Bruce chuckled as he watched Dom leave his office. On that day, he loved watching the once fearful look on Dom’s face break out into pure elation. He liked improving his employees’ lives.

Bruce had always been known to rule with an iron fist, but he was fair. He had joined the company years previous and was now the head of an entire department. He took pride in his work and appreciated those who put effort in their work. Dom was definitely one of those people, he always went above and beyond his daily duties.

Bruce leaned back in his sleek leather chair, a smile upon his face. He glanced at the clock on his wall, pleased to see he only had an hour left of work.

He scrambled through the last bits and pieces of work so he wouldn’t have to play catch up the following day. He liked clearing his desk every night and starting each day fresh. It helped him focus and remain productive.

As the clock struck six, he leapt out of his chair and stretched his muscular arms above his head, ready to leave, at last.

He waved to all his co-workers on his way out, most skittishly waving in response. The fear and intimidation others felt used to be annoying to him, but it turned out to be quite a helpful quality as a boss. He rarely had any problems in his department. Whether that was due to his tough appearance or the appreciation he had for his staff, he wasn’t sure.

He hopped into the elevator watching the numbers slowly decrease until PG was illuminated in red lights.

Bruce stepped out into the parking garage with an undoubtable pep in his step. Finding his car and jumping in, he took off to his favorite after work stop, McDaniel’s Pub.

A short but familiar ride led Bruce directly to his desired location. It was a quaint little pub, though it remained the only place Bruce really enjoyed going to. He used to go all the time with his late father. It still served as a reminder of the strong man who had raised him, but it had become more like a second home.

He glided up to the door, looking upon the chipped paint and rusted sign with a sense of admiration rather than the disgust he should have felt.

The old pub had a sports theme that overwhelmed visitors who weren’t expecting the wall-to-wall decor. Photos of famous athletes, newspaper clippings and various t-shirts lined the entire bar. The tables were a rough hewn wood, dented and chipped from years of rowdy patrons.

Bruce inhaled the stale beer scent, nostalgia warming his soul while he approached the bar.

“Hey!” he cheerfully said, plopping down into his favorite barstool. It stood on the end of the bar, tucked behind a false wall. It gave him an ample view of the room while remaining somewhat hidden himself.

The bartender didn’t take notice of him, yet. Her long blonde hair tied up in a messy bun matched the exasperated look in her eyes. She was talking to a few customers, clenching her fists under the bar as she spoke.

Bruce kept his distance, knowing she could handle herself, but ready if anything were to happen. After being a regular for as long as he had been, the staff became like family to him. A family he’d do anything for, including start a brawl.

The patrons before her huffed before turning on their heels and marching out of the establishment.

Bruce watched them intently, only releasing the tension in his back when the door swung shut behind them.

“Heya doll!” the bartender said as soon as she noticed Bruce in his normal spot. Her eyes look substantially happier upon reaching him.

“Hey! Problems?” he gestured to the door.

“Oh, nahh! They were just bitching about the cost of beers in sucha shithole,” her voice rose and octave while she pitifully mocked the previous customers.

Bruce laughed at her attempt, “Well, all the more for me, I guess!”

“Pfft,” she scoffed. “When was the last time you had more than two?”

“Listen here. You know I gotta work, I can’t be hungover every day. I’m a boss now!” he attempted to reason, though a few more beers that night sounded nice.

“Yeah yeah. Big man on campus now, you’ve forgotten how to party with us lowly folk,” the bartender jokingly jeered in Bruce’s direction.

“This weekend. We’ll see if I forgot to party,” he replied with a chuckle.

In an instant, the bartender's tone changed, the lightheartedness replaced with anger, “Yeah… if there is still a bar come this weekend.”

“What?” Bruce asked, his own laughter dying down while being replaced with confusion.

“Doll, you’ve seen what’s happening in the news,” she stated accusingly.

“The invasion?” Bruce whispered, almost as if the words would be less real if they weren’t said aloud.

“Yeah… the invasion…”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine,” he tried to console her though his words felt hollow as they left his lips.

“Don’t know who you’re trying to convince, ‘cause you did a piss poor job if it was me,” she remarked in her usual blunt tone.

Bruce sighed in defeat. “Well, honestly, I haven’t even checked the news. I’m not too fond of imagining my world dismantled by war.”

“It’s not imagining, it’s accepting, doll. They are moving forces to the border. They’re armed and they will attack.” She held eye contact with Bruce through every syllable, hammering the reality deeper into his soul with every word.

“Well, what the fuck do we do now?” Bruce asked, showing fear for the first time since his father had died. If it had been anyone else, he would have shielded the dread better, but he was safe there. Safe to feel scared if he needed to.

“We drink, laugh and be merry. Not much else we can do. Unless you’ve managed to buy an island outside all this bullshit with that new job of yours,” she smirked.

“No. No islands,” Bruce muttered, still caught in his all-encompassing distress. He was suddenly terrified. He wanted his father to sit him down and tell him everything would be alright. He wanted someone, anyone to tell him it was all just a bad dream.

A glass slamming down in front of him snapped him out of his trance.

“Drink up, doll. I’ll even give you the End of Days discount if you promise to drink more than two,” she winked at him.

Bruce blinked at her, amazed by her tenacity and sheer strength in this harrowing moment. He studied her, then the beer before him.

“Well, if this is the end, I’m glad I’m with you,” he whispered to her.

She blew him a gracious kiss in response.

“You, Sally Myers are a force to be reckoned with,” Bruce conceded. “Line us up some shots!”

The pair laughed, though it was plain to see, their smiles were hiding much darker emotions.