Adventure of Behemoth 1

The back room of the bar hums with bad wiring and worse decisions. Behemoth looms over a workbench, half-lit by a flickering strip of neon, while cheap whiskey fumes and hot ozone hang in the air.

At the front door, a red laser dot jitters over the cracked frame, then the entrance blows inward. Corporate tactical enforcers flood the threshold, rifles up, faces hidden behind mirrored visors.

The drinking buddies at the table freeze mid-laugh, staring past Behemoth at the breach. Bottles rattle. A chair scrapes back too fast.

One enforcer slides a compact shield into place while another tracks the room with a smart-scope. Their muzzles settle on Behemoth's chest like a coordinated verdict.

Behind the rifles, the bar's exit is still open, but the line of fire cuts clean across it. The workbench is cluttered with half-built parts, tools, and something heavy under a rag, just within Behemoth's reach.

Behemoth’s pistol snaps up from under the ragged clutter. The first shot cracks the room open, and the lead enforcer jerks back as sparks jump off his visor.

The shield enforcer plants hard, but the round slams into the edge of the cover and shoves them sideways. The smart-scope line breaks for a heartbeat.

At the table, the drinking buddy ducks low, knocking a chair over as they scramble for the rear exit. Bottles scatter under their boots.

A second blast from Behemoth tears a clean warning path across the doorway, and the enforcers hesitate just long enough for the back room to clear.

The drinking buddy vanishes through the rear passage, shoulders hunched and alive, while the corporate line regroups in the breach.