*Barn3tt, who had been gazing down into his glass of beer, looked up at Sargmacher across the other end of the table, staring straight into his eyes. Sargmacher held the stare, as zultar quietly faded out the piece of music he was playing on the piano, shut the lid and looked nervously over at the two men.
"No", says Barn3tt softly, "this is not over, Sarg. You crossed a line with your freedom of speech call. Now...now you will pay."
Quickly and suddenly, Barn3tt has pushed his chair away from the table, stood up, and is holding a gun stretched out in his right hand pointing directly at Sargmacher. Sargmacher, like a demi-God, had recognised the intention and, almost to the second, mimicked the actions of his partner across the table.
"Don't be stupid, Barny," says Sargmacher, slightly raised, "This isn't the time or the place."
Zultar is quietly shuffling his piano into the backroom of the bar.
"You know what I mean, Barny," says Sargmacher, still holding Barn3tt's gaze.
Barn3tt, unfazed, stands still, staring into Sargmacher's eyes. He opens his mouth to speak. No words sound out but the table is kicked flying into the air. A gunshot is heard. Then a second. Footsteps are heard running out, the slam of a door. Silence.
Zultar peeps his head out from the backroom behind the bar. There is a lot of smoke and whilst he can't see clearly he can make out a pair of shoes lying on the floor. "Damn hillbillies, they is always leaving them's shoes", he mutters. Then, after grabbing his broom and walking forward to the table, he notices that the shoes are attached to legs and those legs are of a man lying in a pool of blood. Zultar reels back and has to steady himself against his own bar top as he realises that for the second time in his life someone has died in his bar. He bends down to see the face of the man below the table
and collapses to the floor when he discovers the truth.