Part #10: Red Dawn: Chapter One

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Chapter One

"No fuckin' way!" Rithian swore loudly, golden eyes shining in the faded glow of a single guttering lantern. His gaze was fixed on Kevyn Jonston, who was busy putting away what could easily have been his fiftieth shot of the night.

As Kevyn lifted the drink to his lips, Rithian laughed, shaking his head. "Put that shit down, bro. Look, a good rule of thumb my grandma taught me: if you can't count the Falkonian Breakers you've downed in the last hour on your ten fingers, you're done. You, my friend, have been done for a long, long time."

"Sol's right, Jonston. You're gonna die." Bree said flatly, quirking an eyebrow at the blonde Defense Agent. She glanced down at one hand, picked absently at a hangnail. Her face was flushed the color of stained mahogany. Her chocolate eyes were liquor-dull. She cradled a half-empty bottle between her knees as she swiveled to and fro on her barstool. "Sterling, make him stop."

"Yeah, Sterling," Rithian said. The long-haired Liberator turned his own stool to face Sterling, who sat beside him staring into a short glass of a faintly green-tinted substance. "Do something about your boyfriend's drinking problem."

Sterling snorted loudly. "The quite astonishing fact that Jonston has the physical capacity to handle a pint of Falkon's strongest liquor in under an hour is not the problem," he snapped back. "The fact that you idiots are encouraging him to engage in such disgusting behavior is. I will have no part in any of it."

"Aw, c'mon, Cole." Rithian reached over and gave Sterling a resounding smack on the back. "Lighten up, man!"

"Touch me again and I'll tell everyone in this entire bar who left your room last night unclothed, Sol."

Rithian laughed, unruffled. "You mean other than me?"

Sterling rolled his eyes and took a dignified sip of his drink. "Stop talking at me, Sol. Your voice is giving me a headache."

From across the room, Jason watched his team—his friends, as they had become—bicker, drink, and laugh, wishing more than anything that he had the mental strength to join them. His fifth Fafykrnamnrysh beer—the most potent brew in all Monterra—shook in his tightly clenched fist. His head throbbed dully with every strong jolt of his heart. There was a bitter tang at the back of his throat, like the fading taste of blood after a fight. C'mon, McKinley. He gritted his teeth. Tried to block out the snide voice in his head. You've done a lot worse and gotten over it a lot quicker. Compared to some of the shit you've done, Skyler's blood won't even change your soul a shade. This is just a drop in the bucket. So snap out of it, you self-pitying fuck.

From the bar, Kevyn let out a raucous laugh, tipping back on his stool and gripping the counter with both hands. "Hey, Sterling. Sterling. Tell 'em this isn't the stupidest thing I've ever done. Tell 'em, Sterling."

Jason watched as Sterling swiveled to face the other three Liberators, silver eyes blazing. "This is not the stupidest thing that this undignified, belligerent idiot has done." Sterling confirmed tartly. "In fact, I could write a book on the subject of stupid things that Jonston has done. It would likely be longer than the Bible, and would take me half a lifetime to complete."

Kevyn grinned drunkenly at Sterling. "Remember that time on our first mission together?"

Sterling seized his drink and took a long sip. His expression was cold, distant. "I remember everything, Jonston."

"I almost took a bullet for you, remember?" Kevyn chuckled. "I would've, too, if an enemy agent hadn't caught it first."

"Awww," said Bree, pursing her lips at the pair of them. "That's sweet."

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