The hummer was parked with perfect accuracy. Stetson stepped out, a concealed pistol in his vest in case events got messy. The parking lot where this bar was placed was sketchy at best. The bar is the center piece, an old wooden building with broken neon lights which read: Fincher’s Bar and Grill. Some of the staff on a smoking break of the bar eyed Stetson as he made his way through the old, creaky door.
Inside was a rather large place. The option of sitting at the fancier restaurant side or at the bar was an easy decision for the deer. Nothing in the bar looked new, everything looked worn and overused. The bartender is a slender female with blonde hair and a revealing outfit. She was the only one to not give Stetson a dirty look as he sat on one of the stools, hands folded contently. As for the two gentlemen on either side of him, they were different. Both men of similar age, one had an eye patch, the other is bald. Both wearing hunting vests and baggy pants. Neither of them had rifles,presumably they were kept in the vehicle they drove in.
The bartender whose name tag read Marcy approached the deer first, which neither of the men liked. IfStetson had been in the woods, he would probably be some trophy in a home. The battle had been won in this town of who was better, furry or human and humans took the prize. “What can I get you?” she said with a smile. With a polite smile back, he ordered a Redd’s Apple Ale. The two men on either side ordered dark beers.
The bald one smirked, both were a bit shorter than Stetson, but both were much thinner and out of shape. “Hey deer? When you finish, wanna come to my place and pose for a mantel?” Stetson merely shrugged and sipped his drink when it was brought to him. “Hey Patch?” The bald one leaned over to get the attention of his friend. “Why don’t we take this buck outside? We didn’t make good hunting today, but maybe we can make up for it?”Stetson chuckled a bit.
“I’m kinda busy tonight.” His tone is oddly kind,which neither of them expected. “I do have a question for both of you though.”Patch leaned into the deer on one side, Stetson flinched. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” He sniffed the deer’s arm, he loved the scent of furries, especially dead ones. “Please get off.” He gently nudged Patch to get him off his shoulder. Both are sitting and leaned into the deer, both admiring his nice form and how nice of a coat his fur would make. “Do either of you know Marco Payne?”
Baldy smirked as he stood up to go behind the deer as a form of intimidation. “Who wants to know? You?You shouldn’t go messing with him. He’ll kill you and skin you before you have time to cry for help.” Stetson finished his drink in one gulp, sighed deeply and pulled his pistol out, not fully since he didn’t want to alarm the other patrons, but enough so the two saw he meant business. Keeping the gun in one hand and under the bar, he didn’t have time to dillydally, he didn’t want to talk to these two scumbags for longer than he needed. Stetson spoke low. “I’ll ask you two one more time. I’ll leave you guys alone if you don’t have an answer for me. Your lives depend on it. Where. Is. Marco. Payne?”
Patch smiled a toothy grin, and very quickly put a hunting knife to the deer’s throat. Stetson’s first reaction was to shoot Patch as his heart leaped into his throat, but he knew that would mean a quick death for him. He wouldn’t die here. Not at some seedy hunter bar. Baldy leaned into the deer’s neck, his mouth touching the ends of his brown fur. His breath hot and slimy. “Why don’t you put your peashooter down and come outside? Your head will make a nice trophy. Drop your gun, deer. Say your prayers while you’re at it.” Patch stood up and giggled as he went to the entrance of the bar and held the door open.The bartender stepped back, looking pale. She liked how cool Stetson was,unlike a lot of humans, she wasn’t fond of how furries were treated.
Forcing the deer to stand, Stetson dropped his gun. If he died here and now, everything would be in vein. His planning, his regimented routines of practice fighting, the life of his daughter. The two led him to the front door of them bar slowly.
The sound of a gunshot rang through the buck’s ears as warm blood speckled the back of his neck, Baldy collapsed to the ground. Looking behind him, he saw the carcass of his attacker. With a bullet wound on the side of his head so large, the inside of his skull and brain wasn’t hard to detect. Glancing at the bar, Marcy held a shotgun, using both arms to hold it as the barrel smoked. Not one look of remorse or shock crossed her face. She had shot people before it would seem. Cocking the gun, she placed it back under the table. “You okay?” she asked in a monotone. Stetson nodded.“Yes ma’am and most importantly, thanks for the help.”
“Want another drink? It’s on the house. The shit you furries go through is disgusting. Least I could do is help out one.”
“No thanks. I gotta go.” Picking his gun back up, he rushed out the door as Patch had made a run for it.
The old truck wouldn’t start, Patch breathed heavily, jamming the key into the ignition as he watched Stetson from the windshield, briskly walk out of the bar, his boots loud against the pavement as he made his way towards the vehicle. Swearing, his vision became blurry as panic set in. The deer stepped to the driver’s side of the truck and aimed the gun at Patch with two hands from the busted driver side window. “Either step out now or I’ll be forced to fire. Your choice.” Patch yelped and ducked, landing face first on the passenger side. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Never in his life had he dealt with a deer of this magnitude. It threw him off. He fired the pistol, purposely missing but just close enough to his body to cause even more fear. “I don’t know where Marco is!” The pistol shot cracked into the night sky, this time the bullet entered Patch’s leg and he screamed in agony, holding the wound which gushed blood immediately.
Shooting the door handle, Stetson forced it open and pulled Patch out of the car, kicking and screaming like a little kid having a temper tantrum. It was no use, Patch shouldn’t have underestimated Stetson’s arms which were the size of treetrunks. Slamming his body into the black pavement, the deer used his foot to apply pressure to the bullet wound. “Where is Marco Payne?!” he yelled, showing he meant full-on business as if the shooting wasn’t enough. “Okay! OKAY! Don’tkill me!” Lifting his boot up to relive this horrendous agony, he eyed Patch, narrowing his black eyes, his ears stick straight up. The lights from the bar lit the entire parking area, Stetson hoped no passerby would call the cops on him if they heard the gunfire. “He lives on Terrace Avenue! Two story blue house in the middle of nowhere. An hour from the bar! W-with his kid!” Stetson nodded.
“His kid? Will he cause problems?”
“No! I heard he’s retarded or something.” Stetson applied more pressure, harder than before, talking over Patch’s final screams. “Forget my face. And don’t say the r-word, prick.”