty Syrhahn nodded, moving on to the next.

The bar was sparsely crowded, boasting an array of humanoid and creatures from all walks of the universe. he recognised a few types of creature but for the most part they were alien to him.

Syrhahn walked towards the bar, his head beginning to feel light from the alcohol he’d imbibed. Knowing that drinking more could be a fatal mistake, he ordered a soda, receiving smirks from the guys propping up the bar. At a glance from him, one moved away while the others looked determinedly into their drinks. It was clear that he was trouble, and no-one wanted to be a part of it. He used to get off on intimidating people with just one look. Right then he just wanted them to keep their distance while he worked out a game plan.

He stood with his back to the wall and his drink in his left hand, should he need to pull the gun. Watching the scene, he found the most powerful guy there, a short lizard-like guy flanked by females of some other race. He was entranced by their beauty as much as the lizard man was, there was something primeval about those scantily clad females. He clocked the bodyguards, each packing at least two pistols that he could see. he knew he could use a lady as a shield and kill them all if he needed to. He didn’t think they’d be that stupid, but you never know.

He walked towards them looking only at lizardman, watching the bodyguards in his peripheral vision. He didn’t need the gun to kill them, didn’t require reaching for it, they were in perfect positions for the take down. he didn’t even care if it came to that. he had nothing to lose.

“Ever heard of men that can walk through walls?” he asked, pulling to lizardman’s right, ready to grab the female.

“What, are you drunk?” lizardman stared at him in disbelief. The ugly creature then shook his head at his men, calling them off attempting to kill Syrhahn.

“I’m serious. I’ve seen men appearing out of thin air and vanishing again. Ever heard of that?” he didn’t break eye contact, not when the creature called his men off nor when he laughed out loud.

“No, I think you need to go home and sleep it off, wacko,” he nodded at his men, who died before they reached their guns.

Syrhahn was stood in the bar, a smoking gun in his hand and a strange woman type creature held in a head lock in his left arm. Releasing her, he reached for the guns of the nearest expired bodyguard, tucking them into his belt while training the gun on lizardman and watching the rest of the bar.

He left the bar, a gun in each hand, ready to kill anyone that got in his way. He had more weapons but was still no nearer to finding Viskra.