Maximus

He waited until Haley had driven away before actually entering the bar.

The place was a shithole. There was no other way to describe it. The bar was right off the side of the road, in its own area. There were no other buildings around it. The sign on the road simply read Tavern. No name, no advertising, nothing. Simply a sign indicating there was a place that sold booze.

As he walked up to the stucco-lined faded-yellow walls, Maximus realized that was more than the building itself said. There was no sign. Nothing. Not even an Open sign. There were a few cars in the lot though, and a handful of motorcycles as well. So the place was open, but it must only be frequented by regulars. He doubted any of them would mess with him. Maximus wasn’t concerned about getting hurt, he simply did not want to create a scene.

Pushing open the solid wood door, he walked into the little foyer area. It was dark. The door closed rapidly behind him, leaving him in complete darkness. Unaffected by it as his night vision kicked in, he pulled open the inner door. This one had glass in it, but it had all been covered up by black paint at some point.

They don’t want any sunlight in here. It must be a real winner.

It was.

The place was massive, and most of it was lined in darkness and shadows. He’d emerged into the middle of a rectangular room. To his right were tables. Toward the back of the room along the right-hand wall was the bar itself. Straight ahead, more tables, and off to his left, lining the entire wall, were rows of booths.

Everything was shrouded in darkness. Potlights hung from the ceiling in regular intervals, but only one bulb in every six, perhaps, was working. He stepped forward, feeling peanut shells, glass, and probably other things as well all crunching underfoot as he quickly identified the patrons within. None of them were going to be trouble, he could see that immediately. Almost everyone was sitting alone, and they were all clearly inebriated to varying degrees.

Figuring that as a newcomer he wouldn’t get any service if he sat at a table, Maximus made his way to the bar, well aware of all the unmasked stares coming his way. There were perhaps twenty people in the place, but it was so large it felt empty. Three sat along the bar, with a minimum three seats between them. He picked the largest opening and plunked himself down in front of it.

Eventually a haggard figure shuffled down toward him, a dirty rag thrown over one shoulder. Maximus desperately hoped that wasn’t what he used to clean the mugs.

“Beer,” he said in a gruff, but polite tone.

The bartender sized him up. “Five.”

Maximus lifted his eyebrows.

“You’re new.”

The bartender was a man of few words, it would seem. Still, the point was clear enough for him to understand. He was the newcomer. An unknown. So there was no trust. Which meant he had to pay first. Maximus nodded, then reached into his pocket. Each of the brothers had been given a bit of cash when they’d come into the city to take over Haley’s show. Just in case.

Now he was thankful that he’d accepted the charity from his brothers’ mates. He slapped a twenty onto the counter.

“Bottles only,” he growled as the stubby fingers of the pock-marked man with his graying black hair pulled into a ponytail tried to make the bill disappear. He wasn’t going to risk drinking from one of the glasses, and he wanted to ensure the bartender didn’t try to serve him the likely watered-down shit he served his regulars.

“Yeah,” he said grumpily, but he didn’t argue. Most humans didn’t with someone Maximus’s size.

Maximus lifted his finger, and the bill disappeared faster than he could blink. A moment later, a bottle of beer replaced it. He snatched it up and lifted it to his lips. Human beer tasted good, but it was extremely low in potency for his metabolism. It was annoying, but he didn’t want to get drunk just then anyway.

“Oh fuck them!”

The sudden outburst made Maximus want to spin, but he forced himself to try and look like he didn’t care, taking a long pull from the bottle first. Then he turned lazily in his chair to see who had made the noise. It was pretty obvious. The man next to him at the bar was currently cursing at the television. Maximus glanced up, and the bottle froze halfway to his lips.

Though muted, the unit was currently replaying his segment with Haley. Subtitles appeared, with his name, and the condensed version of his message against the Institute.

“Pipe down, Charlie,” the bartender said dully.

The patron, a middle-aged balding man wearing an ugly yellow shirt stained with…who knew what, tossed up his middle finger to the bartender.

“Fuck you, Walt. You don’t know shit about them. I do. I know all about the fucking Institute,” he said. His words were slurred, but perfectly comprehendible. The sign of someone working their way up to a magnificent drunk, but who hadn’t gotten there just yet.

“Oh yeah, Charlie?” the bartender replied while Maximus watched curiously. “Lemme guess, they snatched you up too, ‘cause you’re a shapeshifter in disguise?”

Several other patrons in the bar laughed. Not Maximus. To him, the Institute was no laughing matter. Nor, apparently, was it to Charlie.

“No, you asshole. But they took my sister.”

He inhaled sharply, then ducked his head low as faces turned his direction. His image was still on the screen and he didn’t want any of them making the connection. So Maximus kept his face buried in the bottle and didn’t look up for anyone. It was so dark he doubted any of them would be able to identify him. Besides, they’d have to be sober enough as well, and that was unlikely.

“Your sister?” Walt seemed mildly intrigued.

“Yeah. They’ve been taking all kinds of girls from Longhorne,” Charlie said, taking another long drink. “Said that if you come with them, and volunteer to get impregnated, they’ll take care of you. A house, food, medical care, and money to raise your baby.”

Walt snorted. “Sounds too good to be true.”

“Exactly. I told her not to go,” Charlie said, finishing his beer. His words were becoming less intelligible. “Bu’ she went ahnywhay. Ya know? Now they fuckin’ gots her.”

Maximus was more shocked by Charlie’s descent into drunkenness than he was with what the man was saying. He already knew all about the Institute’s attempt to impregnate human women with shifter DNA, to create a whole new race of half-breeds, while also eliminating any female shifters born from such unions. Males were to be raised from birth simply as slaves to impregnate the next wave of women once they were old enough. It was horrific.

Now though, he was seeing the effects of it firsthand, and it raised another question in his mind. What was going to happen to all the already-impregnated women once the Institute fell? He couldn’t stop the downfall of the organization. That had to happen, and judging by Haley’s reaction to the radio earlier, it might be happening faster than any of them had expected. This modern technology of theirs was a true marvel at how fast it could share information. Maximus wasn’t sure he would ever get used to that.

But they needed to do something about all the women already impregnated by the Institute. The ones who weren’t with child could just be returned to where they came from. But what about all of those who were too far along for that? He couldn’t just dump them back into their former lives. Most of them he knew had come from lives where they were too poor to do anything. Life with the Institute had seemed like their ticket out of such a life. He couldn’t just abandon them.

So what did he do? He wasn’t sure, but Maximus vowed then and there that they wouldn’t be discarded like so many others had been. He would find a way to ensure they were looked after.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Charlie,” Walt said.

“I hope so. Haven’t heard from her in two months. As soon as she shipped off to their facility, it’s been radio silence. I’m worried.”

His concern for his sister blasted through his inebriation momentarily. Maximus couldn’t just stand by any longer.

“What is your sister’s name, Charlie?” he asked, his voice a deep thunder that filled the room.

“What?”

“Her name,” he repeated. “What is her name?”

“Uhh, Karen,” he said, wiping his hands nervously on the yellow shirt as he turned to face the hunched-over figure of the titanic shifter. “Why?”

“Because,” Maximus said, still not looking up. “What’s her last name?”

“Granger,” came the cautious reply. “What’s it to you?”

Maximus looked up at last, meeting the worried looking eyes of Charlie.

“Because I’m going to find her for you, Charlie. I’m going to find her, and I’m going to bring her home. I promise.”

It took a moment, but then he saw both Charlie and Walt’s eyes widen. First one, then the other turned to look at the TV, then back to him. They repeated this several times. Other patrons in the bar began to catch on, and a sudden rustle of noise filled the building as people began to talk.

“You’re…you’re him,” Charlie stammered.

Maximus just upended his beer in answer. Walt had a fresh one ready before he even set the empty down.

“Thanks,” he said, happy to have ingratiated himself as an accepted patron now.

“You’re really going to take the Institute down?” Charlie asked, sounding almost hopeful.

“Or die trying,” he confirmed.

“Thank you,” Charlie said with emotion uncharacteristic of a drunk. “They are a plague on this city. Nobody wants to talk about it, but most people have heard of them. They’ve been taking women for some time now. The city knows, but every woman that goes with them is often one less mouth for their shelters to feed. So they turn a blind eye, y’know?”

The realization that maybe his sister would be saved seemed to have energized Charlie, blasting through his buzz and making him coherent again.

“I understand. They have done a lot to my people as well,” he said, trying not to focus on all the people he knew that had been killed because of the Institute. People who were better than him, people much less deserving of an early death than he was.

Not for the first time Maximus faced his own demons, wishing that others had been spared, and that he could have gone in their place. Struggling through it, he pushed those thoughts aside. He didn’t want to die now. Not the least of which because he wouldn’t be able to see things through with Haley. But also, he was so close to toppling the Institute, to ensuring that no more would die by their hand. If he could just do that, perhaps he would find some peace, some solace, at having been spared.

Part of his goals had been achieved. The Institute had been exposed, and now it would be up to the human public to demand their shutdown. But that didn’t mean he was successful. Not yet.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Charlie said, motioning to Walt.

Maximus nodded his appreciation. Every beer helped to lessen his fear for Haley’s safety. There was precisely nothing he could do from his location besides trust her, like she had trusted him. So he would drink. While he did that, Maximus would contemplate the final action he had to complete, the last task that would finish the Institute off.

“Cheers,” Charlie said and they clinked bottles.

He had to kill G. Reashallow.