Chapter Text
Maverick was not looking forward to his retirement ceremony, pinned to the floor by a star at his collar. His face was a perfect reflection of his mood.
“You’re looking cheery,” Bradley noted, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping a rhythm on the window.
“Focus on the road, kid,” Maverick answered, probably a bit unfair.
Bradley did not seem upset by it. He grinned cheekily, deliberately looking at Maverick over his sunglasses.
Maverick just rolled his eyes and did not even intend to correct him another time. It did not matter, they were nearing the bar: one last hooray before official retirement the following morning.
“What is that?” Bradley said, straightening in his seat and slowing down.
A dog wandered on the road, its fur stained red over its spine, like blood dripping down its sides, its leash dragging behind.
Bradley pulled the car over, hand reaching for the handle. Maverick grabbed his arm, seeing a man emerge from the side of the house, twitching forward more than walking. When he came into view, they discovered that he had half of his leg chewed out.
“Keep driving, I’ll call the emergency services.”
“Mav, we gotta help him.”
“Yeah, and this man is not looking too fresh. We’re not joking with rabies. Drive on.”
Maverick composed 911 and waited. And waited. And waited.
By the time, they pulled to the bar, he was actively cursing. He put his phone on speaker and crammed it in his pocket, accompanied by the incessant dial tone. It put him on edge, like a missile locked in and ready to go.
He pulled himself out of the truck, sighing. He looked around.
There was something not quite right about the window. Maverick could not pin it directly, but foreboding curled on his shoulder like a parrot, speaking an intelligible warning on repeat.
"Bradley," he said, knocking on the roof of the car.
Bradley hummed, lifting himself outside, shrugging his jacket on, worn brown leather and patches, not too dissimilar to Maverick's. He turned to Maverick, waiting expectantly.
Maverick showed the bar with a flick of his head.
"Weren't we supposed to meet the others here?"
Bradley turned to the bar, the empty windows, the lightless inside.
"Penny’s closing today?"
Maverick shook his head. "Didn't tell me anything about it."
Bradley bent to take the keys out of the ignition and closed his door sharply. Maverick followed suit and cautiously crossed the parking lot. Something there did not sit correctly in the frame of his mind, but he could not make sense of it.
He balled his fists in the pockets of his jacket. The door was ajar. Maverick breathed in, quick and reflexing. This did not feel good in the slightest.
"Fuck's sake," he muttered, creeping by the door to take a peek through the window.
The bar was a mess, more akin to a brawly-end-of-the-night than the start of a shift.
"Shit," he spit out, and without giving any indication to Bradley, pushed the door open.
Chairs were upturned on the floor, liquors sluicing through the hardwood planks where their bottles had been smashed, the pool table completely shattered.
"Oh fuck. Penny!" Bradley called, stepping through the mess, walking to the bar. "Penny!"
Maverick stood there, not certain what he had just walked into, when he heard a rasp.
"Bradley," he called, blood cold as ice. He did not dare raise his voice.
Bradley bent over the bar, looking under, coming back up with worry sitting tight between his eyebrows.
"Bradley," Maverick repeated. His instincts were screaming to pull them out of here, something primal, sitting in his gut directed the shiver in his spine.
Bradley looked back at Maverick, body drawn taunt, shoulders squared. There was fear in his eyes. Maverick tried to swallow past the knot in his throat. They had to leave.
Then, he saw her.
Penny was on the other side of the room, blood sticking her shirt to her skin. She took a wobbly step forward, arms jerking at her sides. The breeze blew from the open door, lifting the curtain of her hair and revealing the torn half of her face, a great sheet of blood and gore.
Maverick could not even speak or call out to her, moving forward before he had thought it through. Bradley turned to look at her.
“Shit,” Rooster said, “Penny are you alright?”
She rasped, jerking forward. They could see her teeth through the tear of her cheek, gnawing at air.
Maverick took the couple of steps that separated him from Bradley and took him by the arm, pulling him closer.
"Okay," Maverick said very low. “I don’t have a good feeling about that, Bradley.”
Bradley swallowed, looking back at Maverick with his full focus. He nodded.
Maverick cleared his throat, tightening his hold on Bradley. "Penny, are you doing alright?"
Penny took a step, then another, seeming to grow in confidence with each one. She had yet to speak. Maverick felt the unease in his stomach and held it tight, trying to keep it from rising in his throat.
"Penny, can you talk?"
She didn’t. She charged them.