Quagmire: Day 11

Word Count: 66,027

Summary of Events:

Due to his unsettlement at the presence of the loiterer — who'd been hanging around for nearly a week — Jesse took Rose and bought her a gun — which she didn't appreciate — as well as taking her to a range to teach her the basics. He tried to track the loiterer and ended up being thwarted by a speakeasy doorman before being alerted by one of the gangsters who knew him to the fact that there was a meeting, due to the gang boss' rage at Jesse's publication of information regarding their speakeasy; the boss then noticed Jesse was unfamiliar and Jesse lied that he was a new recruit, which caused him to be taken aside for questioning and challenged to a fight by the boss to test his fists — a fight which Jesse dominated until the boss called in help . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"The man laughed. "Works every time."

"Should I pick him up boss?" a deep voice asked.

"Nah, let him lay there, see if his wit can figure out a way to get out of this," the man said.

"I'ld better be able to get up again," Jesse said.

"Yeah, in a few minutes," he said.

Rage boiled in Jesse at the complete and utter helpless state he was in. He was at the mercy of these men, and had only his mouth to save him if they planned on killing him or in any way uncovered his guise.

"Now, what are your skills, aside from a baffling wit?" the man asked.

"I'm a sharpshooter," Jesse replied.

"Oh," he said. "And?"

"I'm inconspicuous," Jesse replied.

"And?" he asked.

"I can beat people to a pulp with my fists," Jesse replied.

"And?" he asked.

Jesse left his mouth shut. He had no idea if he had any other skills, and he wasn't going to say he had any skills he didn't possess.

He felt sensation and power coming back to him anyways. He remained still, waiting for the sensation to fully return, instead of struggling to his feet.

"You still say you can beat people up," he chuckled.

"If your men wouldn't have come in to your defence I would've thoroughly walloped you," Jesse said. "You coward."

"Coward?" he asked indignantly. "I am a coward?"

"Yes," Jesse replied. "You are a coward."

"Now just watch what this coward is going to do to you," he said.

Jesse slid his arms back, surged to his feet, and started throwing his fists again, harder than ever, adding in the kicking of the man in the shins. The man backed up rapidly until he was pinned against a wall with Jesse slamming his fist into the man's face repeatedly.

"Men! Help me!" he called.

"See!" Jesse shouted, stopping his volley abruptly to seize the man's face. "You're a coward! Calling in your men to help you instead of offering even token defence against me!"

"Stop please," he said feebly, looking at Jesse with genuine fear in his eyes.

"Not until you say it," Jesse said, leaning into the man's face.

He stared into the man's panic-filled eyes for a few moments before pulling back, striking the man in the head twice more, and then slamming his knee up into the man's groin, which caused him to drop to the floor.

Jesse pinned him face down to the floor, bending both arms around behind him, and held him there.

"Say it!" Jesse ordered.

"No," he replied, his voice pained and almost whimpering.

Jesse drew his gun, cocked it, and drove it into the base of the man's skull. "Say it!"

"They're iron toothpicks," the man whimpered. "Strong, but skinny."

Jesse released his gun, uncocked it, and holstered it before helping the man to his feet.

"You're a hard-fighting kid," the man said, breathless, his face bloodied.

"I have no choice," Jesse replied."