The ear-splitting crash of a pool cue snapping against a table punctuated the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass. The bar, moments ago a refuge for relaxation, was now a whirlwind of violent motion. Alex Hayes met the gang leader's charge head-on. He parried the pool stick, letting the heavy wood glance off his braced forearms, then drove his shoulder into the man's chest.
The chaos lasted only a few minutes. Alex's three bodyguards quickly neutralized the most aggressive threats, focusing on disarming the bikers who were grabbing chairs and bottles. Val Kilmer, Anthony Edwards, and Brian Benben, though clearly out of their element, threw clumsy, adrenaline-fueled punches that managed to keep several gang members off Alex and the bodyguards.
The fight was nearing its inevitable conclusion, turning from a brawl into a decisive rout, when the flashing blue and red lights of a siren pierced the air outside.
Six uniformed police officers burst through the swinging doors, their hands immediately going to their weapons. The scene that greeted them was a tableau of defeated aggression: overturned tables, spilled beer soaking the floor, and roughly a dozen large men either groaning on the ground or stumbling to get up.
The leading officer, a weary-looking Sergeant, drew his weapon and yelled, "Police! Freeze! Everybody stop right now!"
The Sergeant's eyes settled on the final, defining action of the fight: the young, handsome man who had been the target of the night's venom—Alex Hayes—was connecting a precise, powerful elbow strike to the side of a burly, bearded biker's head. The force was enough to send the bearded man down instantly, collapsing like a sack of potatoes onto a pile of broken furniture.
Alex immediately registered the Sergeant's drawn gun. He froze, instantly raising his hands into the air. The two bodyguards who were still standing, mirrored Alex, raising their hands. The three or four remaining gangsters who were still on their feet—their faces a mix of blood, shock, and defeat—slowly began to comply.
Val Kilmer, Anthony Edwards, and Brian Benben, who were on the floor but slowly began to raise themselves, settling cautiously onto nearby chairs. Mia Sara and Madeleine Stowe were in the corner, visibly shaken but unharmed.
The police began their inquiry, rapidly separating the witnesses. The Sergeant quickly gathered the gist of the conflict from the bar owner and the non-combatant patrons: the biker gang had initiated continuous provocation and crude verbal attacks, which Alex Hayes, the film star, had pointedly ignored until the middle-aged man bravely intervened.
The Sergeant then turned to the other arresting officer. "Who's the middle-aged guy? The one who started arguing with the scum?"
The younger cop glanced toward the corner booth and then leaned in, whispering urgently into the Sergeant's ear. The Sergeant's eyes went wide with surprise.
"Really? Captain Miller? Where is he?"
The cop pointed to a quiet booth near the back, where the middle-aged man was being tended to by his wife, who was gently dabbing a bruise on his cheek with a napkin.
The Sergeant immediately walked over to the booth, and executed a sharp, respectful salute.
Miller waved his hand dismissively. "At ease, Sergeant. Don't make a big deal out of it."
The Sergeant asked what happened, and Captain Miller gave him an accurate, concise account of the entire evening, confirming that the verbal abuse had been non-stop and that the fight only started when the gang threatened him directly.
"Captain," the Sergeant asked, bewildered, "with all due respect, why didn't you just identify yourself? Flash your badge? They'd have backed right out."
Miller rubbed the developing bruise on his cheek, a slight embarrassment crossing his face. "I tried to tell them I was a cop, but I didn't have my badge or ID on me. They just laughed and called me 'grandpa.' You know how it is when these shits get their blood up."
Satisfied he had all the facts, the Sergeant directed his team to begin booking the biker gang members. Captain Miller, escorted by his now-relieved wife, walked over to Alex's booth.
Mia Sara was carefully cleaning a small, light cut on Alex's lip and examining his bruised knuckles. The injuries were superficial, nothing a little movie makeup couldn't easily conceal the next day.
"Young man, thank you for the support," Captain Miller said, extending his hand. "That was damned foolish of me to charge in like that, but I couldn't stand their behaviour."
Alex took his hand in a firm shake. "Thanks to you, Captain, for standing up for me. But," Alex said with a slight, mischievous grin, "you need to try to keep your temper."
Captain Miller's wife laughed heartily, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Thank you, Alex, for pointing that out. I always tell him the same thing!"
Miller just laughed, a genuine, embarrassed chuckle, the stiffness of the earlier confrontation finally dissolving.
"So," Alex asked, getting straight to the point, "should we need to come to the station? We're on a tight schedule."
Miller shook his head. "No need. We've got clear statements from the bar owner and a dozen other patrons. The gang initiated the assault. You and your people were defending yourselves and me. You can just give your brief statements to the patrolmen here. You are all free to go."
Alex expressed his sincere gratitude. As they prepared to leave, Captain Miller's wife stepped forward.
"Alex," she asked shyly, "this is a terrible thing to ask after all that, but... would you mind? Could we possibly take a photograph with you?"
Alex smiled warmly. "It will be my pleasure, ma'am."
The bar owner, who had been frantic about the damage, quickly produced a camera he usually used for inventory. He snapped several pictures of Alex, Mia Sara, and the Millers. Several of the younger cops also took the opportunity to take quick photos.
Before leaving the damaged bar with his group, Alex stopped, turning to the owner.
"Look, Sir, I'm really sorry about the mess." Alex apologized sincerely, pulling out his card and quickly jotting down his agent Paula's number on the back. "This is my card. The number for my agent, Paula, is on the back. Give her a call first thing in the morning, and she'll cut a check right away for the full repairs—the windows, the tables, everything. And once again, I apologize for the trouble."
The bar owner nodded with massive relief and gratitude. Alex clapped him on the shoulder and steered his entourage out into the quiet Nevada night.
Val Kilmer, bruised but utterly exhilarated, grinned at Alex. "Well, that," Val said, flexing his knuckles, "was the most exciting thing I've done all year, bar none. Right up there with being in a fighter jet."
The whole group burst into relieved laughter at that comment.
As they stepped into the cool air, Val Kilmer, still riding the high of the fight, reached into his jacket. "You look like you need this, Maverick," he said, offering a cigarette from a pack.
Alex rarely smoked, but the intense adrenaline crash hit him hard. He took the cigarette. "Yeah, just tonight," he admitted, lighting it with a borrowed match.
Madeleine Stowe, walking alongside her husband Brian, looked at Alex. "Tell me this isn't your first time in a proper bar fight, Alex," she asked, a mix of concern and admiration in her voice.
Brian, Madeleine's husband, chimed in. "It can't be. I remember reading something... didn't he catch that serial killer in L.A. a couple of years back?"
Mia Sara nodded, confirming Brian's memory. "That's right. I was there when he took him down. That was wild," she said, still sounding a little breathless from the night's events.
Anthony Edwards looked over at Alex, shaking his head slightly. "And don't forget the three armed robbers in that convenience store," he added.
Val Kilmer looked at the cigarette-smoking Alex, a genuine look of awe replacing his earlier exhilaration. "Man, it seems trouble always seems to find you," he observed, truly impressed.
Alex just smiled, taking a long, slow drag, and walked to their hotel nearby.