The Porathians - Preview

The ‘Drunken Rockerz’ bar sat at the outskirts of the city of Manurois. Its Neon Sign flickered dimly under the darkness of the night. Inside, the air smelt of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. The usual crowd had been reduced to only a handful of patrons, some of which played poker, the others argued whilst listening to the digital jukebox playing rock and roll in the corner and drinking from their foam filled beer glasses.

The doors of the bar bang open as a woman storms in. Following her are two mountains of muscle with hands folded above hulk-like chests and snake tattoos covering their arms. Their heads were shaved and skin tight tees revealed every muscle under the thin fabric.

The way they silently followed the woman spoke volumes about her. She was a statuesque woman with black heeled boots reaching her knees. A dark violet lipstick highlighted her face, followed by a leather jacket with metal spikes on shoulders under which was a shirt saying ‘Death Killer’ and skin tight jeans. Few strands of her short hair were dyed in a dark shade of violet and she had the gaze of a predator with eye lashes painted—let me guess, dark violet? Hell yeah.

She strutted towards the wooden counter and cleared her throat for the bartender to take notice.

But it wasn’t just the bartender who took notice—everyone in the bar had their eyes glued to this mysterious figure who’s sheer presence was a symbol of intimidation and power.

The bartender was a short, skinny man. Barely taller than the wooden counter as he would usually tip toe while providing drinks to customers. He was an old man and the wrinkles on his forehead spoke more about him than words could express.

“Greetings…Beth…Beth…Bethany. I wasn’t expecting to see you so…soo… .soon.” Says the bartender in a shaky voice as he takes notice of her presence. “Please….sit and…have…have…a drink.” He smiles politely, the wrinkles on his forehead multiplying at the sight of her, betraying his composure, as he picks a beer glass and pours her a drink, half of which falls to the floor due to his shivering hands and places it in front of her.

Ignoring his offer, Bethany gets straight to the point. “Where’s my money, Jeff?” Her tone polite but deadly.

He struggled to gulp as he gathered the last remains of his courage and spoke in a voice which was almost inaudible. “Please….give me one….one…more…wee….week, I promise to return the…mo…mo…..money,” his shaky voice, filled with fear.

She smiles at his words. “One more week, huh?” She turns to look at her henchmen. “What do you say boys?” She asks curiously.

“Show this old bloke who he’s messin with, Boss.” Says the one on the left, in his raspy deep voice.

“You already extended the deadline for him. Now it’s time to make him pay, Boss.” Says the other in his thick voice.

Bethany turns back to meet Jeff’s gaze with a wide evil smile on her lips. “You heard them.”

Jeff places one of his hands on Bethany’s arm, desperately seeking help. “Please…I’ll do anything for you….don’t do this….we didn’t get much customers this week….please…try to understand…” He begs, but as soon as Bethany’s gaze falls on his hand, he quickly withdraws it from her arm. His tone, sad and apologetic.

Bethany pays no attention to his words as she turns back to her henchmen and gives them a firm nod. To which, they quickly tie up the poor old bartender’s hands, legs, mouth, move the bar stools aside and place him on top the counter.

As soon as their job is done, they rush towards the back of the bar. To avoid what was coming next.

Some patrons stopped beers midway to their lips. But those who knew Bethany, clenched their ears firmly, while the others stuffed them with anything they can get their hands on.

Bethany savoured every second of this. She felt as if she’s a goddess, about to punish those who disobeyed her. Every fiber in her body grew desperate at the anticipation of the storm, while the poor bartender could only shake his head as tears of regret, pain and sadness rolled down his skinny cheeks—still pleading her to stop.

Bethany paced in front of the counter— eyes fixed on the bartender, hungry, unblinking, like a predator circling helpless prey.

“I’m sorry, Jeff.” She said in a low, almost apologetic voice. A few seconds later, “Oh wait.” She smiles evilly. “I’m not sorry at all. In fact…” she takes a deep breath as if savouring every atom of oxygen in her lungs. “I’m actually gonna enjoy this,” she smiles coldly at Jeff, as her words crush the last bits of hope, he was desperately holding onto.

With that, she inhales deeply. The air around her vibrates and comes alive as her chest expands like a balloon and then she rips the beast out of herself in a scream, as her hypersonic sound tears through the air—crushing walls, vaporizing flesh, leaving nothing but pure wreckage in its path.

Bethany’s scream felt like an eternity of pain and agony before she decided to calm herself down. But what followed suit was fathomless destruction.

The entire front part of the bar was in ruins. The wooden counter—reduced to a pile of dust. Beer glasses which were once placed neatly on shelves—lay shattered into a thousand pieces.

But at the center of all this, lay the poor bartender’s unrecognizable body. Blood was splattered all around him.

The impact of Bethany’s hypersonic waves had eroded clothes and skin from his skinny body as the only thing visible was raw flesh, dangling from thin bones. The sound waves had torn a whole through the bartender’s torso, crushing his ribs and spine in the process—the gap was now filled with the filthy remains of his intestine. In simple words, his body looked as if it had been chewed up by a ravenous monster and spitted out because it didn’t like the taste.

A part of the bar had lost its light, due to the intense vibrations of Bethany’s scream. As for the patrons in the back, the world continued to be soundless to them—enjoying a few moments of peace before their hearing could be returned, as their eyes stared in horror at the only woman standing alive after the chaos.

Bethany.

After what felt like an eternity—some patrons rubbed their eyes in disbelief and started clapping, some clenched their bleeding ears and exited the bar, while the others lay unconscious along the shattered remains of their beer glasses.