Free Integrity Has No Bounds by Ryder Dane

was
selecting the type of whiskey that they wanted to take with
them.
    Sure enough, the fuckers wore Swamp King
cuts, but they weren’t fully patched, that disappointed him, but
they would work to further his purposes.
    “Hey, boys, now that ain’t a nice thing to do
to someone smaller than you are. Your big ass is squishin’ the
little guy. I’m sure he’d co-operate with you stealin’ from his
place of business, you don’t need to be hurtin’ him. Why don’t you
just steal what you can carry and let him go?”
    It was all an act, a good ol’ boy trying to
be helpful to the distressed clerk. The Rat straightened up from on
top of the boy and the other jumped down from the counter where
he’d been standing. Typical behavior, they were going to gang up on
him for interfering with their fun. Fuckin’ Rats .
    “Well, well, what have we got here, Willie?
Looks like a bad boy biker, but you ain’t bad ‘nuff for the Swamp
Kings? Is that why you ain’t wearing our colors? What the fuck is a
Lucifer’s Breed anyway. I’ll tell you, a Lucifer’s Breed is one
ugly motherfucker, that’s what you are. You a pussy man,
ain’cha?”
    Willie kept bobbing his head up and down
while the long-haired punk talked. If he wasn’t reaching for a
weapon, John would have laughed at the expression on the freckled
face. His hand held a pig sticker from his boot, and John had all
of the incentive he needed by law. He was unarmed, but played the
scene up for the security cameras that were located in every corner
of the room. He held his hands out to his sides and shook his
head.
    “You boys should just leave, if you come at
me with that toothpick, I’m gonna think you intend to do my body
harm, and I’m trained to hurt you if I have to.” He knew his words
would make the overconfident assholes laugh—he counted on it. Too
many Kung-Fu movies instead of cartoons must have been what they
were raised on.
    “OOwee, we got a real bad assed muthafucker
here, I’m skeered, ain’t you skeered, Mel?” Willie must’ve found
his voice when he got his weapon in his grasp.
    Now all he needed was for them to come and
get him before he schooled the punks. It took maybe five seconds
for him to break the wrist that held the knife, and another ten to
shove the little fucker’s head into the metal doorframe. Mel tried
to jump him from behind, and John sidestepped at the last second,
Mel landed on top of his pal who was now bleeding from a head wound
and moaning, while his prone body was blocking the exit.
    Like any other Rat would do, Mel tried to
yank Willie out from the doorway, but John grabbed him by the back
of his shirt and shook him. “You move him, and he might die, that’s
on you, asshole.”
    The little prick reacted to that just as John
figured he would, he started swinging his fists. He was allowed one
knuckle crunching punch, before John punched him in the gut, and as
he went down, rather than the traditional upper cut to the jaw,
John brought the side of his hand down on the boy’s collarbone,
halfway between his neck and shoulder. Mel was hauled over to where
Willie still laid bleeding.
    John walked back to the cooler, got his soda,
and came back to the desk to see the clerk watching him with eyes
widened. He looked like a fish gulping for water. “Sorry about the
mess, here’s a twenty to pay for the disinfectant and the soda.” He
leaned in closer to look the boy up and down. “Did they hurt
you?”
    The little guy shook his head and rattled his
brains enough to speak. “Oh man, that was so cool, where’d you
learn to do that?” He offered his hand for John to shake and a
friendship of sorts was formed.
    “Shouldn’t you call the cops or an ambulance
or something?” John wasn’t surprised when his new friend who
introduced himself as Tyler Butler, shook his head.
    “Last time they came into the place and my
sister called the law, they cut the hoses on the gas pumps and shot
the windows out. We usually let