Wrote this while listening to AC/DC's thunderstruck, recommend it for reading accompaniment. Hope you enjoy :)

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Robert Patrick. Ex-military, built like a brick shit-house. Thick handlebar moustache and shaved head. The man was the absolute epitome of intimidating in his denim jeans and black leather jacket. He sat at the bar on a stool that creaked under his weight, already polishing off his third beer of the morning.

Tracy, the robust barmaid, was making her rounds at the largely empty tables. She was tough as an old school Hilux, and twice as rugged, yet even she wouldn't look Big Bob in the eye as she passed. He was the meanest motherfucker this side of Coober Pedy. Nobody messed with Bob. He slammed his drink down.

"TRACE!" He bellowed "Anutha thanks luv"

Tracy nodded "Coming Bob" before hurrying off to fetch the man's drink, not eager to keep the volatile giant waiting.

Big Bob had already put down one bloke early that morning, with a king hit that clean snapped the poor bastard's neck. He was always grumpy when he'd killed a man before the sun was even fully up.

As Tracy poured the foaming beer, the earth shook briefly, just barely enough for customers to see their drinks shiver. It was a loud crack, followed by the roar of a powerful motorcycle drawing closer, that most caught people's attention.

As the roar died down tenants began turning their eyes to dusty bar's door, curious about the new arrival. They didn't have to wait long.

The thick oak door flew open, little bell ringing to announce the presence of this newest guest. Within its frame, silhouetted by the nearly risen sun, stood a tall, stocky woman clad fully in black leather. Her dark hair was shaped into a short mohawk, a wicked scar covered her right eye and cheek and she wore a tattoo above her left brow that read, in crimson letters: Queen Bitch

Even Big Bob stopped a moment to stare. The woman stared right back. Meeting the eyes of everyone in the bar one by one, until they turned away. Bob didn't turn away. Their eyes stayed locked for a long time. The other customers began to fidget uncomfortably, though they stayed silent. The woman's lip was curled into a vicious sneer as she strode toward Bob.

She reached the bar and, never once taking her eyes from the huge man's own, reached over, took his beer out of his hand and proceeded to chug it down right in front of him. The entire establishment was deathly silent as the woman finished the drink and slammed the empty mug onto the counter.

"Aaaaaah that hit the spot"

She eased herself onto a stool, her broad shoulders almost matching Bob's own.

"That was my beer" said Big Bob, eyes wide in fury.

"No, that was my beer. You got a problem chunky? Or you gunna be a good lad and sit the hell down and shut the hell up?"

That was it. People gasped in horror. Bob stood up and put his meaty hand on the woman's shoulder, ready to pull her off the bar so he could bury his fist in her gut.

"Ohh wrong move fatso"

The woman sighed as she spoke, then put her hand over Big Bob's own and pulled it across her chest and with her other hand, slammed Bob's face into the counter.

Even as the gargantuan specimen of a man slid to the floor, the imprint of his face clearly and forever defined upon the bench, the woman stepped off her stool.

"The name's Jessica asshole. Queen bitch of hell. And that was my fucking beer"

Jessica pushed Bob onto his back and placed her heel over his throat.

"Tell me you're sorry, little man"

Big Bob sputtered a few words as he struggled to breathe. Jessica leaned in closer, putting further pressure on the man's windpipe.

"I can't hear you"

"I-I'm sss... sor-sorry"

Jessica smiled sweetly.

"Good boy"

Then she crushed his neck, slowly, and painfully. Ignoring the man's attempts to push her off, as well as his breathless squeals. When she was done she looked up and around the bar, surveying everyone before her eyes.

"This place, this... bar. It's mine now. You hear me? I'll be back in a few days to collect my profits. Any complaints and you'll all get to experience how this fat bag of meat feels right now"

Silence.

The woman stepped away from the body and leisurely strolled toward the door. One brave fellow approached her as she walked.

"Call me?" He said as he held out a piece of paper with a hastily scribbled phone number upon it. Jessica considered his shaking hand for a moment, then spat clean into the guy's eye.

"I don't call sad sack, limp dick little pustules of piss"

The bell on the door rung as Jessica left. And shortly thereafter the roar of her bike announced her departure.

"Well shit. Now I gotta clean that up" Muttered Tracy in Dead Bob's direction.