Different [A Superhero AU] - Book One

Chapter Four - Drunk

Jack races towards his headquarters, his heart pounding out of his chest. He shouldn't have taken off his eyepatch. He always underestimates the monster that gets unleashed when he does.

He pushes the door open, almost stumbling towards his room. How did he get to this point? Sure, he's supposed to stop the heroes... but that? That was overkill. That was cruel. He didn't even kill the guy, he just left him beaten to a pulp, bleeding and broken. He doesn't even know his name...

He enters his room and slams the door, the sound echoing down the hallway and ringing in his ears. He takes a few steps before falling back onto his bed, staring at the same off-white ceiling he's been looking at for the past fifteen years.

The door opens, but Jack doesn't look towards the intruder.

"My, you seem quite distressed, Seán," the man says.

The Irishman doesn't respond, closing his eyes and wishing he could block out the voice.

"You did well today," the man continues. "Those heroes will learn to fear us thanks to you."

Jack sits up, glaring daggers at the elderly man in front of him. His suit hangs over his lean body, his skin yellowish due to the cancer in his liver. The man sits in Jack's office chair, his bones nearly creaking with the movement. When the Irishman refuses to speak, the man sighs.

"I will not be around much longer, Seán. Hopefully you will not treat my son in the same manner." He stands, heading towards the door. As he touches the door handle, Jack finally speaks.

"I hate you."

The man laughs, but the sound is hollow and empty. "I know you do. It is not uncommon for the monster to hate his creator."

Dan steps into the doorway, but upon noticing the man he steps back and allows him to pass. The Brit watches him go before looking back to Jack. Before he can say anything, the Irishman grabs the sleeve of his coat and drags him away.

"Where are we-" Dan starts.

"We're going to get drunk," Jack interrupts.

Immediately, the Brit's face falls. "Oh no."

—

The bar is loud and crowded, the smell of sweat and liquor lingering in the air. Music blasts, making it feel like their very brains are vibrating. Jack leads Dan through the masses of people and towards the bar, where he orders two shots.

The Brit winces. "I don't really want any."

"Good thing they're not for you," Jack replies. He downs them both and orders another two, making Dan cringe.

"This is a bad idea. We're two foreigners in a bar full of drunk Americans," he insists.

Jack doesn't even look over at him. "Drunk Americans are better to brawl with."

"Are you stupid? They have GUNS."

"I can outrun a bullet."

"If it doesn't hit you, it hits an innocent civilian!"

The Irishman lowers his glass, glaring at the Brit. "Isn't that why we were mutated? To kill people who did nothing wrong?"

Dan falls silent, his eyes trained on the counter.

Jack clenches his jaw, downs two more shots, and straightens up. "Time to fight an American."

Dan's eyes widen. "Um, Jack, no. Bad idea."

The Irishman ignores him and steps away from the counter, his eyes scanning for the perfect candidate. It doesn't take him long to find one, and starting the fight doesn't take long either. Jack approaches one of them and without a word, punches him in the face as hard as he can. The American stumbles, but regains his footing and strikes back. Jack avoids the blow at the speed of light and counters just as fast, sending the guy sprawling.

"What the hell is your problem!?" demands one of the guy's friends.

"A lot of things are my problem," Jack replies, a sarcastic smile on his face.

Another one of the friends, a burly man with a huge beard, stands up and cracks his knuckles. "Stupid Irishman, go back to your own country!"

Before he knows it, Jack is outnumbered by five. Dan approaches the drunks and grabs Jack's shoulders.

"I'm really sorry about him, he's going through a lot right now," he says, grinning sheepishly. "We'll just go."

"You need a Brit to help you, Irishman?" one asks, his voice incredibly slurred due to alcohol.

"No!" Jack retorts. "I'll fight all of you and win!"

Before he can say another word, a fist connects with his face, his nose gushing blood all over his clothes. Another punch comes but Dan catches it, making his own hand heat up and burn the fist of the American.

"I'm gonna ask that you stop," he says, his voice stern. His hand glows red as it gets hotter. "Nobody else needs to get hurt."

The man sighs with relief as his hand is released, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Dan turns and drags Jack out of the bar, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"That went well," Jack says as he attempts to stifle the blood flow from his nose.

Dan purses his lips. "You'll have a lot of explaining to do."

The Irishman shrugs, stumbling next to the Brit. He knows that in the morning he'll regret his actions, but now, he doesn't really care at all.