Accidental Villainy 15 (Patreon)

Even as Tara dashed upstairs and I started walking toward the door to open it before they broke it down, I couldn’t help but wonder whether they actually had a secret camera installed. 

It was hard to explain their horrible timing otherwise. 

I ignored my initial reflex of ignoring the situation and calling Tara back for the celebration of my invention. It wasn’t the first cocktail I invented, but the others barely deserved the name compared to that one. Sweet and sharp, with a lot of hidden depth that turned the sharpness into velvety obedience, the secretary was a cocktail that reflected Tara perfectly. 

Too bad our celebration was interrupted. 

As I walked toward the door, I wondered about who was my surprise rude guests. My first guess was the men of the Slasher, here for revenge for the last night … but I dismissed that soon. It might still be his men, but if they were here for revenge, they would have broken the door, or torched the place directly. 

Knocking the door insistently was rude, not murderous. 

I shifted the gun to the side slightly, safely hidden outside their view, but ready to be pulled in case of a threatening move. With Tara ready to intervene the moment I called, I shouldn’t be under too much risk, but that didn’t make extra safety measures a bad idea. 

When I opened the door, I barely held back from cursing. It was four goons, wearing the colors of the Slasher, which would have been bad enough. 

But I recognized two of them. One of the three was one of the goons from the night before, looking at me suspiciously enough to suggest that he remembered coming to my bar … but confused enough to suggest he had trouble putting the details together. 

I wondered whether the blow to the head or the alcohol did the trick. 

Worse, he wasn’t the one that made me feel alarmed when I noticed him. 

“Oh, Jason, long time no see,” said the other one I had recognized. 

Tyler, arguably the most annoying person I had ever met, his natural bullying tendencies were only weaker by his cowardice. He was a waiter at one of the bars I had occasionally worked. Saying that we were not on good terms would be an exaggeration. As a cowardly bully, he was quick to realize messing with me wouldn’t help. 

Instead, he tried to befriend me, which was, unfortunately, almost as annoying as being a target of his bullying. 

However, as he stood in front of me, the sycophant expression he often wore in front of me was nowhere to be seen, replaced by one that he no doubt thought as sharp and domineering like a bloodied assassin, but it reminded me of a playground bully. 

Even the source of his sudden confidence was clear. A ceremonial knife that was hanging on his belt, was designed as a simplified version of the blade that the Slasher famously used. 

Marking him as a unit leader. The blade was brand new, and adding in the fact that he was touching it repeatedly, it implied that his promotion was very recent. 

He was likely promoted because of the losses the Slasher received during his retreat, and I further suspected one of the higher-ranking lieutenants promoted him because he was easy to control. Unfortunately, Tyler lacked the understanding of such nuances, and looked at me proudly like I was just a bug. 

“Yes, Tyler, long time no see,” I repeated, giving a cool, calculated response, showing that I had no intention of pulling back. 

Tyler flinched a bit, looking around as if to make sure I was alone before he looked at me again, his beady eyes looked at me even more sharply. 

I hated doing so, but that was the only thing I could do. If it was someone else, I was willing to play the obedient bar owner, acting warm and welcoming, maybe plying them with drinks to keep them entertained. 

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work with Tyler. He was the kind of bully who didn’t know when to stop, and with his new position, he would push too much, to the point of humiliation to pay for my past disrespect. 

It was unpalatable, but if it wasn’t for one important detail, I might have considered that. 

Tara, watching the situation from upstairs. She was a submissive girl whose attraction was more about my facade than any real loyalty. Maybe it would be different in the future, but for the moment, she was the good girl who had just started to ride behind the bike of the school’s bad boy. 

She would have accepted me getting beaten and defeated — especially against four — but the same didn’t work for bowing and scraping. 

It was hard to respect a sycophant. 

So, I leaned against the bar, making no move to bring them any drinks, or even show them seats. I might have spat on Tyler’s face before his new position, and he would have gotten less angry. The other two goon was not too different either. 

Only the unfortunate repeat visitor had an expression, but the others missed it. 

“I see you have finally found a place that truly reflects your abilities as a bartender,” he said, snickering like he had just delivered an amazing joke. It earned two fake laughs from the goons, the kind that employees delivered when their boss made a joke regardless of the humor of the sentence. 

“Clever as always, Tyler,“ I said, my deadpan voice leaving absolutely no doubt about the disrespect in my tone. 

“Oh, really,” he growled, trying to sound threatening even as he gestured to his goons, and they took a step forward. 

I hated that pushing a physical confrontation was the best solution I was able to come up with. Unfortunately, the appearance of an old acquaintance ruined every single tentative plan I had. 

“Really. Maybe you should try a career as a true villain. Laughman. Plug your ears, or you’ll piss your pants.” 

“It’s good that living in squalor didn’t cure your arrogance, Jason,” he said, trying to keep calm, but halfway in, it turned into a growl that would have been threatening if it had come from someone else. “I always hated you turning your nose at me like you are better than me. It’ll be fun to stomp that out.” He turned to one of his goons, and gave an order. “Start breaking chairs.” 

Amusingly, he chose the one that had been doing his best to stay out, which meant he chose the one that had attacked the bar the last night. He didn’t move, his expression conflicted. “I see that you’re as useless as always,” I said. 

He turned to his goon. “What are you waiting for!” Tyler growled. 

He said nothing. “Why don’t you ask him what had happened when he tried to break in before,” I told him, making the goon look at me in shock. 

“T-that happened?” the goon asked me, hesitant. 

Tyler missed the undertone and gestured to one of the others. “You, start breaking—“ he started, turning his back to me. 

I really didn’t want to do what I was about to do. I had been hoping that Tyler, despite his stupidity, would realize that there was something wrong with the reaction of the goon. Or the goon would be smart enough to say something. 

What could one expect from the men who thought that not only being henchmen was a good career choice, but was also stupid enough to join one of the weakest villains. 

I pulled a gun and fired, aiming right between his feet, the bullet buried into the floor. He jumped in fear, while the goons retreated as well. A horrible choice. I wasn’t a combat expert, but even I knew that locked between four, and turning into a melee was their biggest advantage. 

It seemed that the Slasher’s henchmen situation was even worse than I had assumed. 

“Touch that gun, and you collect your brain from the floor,” I said. 

“You’re crazy,” Tyler gasped, too shocked to hold his tongue. “Do you know what the Slasher will do to you for challenging him,” he said. 

I corrected my thoughts once more. Apparently, it wasn’t shock that kept his tongue going, but the confidence he had for his boss. A stupid call, as even if I pulled the gun due to sheer reflex, once threatened by a villain famous for his violent retaliations, the best thing would be to kill them and run away. 

One of the goons realized that, his expression turning into abject terror, tensing for a suicide rush before I killed them. I caught his gaze and shook my head with a sharp smile even as I pulled out my phone with my empty hand. 

“It’s your lucky day, boys. Your stupid leader didn’t get you all killed,” I said as I typed a quick message to Tara. “Leave your weapons and your money, and you can leave.” They quickly put everything on the floor, except Tyler who still had a small bag in hand. “That as well,” I said as I shook my gun threateningly. 

“You can’t be serious, this is the money we collected for the boss,” he said. 

“I am. Now, you can treat it as a tribute he paid to my boss,” I said. “After all, we were here first.” 

“What do you—“ he started, before it was interrupted by a horrible screeching sound. He dropped his bag in fear.

“Let’s go and see what it was,” I said as I herded them out. Outside, they gasped in shock. The street was empty other than their car. “Nice convertible,” I chuckled even as I looked at the hood, violently ripped by Tara — who was already back in her room, watching the situation from the window, peeking from the curtain. 

“You — how,” Tyler gasped. 

“You’re not the only one that works for a villain, and unlike yours, mine was kind enough to assign me a proper bodyguard,” I said. “Now, I would prefer if you don’t mention this event to your boss. We want to stay hidden, and getting rid of an annoying fly would bring us too much attention.” Then, I paused as I looked at the discarded hood. “But, feel free to try us if you think your bones are stronger than your car.” 

With that, I turned and walked back into the bar. 

Wishing that I was halfway as confident as I was trying to look.