April #1: quotethis_muses
“In taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior.” - Sir Francis Bacon
Fact of the matter was, he was still a boy. A fabulous looking, super soldier, genetically engineered boy, but a boy nonetheless. And boys are-distracted by certain things, no matter how in tune with the mission they are, or how interested they are in what you’re saying. Mickey happened to be a great big boy, who was very easily distracted by a nice low cut dress, and not only is it nice and low cut, it was actually filled out well. Mickey was a sucker for a woman who looked good in a dress and two weeks into his long stay in Acapulco, he came to the fantastic conclusion that not only was this the land of bikinis and legs, which were fantastic in and of themselves, it was also the land of women who really knew how to work a skirt. Unfortunately for Mickey, the ones who knew how to work a skirt usually weren’t the ones who were single either.
However, that lesson still hadn’t managed to sink in quite yet.
Because every time a flash of leg caught his eye, the distraction would lead to flirting, flirting might occasionally lead to something more than that, and that something more usually wound up getting into a bar fight with said distraction’s machismo boyfriend, who didn’t like this Australian bastard hitting on his woman. A bar fight which Mickey usually won-genetically engineered super soldier and all-but a bar fight nonetheless. He’d been barred from several cantinas littered throughout the town, and had just managed to land in what he considered the last one in town, one that he knew he couldn’t get into trouble in, because it wasn’t the type of joint that women that usually caught his eye usually sauntered into, so he figured he was safe. Apparently, not quite.
About two hours and three beers into Mickey’s visit, he was starting to play the appropriate drunk, when an earlier mark-the girl had been absolutely gorgeous, curves like an hourglass and one of the smoothest flirts he had ever met, second to himself, of course-stumbled in with his posse and decided they wanted to jump the unsuspecting wanker while he was sitting there drinking his beer. They clearly weren’t thinking of two very important things. First of all, in the process of jumping someone, it’s generally a wise idea not to call every single person in the bar’s attention to it right before you do it. Second of all-if the guy managed to kick all your asses once, even if you catch him by surprise-odds are he’s probably going to do it again.
Things began when he was gripped tightly by the shoulder, and it was a heavy blow to the jaw, sending him sprawling not so gracefully to the ground. He was pretty sure the guy had drawn blood. And while he had been determined to not get himself banned from every bar in Acapulco, no one picked a fight like that with him and got away with drawing first blood. No one.
So basically? It was on, now.
519 words
Fact of the matter was, he was still a boy. A fabulous looking, super soldier, genetically engineered boy, but a boy nonetheless. And boys are-distracted by certain things, no matter how in tune with the mission they are, or how interested they are in what you’re saying. Mickey happened to be a great big boy, who was very easily distracted by a nice low cut dress, and not only is it nice and low cut, it was actually filled out well. Mickey was a sucker for a woman who looked good in a dress and two weeks into his long stay in Acapulco, he came to the fantastic conclusion that not only was this the land of bikinis and legs, which were fantastic in and of themselves, it was also the land of women who really knew how to work a skirt. Unfortunately for Mickey, the ones who knew how to work a skirt usually weren’t the ones who were single either.
However, that lesson still hadn’t managed to sink in quite yet.
Because every time a flash of leg caught his eye, the distraction would lead to flirting, flirting might occasionally lead to something more than that, and that something more usually wound up getting into a bar fight with said distraction’s machismo boyfriend, who didn’t like this Australian bastard hitting on his woman. A bar fight which Mickey usually won-genetically engineered super soldier and all-but a bar fight nonetheless. He’d been barred from several cantinas littered throughout the town, and had just managed to land in what he considered the last one in town, one that he knew he couldn’t get into trouble in, because it wasn’t the type of joint that women that usually caught his eye usually sauntered into, so he figured he was safe. Apparently, not quite.
About two hours and three beers into Mickey’s visit, he was starting to play the appropriate drunk, when an earlier mark-the girl had been absolutely gorgeous, curves like an hourglass and one of the smoothest flirts he had ever met, second to himself, of course-stumbled in with his posse and decided they wanted to jump the unsuspecting wanker while he was sitting there drinking his beer. They clearly weren’t thinking of two very important things. First of all, in the process of jumping someone, it’s generally a wise idea not to call every single person in the bar’s attention to it right before you do it. Second of all-if the guy managed to kick all your asses once, even if you catch him by surprise-odds are he’s probably going to do it again.
Things began when he was gripped tightly by the shoulder, and it was a heavy blow to the jaw, sending him sprawling not so gracefully to the ground. He was pretty sure the guy had drawn blood. And while he had been determined to not get himself banned from every bar in Acapulco, no one picked a fight like that with him and got away with drawing first blood. No one.
So basically? It was on, now.
519 words