No More Mister Nice Guy Who: Dex When: Six months ago Where: Detroit Warning: Do not touch the younger Byrnes.
To an outside viewer, it seemed like a scene you would find in a thousand bars across the country. Loud music playing in the background, night fallen outside, people drinking and playing pool inside. In jeans and a button up shirt that was open at the collar, one individual with a pool cue in his hand did not particularly grab the attention of anyone. The dim lighting of the bar caught a few strands of his hair enough to illuminate the reddish gold color of it, as well as highlighting the gleaming white of his teeth mid laugh as he appreciated the joke of one of his fellow players.
Still, his clear blue eyes are not quite focused on the game at hand, as he once again misses the pocket with his shot. Instead his gaze flickered occasionally to the door, as if waiting for someone to arrive.
Never missing a beat in the conversation, Dex Byrne was lining up a rebound shot he only had a 50-50 chance of actually making, when that ‘someone’ walked in through the door. Those blue eyes narrowed momentarily, just before he took his shot and then straightened. The others playing alongside him teased him lightly about his lack of ability at the game, and he grinned along with them. He made a quick excuse that he had to go to the bathroom, but would be back, pressing a fleeting kiss across one of the women’s cheek with an air of playfulness.
Dex hummed an old tune as he moved through the various groupings of people in the bar, planning his route to deliberately intercept that of the man who had walked in just moments before. His timing was perfect, with the help of a little ‘push’ to make a server trip and spill a pitcher of water on his target, just perfect to catch the man heading to the bathroom to towel himself into some semblance of dryness again.
Using just the fingertips of one hand, the redhead pushed open the door for the other man. The newcomer looked over to mumble his thanks, only to have his eyes widen nearly comically as he realized just who he had met again. “Listen, Dex…I can explain. I-I swear!” The fear roiled off of him in waves, seemingly incongruent with the demeanor of the redhead.
An easy smile sliding onto his lips, his expression anything but threatening as he stepped inside and blocked off the path of escape, the Byrne in question nodded. “Oh, I’m sure you can Wes. I’m sure you can.” And then, as if a switch had been flipped, Dex’s eyes no longer showed anything easy-going and happy, but instead something darker and more dangerous. “The gun jammed. One of your guaran-fucking-teed to never jam Sig Sauers, well, it just happened to jam. Didn’t it?”
The newly labeled ‘Wes’ tried to argue, or perhaps make some assurance that he would make up for his error, only to be cut off as Dex’s hand shot out and clamped around his throat. Squeezing his grip with ever increasing pressure, the glaring eyes met the struggling man’s evenly. “You put me in danger. Put my siblings in danger.” Given that their previous meetings had only mentioned and/or involved the two older Byrnes, this admission did not signal anything good for the man who was beginning to see spots as his air supply was completely cut off. Information about the hows and whys of the crimes they committed were kept close to the family, definitely not shared with some gun running dealer.
Endangering Dex Byrne because of a faulty piece was a stupid, stupid decision. Endangering any of his siblings was akin to chugging a full bottle of Drain-o. It was not going to end with bunnies and flying cupids.
“Now,” with a tilt of his head, he observed the choking and reddening of his victim, “I would just love to spend several hours explaining to you why exactly that was such a stupid decision.” There was something of the charming façade bleeding into the darkness of his expression before it was once more banished. “But I have previous plans, and you are simply not worth the effort.”
Abruptly, he released the man, pulling his hand away as if touching something both disgusting and sticky. Dex slapped the gun dealer once on the cheek with a dark grin on his face, nearly playful once more. “I wish I could say I’d see you around later, but it’s best if we consider this a termination of our dealings, Wes.”
The other nodded, looking relieved, and feeling as if he had escaped what had seemed like his imminent death.
Dex was nearly back to the pool table again when there was a sudden sound that was a mingling of the shattering of glass from every mirror in the bathroom and the suddenly cut off scream of terror of a man. With everyone else’s attention diverted, and directed at what would soon be discovered to be the blood soaked corpse of Wes Packard embedded with hundreds of shards of glass, no one saw the quirk of a smile that twisted upon Dex’s lips.