A breath of fresh air escaped Colt's mouth as he stepped into the lively streets of the Southern city.

After spending the rest of yesterday watching tv with Yuri, it was time to go out and explore the area. Dakota was still going over their mock exams, so there were no other needs to be tended to either.

There were cafes, restaurants, game stores, clothing stores, large shopping malls, arcades, and even massage parlors.

A basketball hoop was drilled into a random lot, which truly sent him down a lane of nostalgia from his days as a little kid. Hours were spent tossing basketballs at those rimless hoops with friends. He never wanted to be a professional player, but it was just fun.

A small building stood off in the corner of the street. Its structure lacked any of that luster and shine that beamed off of the other facilities. Almost as if it were dragged from some rusty village, it had cracked brick walls, broken LED lights, and shattered windows. The broken sign boarded above the entrance read Barney's Bar.

I guess I could check it out.

Pushing the door open, he practiced much concern with his approach, not wanting to break it more than it already was.

The suffocating scent of cigarettes rushed into his nose as clouds of smoke escaped the bar room. The dim lights hanging from the walls barely brought light to the dark cavern. A low bell jingle rang off as the door closed, drawing all eyes in on him.

"Ha!" howled the burly bartender, "Who's lost baby is this?"

All of the other men in the bar erupted into laughter at his remark.

"Corny..." Colt scratched the back of his head and made his way towards the bar. The wooden floorboards crooked with each step he took, nearly threatening to collapse every second.

"What can I get ya', baby?" asked the bartender.

"Don't call me that..." he sat at the end of the bar, with it being the only open seat.

"Sorry, Dollface." he chuckled, "What would you like to drink?"

"What's the best drink here?"

"Adventurous I see. Our best drink here is our Barney Beer Mug. It costs-"

"Never mind. I don't really like beer."

A deafening silence fell over the entire bar, with all eyes falling back onto Colt.

"What?" asked the bartender.

"I never really tried it, and from what I've heard about it, I bet it tastes like garbage."

Slamming his fists down into the wood, the bartender's eyes reddened with rage. "How dare you? This is a beer bar!"

"I guess I'll dip then." As Colt turned to leave, the door burst open, sending wooden fragments everywhere. None managed to reach Colt himself, but a few other guys flinched and winced as they were caught in the crossfire.

A bald-headed man stepped inside and drew a pistol from his jacket pocket. His clothes were rather sluggish, with tears running up and down his vest and pants, even his beat-up gym shoes.

Ignoring his screams, most men went back to their own business.

They're pretty calm...He must be a regular.

"Oi! Where's that bastard Mac?" asked the man.

The bartender leapt from behind the bar, "Jackal, you went and broke my fucking door again, you crazy bastard!"

"My bad pops." Jackal shoved a large wad of cash his way, "That ought to pay for it, yeah?"

"Thanks...What did Mac do this time?"

"He's behind on his payments. The big boss is pissed."

"What a shame." The bartender shook his head and returned to his place behind the bar, "Some more gang shit. Come have a drink since you're here."

"I was gonna do that anyway. Mac comes here every day, so I'll catch him." Jackal walked over to the bar and pointed his gun at Colt, "Oi, get up."

Again with the fucking guns...

"I don't recognize you, so I can order you around." grinned Jackcal, "Move or get shot."

Colt groaned, "I was about to leave, but if you're going to be a dick about it, I'm not moving."

Jackal's eyebrows furrowed as he aimed directly for Colt's head, "Then d-"

Snatching Jackal by the wrist, Colt crushed his wrist and hurled him across the floor, stealing the gun for his own uses. Compared to all of the shit he fought back at Hokkaido's place, even a big dumb brute was nothing more than a pissant.

Glasses fell to the floor as everyone rose from their seats.

"Bar fight!" cheered a man.

"Dollface's got some moves!"

"Everyone settle down!" shouted the bartender.

"Were you actually going to kill me over something so stupid?" asked Colt.

Jackal sucked the snot back into his nose as he wiped his tears, "Y-You punk! G-Give me my gun!"

"What happened to all of that tough talk from earlier?" Colt aimed the gun at Jackal, "You gang bangers are all the same. Nothing but loud barking until you lose the guns."

Jackal pulled himself off of the creaky floorboards and groaned, "Feel that way then! I'll be back! My set's right down the street!"

Colt's face went blank, "So, you just exposed the location of your gang? What's stopping me from airing out the entire block with this gun?"

He chuckled, "Don't be ridiculous, one brat can't kill all of us!"

The bell jingle went off as someone else stepped into the bar.

A tall, chubby man with a worn green hoodie stood in the entrance with a grey beanie hat. His black pants were so faded that they could be mistaken for grey.

"Mac!" Jackal walked towards the large man and grabbed his shoulders, "You're late on your payments, run the goods, jack!"

He huffed, "I'm sorry. Tell Bael that there's been some issues with my father. I can't get him anything yet."

"We don't give a shit!" cried Jackal, "Your bitchass dad has nothing to do with meeting our deadlines!"

Mac glared at Jackal and clenched his fists, "Jackal-" His head snapped forward as a man cracked him in the back of the head with a lead pipe, dropping him to his knees.

Five more men flooded their way into the bar, bringing their boots down onto Mac as he struggled to defend himself.

"You're gonna die if you keep fucking around!" shouted one of the men.

"Die! Die!"

"How does it feel, you punk?"

The men continued to shower him in insults as Jackal walked over to join them.

Colt snatched Jackal by the collar of his jacket and threw him into the ground, "Move!" He proceeded to punch the other men away from Mac. Each one of them fell back with relative ease. Not much of a surprise, given the fact that they were linked with that bastard Jackal. "You guys are gonna jump him? Aren't you supposed to be-"

One of the men pulled out a gun and shot Colt in the chest.

Instead of falling over, Colt simply healed the wound. The bullet tore straight through him, so no gunpowder leaked into him at all. "And of course...you have guns." The rage began to swell up from within Colt as he glared at the men.

Growing up in a densely populated city, he's certainly seen his fair share of violence. Many people he knew met their untimely ends to guns, so he was always opposed to any sort of gang activity. It all just seemed so stupid. The original value in joining gangs to defend innocent people got lost in the idiotic spiral of drugs, ignorance, and senseless violence.

"What the hell?" The man scoffed before turning his back to Colt, "Let's go boys, we did what the boss asked us to do." He left the bar, along with Jackal and the others.

Colt rushed over to check on Mac, "H-Hey man, are you alright?"

He sat up and wiped the blood out of his eyes, "Y-Yes. I'm grateful for your help." He pulled himself from the floor and dusted himself off, "How can I pay-"

"I don't need anything."

Mac slouched over to catch his breath, "Then, why did you help me?"

"Do I need a reason to help you? It's common courtesy."

Mac glanced at Colt and smiled, "I see...you're a good man." He straightened his posture and reached out to shake his hand, "The name's Mac, what's yours?"

"Colt."

Mac hunched over to the bar, only to be stopped as Colt grabbed his shoulder.

"You probably shouldn't stay here," said Colt, "This bartender knew about Jackal trying to kill you, and he barely did anything." With that thought, not a single person in the bar did a thing to help during the crazed scenario. As soon as the situation died down, everyone went back to their drinks.

The bartender pounded his fist into the bar, "What am I supposed to do? Those thugs were going to kill me if I tried anything!"

"You could've at least tried-"

"Colt, it's fine." interjected Mac, "Those men have been chasing me for my entire life." He sat down at the bar and let out a sigh, "I come here on my own terms, even when they beat me. Don't blame Kenny."

Kenny scratched the back of his head, "Those bastards have always been crazy, but things have gotten worse in this last week..."

"Yes. I'm sure it's because of my father's death." said Mac. "Now that he's gone, the Junkyarders are free to do whatever they want."

Colt scoffed, "Junkyarders? Is that their gang's name?"

"Yes. They practically own Poor Man's Land, and a quadrant of a large forest nearby."

A forest?

With a wicked gang terrorizing someone for resources, involving itself with a forest, things were sounding like Hokkaido all over again. It was a given that gangs would be prevalent in a city, but it was truly a shame. Not even the magical Seishin Realm could escape that fate.

"Do you mean the Serpent's Forest?" asked Colt.

"Yes!" Mac dug into his jacket pocket and sat some change down in front of Kenny, "I'll have the usual."

Kenny grabbed an empty glass and poured some stale beer into it, "Here ya go."

"Thanks." After taking a sip, Mac turned to Colt, "I'm grateful for your help, but I advise against staying around here any longer."

"Why?" asked Colt.

"The Junkyarders are insane. Starting a fight with one of them will only incur the wrath of the others."

He shrugged his shoulders, "I'm good. Are you gonna be safe?"

Taking another sip, a defeated sigh escaped Mac's lips. "I-I'm not so sure. There's no way for me to deliver any produce to them without my father, so they're most likely going to kill me."

"You can't just give up like that! Why don't you try to move away?"

"I can't. I'm too poor. That's the main reason I come here every day. It's the only place where I can afford any drinks."

"Oh..."

Damn...

No one deserves to die over some stupid delivery...

Picking his mind, and idea sprang up.

"Mac, I can help you!" Colt rose from his seat, "I can just help you get the stuff you need to deliver!"

"Colt...just go." he sighed, "A young man like you has no business getting involved with this stuff."

"Mac, I can tell you that I've been in my share of dangerous scenarios. Getting some drugs is light work for me."

"Is that so?" He sat down his glass, "Although, it's not drugs we're looking for. If I can remember correctly, my father called it blue apple juice."

Colt's heart sank into the pit of his stomach as the words left Mac's mouth. Images of Hokkaido and the village flicked through his head in a fragmented montage of hell.

Was it Mac's round face?

No, that wasn't it.

Those dead eyes paired with those key words were responsible for his trip down memory lane, desperately vying to rebuild the time where they first met.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Colt practically dropped back into his seat. "Wh-Who's your father?"

"My father? Why is that necessary?"

"Because...I think I've heard of him before..."

Mac chuckled, "I'm sure you have." Driving the final nail into the coffin-or rather dislodging it to free a chamber of lost memories, Mac carried on. "His name's Hokkaido."