Season Greetings Everyone!
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Aghh!!
Jason slammed the glass against Morgan's skull with a sharp, cracking impact. The shattering sound echoed through the bar, and the broken shards rained onto the sticky wooden floor like glittering crystal fragments.
Morgan staggered, clutching his head as blood trickled through his fingers, trailing down the side of his face and dripping along his arm. His eyes burned with stunned fury. "Now you've done it," he growled, his voice thick with rage. "You are so dead."
His boys shot up from their seats immediately, scraping chairs back as they made a slow, angry approach toward the counter.
For the first time since Jason had met her, Miss Li's expression actually shifted. Her neutral mask cracked ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features as she stared at "Randy." She always assumed he was a responsible guy with a rebellious streak on his hair, a mystery guy with an introverted personality.
Right from their first encounter, she realized Jason was an unpredictable guy, but willingly smashing a glass over the head of a gang leader—with the whole crew present—went beyond stupid bravado. Even if some part of her wondered whether he was foolishly trying to impress her, this was reckless on an entirely different level.
"You're dead meat!"
"Get that fucker!"
Threats erupted from all directions as the Devil Men surged forward. The tension in the room tightened into something you don't feel everyday. Yet despite the commotion, Miss Li stayed seated, perfectly relaxed, her calm presence almost eerie in contrast to the chaos rising around her. She didn't seem worried, only mildly annoyed.
Morgan didn't throw the first punch. He didn't have to. He flicked his eyes toward one of his boys behind Jason. The man grabbed a beer bottle and swung it at Jason's head.
Jason pivoted fast—smooth and instinctive. His hand snapped up, catching the guy's wrist mid-swing. A quick strike to the nerve cluster under the arm sent a shock through the man's limb, causing the bottle to slip from his grip and shatter on the floor.
Before the man could react, Jason buried a fist into his solar plexus. The biker's breath left his body in a harsh wheeze as he lifted off the ground and flew backward, crashing into a table with enough force to send drinks flying.
Two more lunged at Jason, but he moved with effortless ease—sidestepping, ducking, letting their momentum work against them.
He redirected one into a group of cheering patrons who were clapping like it was a live action show, and flung the other straight into a booth, earning loud howls of encouragement from drunken onlookers. Nothing got the evening crowd going like a bar fight, especially when they weren't on the receiving end of it.
"Hey!!" Tim shouted from behind the counter, annoyance breaking through his voice. "Take it outside before you wreck my bar even further!"
Jason straightened, dusting off his hands as if he hadn't just knocked three men into furniture. "Sure, Tim. Sorry about the mess."
Morgan wiped blood from his forehead and grinned, a slow predatory curl of his lip. "See you out there, cowboy." He jabbed a finger toward the back exit before walking toward it. His men moved aside for him, then filled in behind, making sure Jason had no escape route—not that he planned on taking one.
Before stepping out the door, Morgan cast a glance back at Miss Li. "Some other time, cutiepie." He blew her a kiss with a smug smirk and disappeared down the hallway.
Li watched him go with narrowed eyes, then turned to Jason. "Randy, you don't have to prove anything. Let's just get out of here," she said, her tone a bit detached but firm.
"Who said anything about proving something?" he replied casually.
Her eyes narrowed further, studying him, confused by his nonchalance. Why else pick a fight with an entire biker crew?
"Maybe I just really want to bash that sucker's face in and humble him in front of his little fan club." His tone was light, almost playful.
Li actually chuckled—soft, surprised. She hadn't expected that answer.
"But they have weapons," she pointed out.
"Unless you have something up your sleeves, it's the same as walking into a death trap if you think going with nothing but a positive mindset would somehow get you out of there alive or with your limbs intact."
"True." Jason reached over and plucked a pen from the folded jacket beside her. "I'll be borrowing this," he said. "Though I can't guarantee you'll want it back after I'm done."
He gave Tim a small nod, one that said I got this—and started walking toward the back exit.
Li stared after him, baffled. A pen? Against a pack of weapon-carrying bikers? She wasn't sure if he was insane, suicidal, or simply confident enough to treat the whole thing like an inconvenience.
Still, she stayed put. She wasn't the type to get involved in other people's affairs.
And Jason… well, he clearly had every intention of settling the score his own way.
So she watched as a handful of Morgan's men followed Jason out back, their boots thumping, their shoulders squared like overcharged testosterone-fueled guard dogs ready to defend their pride, and the pride of their gang.
And Jason walked out with nothing but a pen in hand. Ready like he'd been waiting for this all night.
Not too long after, Jason stepped back in through the rear exit, the cold night air still clinging to him as he calmly made his way toward the seat beside Li. He didn't hurry or swagger, just moved with that strange ease he always carried, like the world never managed to rattle him.
"You're okay!?" she asked, instantly noticing the impossible—he wasn't sweating, wasn't breathing hard, and didn't have so much as a scratch on him. No bruised cheek, no split lip, not even a ruffled strand of hair. It honestly made her wonder what exactly happened outside.
"Of course I am. They were all bark and no bite," he said, sliding into the chair as he tapped the counter for Tim to pour him a shot of tequila.
"I know I said this before, but… sorry about the mess." Jason added while Tim filled the small glass and placed it in front of him with a resigned nod.
Li watched him knock back the drink in one smooth motion, acting like he hadn't just walked out into an ambush with a biker gang. He set the empty shot glass down with a soft clink.
"My pen," Li said, the memory hitting her.
"You haven't returned it."
"Oh, right." Jason wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "There was so much blood on it that I had to leave it behind. I'll get you another one—something nice, to remind you of me every time you use it.
He said it casually, even though the image flashing behind his eyes was anything but: the pen lodged deep in Morgan's neck, the man choking on his own blood, and the rest of the crew stumbling over themselves to run for their lives by the time he had dealt with more than half of the gang. He shoved the thought aside and exhaled through his nose.
"Let's get out of here," Jason said, pushing himself up from his seat. "The thought of that guy's face leaves a foul taste in my mouth."
Li gave a soft nod, gulping down the last of her drink before sliding her coat on and straightening it out. Jason dropped a few bills on the counter—more than enough—and set the empty glass on top as a paperweight.
"A little extra for the broken tables," he said.
Tim lifted a brow. "Just… try not to start another fight in my bar." Jason waved him off with a lazy flick of the wrist and headed toward the door, Li falling into step beside him.
Acting like the gentleman she didn't expect him to be, Jason pushed the door open and held it for her. The cool night air rushed in, brushing against her hair.
"For someone who starts bar fights," Li said, stepping through, "you do act like a gentleman at times."
"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents." Jason shot her a sideways look as his eyes swept the quiet street.
"Tell your driver he is done for the night. I'll drop you off." He nodded toward his bike—sleek, black, and different from the bold red one he uses for Red Hood activities.
Li followed his gaze to her car where her driver sat waiting. She lifted a hand, signaling him.
The man paused, confused, then slowly nodded and pulled away, likely surprised to see his employer—who rarely displayed interest in anyone—getting on a motorcycle with a stranger.
He drove off shaking his head. "If someone like her can find romance, then there's definitely a girl out there for me," he muttered to himself, still half in disbelief.
Back by the bar, Jason swung onto his bike and fired up the engine, the rumble vibrating through the pavement.
He zipped up his leather jacket with a practiced tug. Li lingered for a moment, watching him. The dark streetlights reflected softly off the bike's polished surface. Jason held out a helmet toward her.
"Safety first," he said with a small, almost teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She took the helmet, and with a bit of help from Jason, secured it over her head. Then she climbed onto the bike behind him, the leather of his jacket warm from his body heat.
"Hold on tight," he warned.
Li hesitated before gradually wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling oddly aware of how close they now were. The night air hit differently as Jason pulled out onto the street.
Her usual routine—work, home, repeat—felt far away. Tonight, she was on a motorcycle, arms around a mysterious stranger she has come to have an interest in, as they glided through the cold night air that rushed past them in crisp waves.
The streetlights blurred softly in her tipsy vision, glowing warmer, gentler than usual. It made the world feel almost unreal—like she had stepped into someone else's night, someone more reckless, someone freer.
She guided him through a few turns until they reached her home, and when the bike slowed to a stop, she reluctantly let go. Jason cut the engine and the whisper of
the night returned around them.
Li removed the helmet, her hair tumbling free as she handed it back.
"Quite a night, huh," Jason said, watching her with that unreadable half-grin.
She gave a small nod. "Thanks for the ride. It was… fun."
She turned and began walking toward her front door when Jason called out, "Hey, Li…" She paused and faced him, the cool porch light illuminating the faint warmth on her cheeks.
"I know standing up to Morgan and his crew might've seemed like I was trying to prove something… or acting like some knight in shining armor." He scratched the back of his neck. "You weren't a damsel in distress. You look like you can handle yourself just fine."
A mild awkwardness crept into his voice, despite how steady he tried to sound.
"But… when I saw him hitting on you, and taking my seat, and my glass, something twisted in my gut. I felt like I had to teach him a lesson—not to be covetous with people and things a man cares about. So… yeah. I'm not sorry about what I did. It's just who I am."
Silence settled between them—longer than a few seconds, shorter than forever, but enough for Jason to feel it. He stood still, pretending it didn't bother him.
Li suddenly let out a soft, unexpected chuckle. The faint smile on her lips softened her entire face, making her look warmer, more human, almost radiant.
"What?" Jason asked, confused. "Did I say something funny?"
"Not at all," she said, stopping herself from laughing again as she composed her expression into her usual calm—but not entirely cold—line.
Then she gestured toward the door. "Why don't you come inside for another drink? If you're up for it." Jason blinked, then grinned slightly.
"Sure. I don't see why not." He revived the bike back to life only long enough to roll it safely into her garage, closed the door behind him, and followed her inside—knowing his night was about to get a lot more interesting.