The Phantom Thief and The Devil's Den (Part Two)

"How are you?" a man inquired a hint of flirtation in his tone.

"Hey," she responded in a matter-of-fact manner, her attention already focused on someone she knew.

The room resounded with the rhythm of the music, yet the woman found time to exchange greetings with those she recognized.

Approaching the bartender, she ordered a complex array of drinks. "Hi, I'd like a Marlhome Fire Tea, two Posha Classics, three Aquamarine Mixes, and...," she began.

"Gotta try the Khaft Slurpees while you're here. It’s good," the bartender interjected with enthusiasm.

She considered for a moment. "The Slurpees? Sure, thank you," she consented with a warm smile.

A few steps away, Logan couldn't help but engage in a conversation.

"That's a lot of drinks for one woman," he remarked with a curious grin.

"Hey, buddy, add that to my tab and throw in a Khaft Slurpee for me as well," Logan added, seemingly trying to initiate a connection.

The bartender overheard and nodded in agreement.

The woman glanced at him, her interest piqued. "Thanks, but no thanks," she responded coolly.

"Don't you at least want to know my name before you completely reject me?" Logan pressed determination in his eyes.

"I'm fine without it," she replied, her demeanor unruffled.

"Fine without it? It's Logan. Logan Larson," he introduced himself, making another attempt at sparking a conversation.

"Well, if you don't tell me your name, I'll have to make one up," he playfully threatened a mischievous glint in his eye.

"It's Tabura," she finally divulged.

"Tabura? No way! That's the name I was going to make up for you," Logan quipped, his sense of humor unshaken.

"Tabura what?" he inquired, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Just Tabura," she revealed, her response cryptic.

"They don't have last names in your world?" Logan questioned, intrigued by the mysterious woman.

"Tabura is my last name," she clarified.

"Well, they don't have first names in your world?" he prodded, trying to unravel the enigma.

However, she simply smiled and evaded further discussion. The two fell into a brief silence, the atmosphere buzzing with tension.

"So, a beautiful woman like you, still in body armor, alone in a bar... What brings you to a place like this?" Logan inquired, his voice filled with intrigue.

"Why don't you guess?" Tabura suggested.

"I might not know the right answer, but I do know the good one. Whatever you do should never be anything less than being true to yourself," Logan replied.

"Nice words for a man under the influence. But words whispered across bar tables often lose their charm," Tabura retorted.

"Can I be blamed for my efforts? All men are drawn to beautiful things, no matter how perilous they might be. I simply offer my desire," Logan added, his words carrying a touch of flirtation.

Before she could respond, a bald man abruptly interjected, his tone assertive. "This man isn't bothering you, right?"

"Beyond belief. But it's nothing I can't handle," Tabura replied calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

"You could handle me. That's an invitation," Logan interjected playfully, a hint of flirtation in his words.

"Hey, you'd better mind your manners," the bald man growled.

"Relax… Baldy. It was a joke," Logan said, this time tapping the man lightly on his left shoulder.

The bald man's patience wore thin, and he leaned in, addressing Logan with a threatening tone. "Hey, drunkard. Maybe you can't count, but there are four of us and only one of you."

Logan wasn't one to back down. In fact, he seemed to thrive on confrontation. "So get a few more guys, and it'll be an even fight," he quipped, tapping the man on the cheek.

However, the situation escalated quickly. The bald man, insulted and angered by Logan's lack of respect, lunged at him with a powerful punch to the face.

Logan's head collided with the bar counter, and he crumpled to the ground.

Tabura's attempts to mediate and defuse the situation proved futile. Logan, still reeling from the effects of alcohol, managed to get back on his feet.

Disregarding the pain in his head, he aimed a swift kick at the bald man's chest.

The conflict erupted into a full-blown bar fight as the bald man's three companions joined in.

The brawl intensified, with other patrons either spectating or placing bets on the outcome.

The outlaw zone usually has similar rules as the others.

It is forbidden to kill someone in the area. If you kill someone, the rest of the residents and visitors may kill you.

That’s why bar fights are done by fist fights with no intention to kill.

Initially, Logan displayed some dexterity, dodging blows and delivering punches.

However, due to his intoxicated state and fading awareness, his punches lacked force and accuracy, barely affecting his opponents.

The odds quickly turned against Logan as the three men closed in on him, landing blows on his body and face.

Now the baldy also joining the fight kept punching Logan while he was down.

Blood trickled from Logan's mouth and nose. He was severely outnumbered and overpowered.

His adversaries, driven by their anger and arrogance, had little intention of ending the brawl without asserting their dominance.

Despite Logan's compromised state, he still possessed a fighting spirit, refusing to surrender. But it was apparent that he needed help or a way out.

"This is the reason why you should never mess around with me, Stare Fry!" the bald man declared with a sense of self-importance.

The other crowds and Stare Fry's companions roared with cheering. His ego seemed to be inextricably tied to his peculiar name.

But their cheering is interrupted by Logan’s laugh so loud that the cheering stops.

"Oh… oh, I'm sorry. Your name is... it's Stare Fry?" Logan asked, a bewildered grin on his battered face.

"That's right," Stare Fry confirmed with a trace of annoyance.

"Can you burn people with your eyes?" Logan inquired, humor dancing in his voice.

"It’s metaphorical!" he exclaimed, drawing more cheers from the crowd.

But Logan couldn't help himself.

"For what?" Logan asked, bemused.

"For it is a name that strikes fear into the hearts of anyone who hears it," Stare Fry proclaimed.

The murmurs in the room grew more audible as the patrons considered the audacious name's implications.

"Okay... whatever you say," Logan responded with a wink, further fueling the amusement of the crowd.

"You shut up," Stare Fry growled, losing patience with Logan's persistent mockery.

But Logan continued to snicker.

"What!?" Stare Fry demanded.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I just keep imagining you waking up in the morning, sir, looking in the mirror and, in all seriousness, saying to yourself, 'You know what would be a really kickass name?... Stare Fry!'" Logan teased.

Laughter erupted once again throughout the bar, with patrons and Stare Fry's friends all sharing in the mirth.

"That's how I hear you in my head!" Logan continued to jest.

Stare Fry's frustration was palpable, but Logan's irreverent humor struck a chord with the audience, who couldn't help but join in on the ridicule.

"And what was your second choice?... Stir Fry!?" Logan asked, provoking another wave of laughter from the onlookers.

"New plan. I'll take you outside and just kill you today," Stare Fry declared, his patience worn thin.

"Well, dying is certainly better than having to live an entire life as a moronic shitbag who thinks Stare Fry is a cool name," Logan retorted, his humor unabated.

The room erupted into laughter, drowning out Stare Fry's threats and further exacerbating his frustration.