"Let him go?"  The man's body didn't move.  His neck, a picture of stone pillars holding up a building, continued to aim the blank mask towards at the bartender.  "Who're you telling to let this man go?  Do you know who I am?  Who I'm with?"  The figure shook his head.  The neck creaked like rusted hinges being forced to move.  "No.  Of course you don't, or you wouldn't have opened your mouth." 

"Look...."  The man behind the counter said as sweat poured off him in cascades.  A ring of liquid form on his collar.  He lifted his arms in surrender, revealing more dark patches.  "There's no need to be aggressive.  Everyone needs to calm down, please.  I don't want any trouble."

"I told you already,I don't...."  The masked man paused at the sound of a new arrival.  Once again the head didn't move, and the body followed suit, but the blood lust that had to have been coming from the man's eyes was redirected towards the stranger at the door.  "A party" the figure said.  He was smiling now.  "We're having ourselves a good little party.  So come on in.  Attendance is mandatory."   He pressed the blade deeper into the man's throat.  Blood didn't start pouring, but the skin turned red with the pressure.    

"Sober!"  The masked man spit the words, probably regretting them instantly as there was nowhere for the saliva to go but back at him.  Of course, he wouldn't admit to the unpleasantness.  Instead, he focused his anger on the woman who suggested he let the booze take their leave from his system.  "Sobers the last thing I want!  I want to make the world go black and warm."

"Look, I'm sorry."  Bill said in the most relaxing tone a voice like gravel could produce.  "Just go, forget all this and I'll throw in a keg, you can take back to your boss."

"A keg?"  The man's voice went soft and his body slouched ever so slightly, like a giant finding himself under a house.  "A keg wouldn't be bad."  He pulled the blade away and tapped it against the mask's forehead.  "Tempting. 
 Tempting."  He twirled the knife as he spoke.  "But it's not going to do you any good."  The blade stopped in his hand, the dangerous end, as tradition would dictate, facing towards what it was, exactly, he wanted to poke.  

The blade shot forward.  A flashed of light flickered as it arched towards Bill's face.  Something flashed to the trouble maker's right like a snake after a mean.  Blood shot across the floor and the masked man screamed loud enough to cause nearby dogs to howl.  

"What?"  Though his eyes weren't showing, the man's confusion was evident.  It wasn't in his voice, or the way he moved his neck.  It was the fact there was a serrated blade going through his hand, through the handle of the knife, and past where several fingers used to be, and he wasn't screaming bloody murder.  Attached to the piece of steel there was the chain.  It dropped to the floor and slithered down to the feet of a woman the man hadn't noticed before.  She had purple hair.

"That's enough."  The woman muttered.  "Nobody here is interested in seeing this.  We all just want to drink and forget there's a reason for our drinks."

"you did this?"  The man said, holding up the remains of his hand.  The still chain jingled as he moved.  "To me, a member of the legion pirates."  He laughed.  "You must be crazy."  He raised his good hand and pointed at everyone in the room, even the drunks who were hoping they'd get out of everything unscathed.  "You're all crazy."  Quick as a snake he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red stick.  His thumb dug into the red material before shooting up, ignite the big match.  

The room flared green.  "Ha!  I win!"  The man, paused to look at Bill, who to his credit was smart enough to move out of range.  He didn't hesitate though.  Another target was close enough.  He swung his injured hand towards the woman with the juice.  while the other hand pulled back before tossing the green flare out the window at the opposite end of the bar. It sailed four feet past the window before bouncing off the tavern's deck and harmlessly onto the dirt on the back street.  

----
"Someone get that flare!"  Bill shouted.  He wanted to cry, was trying to do his best not to cry, but the tears were already welling up at the corners of his eyes like children waiting for the last day's school bell.