Pain is only temporary...

He walked in a bar...The smell of alcohol, smoke, and sweat prevailed in the air...But there was another element reaching his senses. Fear. He knew the smell very well. He could smell it whenever he was among people that had never seen him before. He could never understand why, but it always happened. So, he learned to live with it, and in more than one occasion, profit from it. It shouldn't be long, he thought. The rest would come sooner or later, and the night will go ahead as planned. He knew he wanted to do it alone, but then it wouldn't be fair. And the cost would be dear. The others had to enjoy themselves as well.

He looked around, and all he could see were empty faces, gazes rushing away from his. Why? It baffled him. Always the same gaze; empty and sometimes filled with hate and fear. But never with admiration, or fondness, or plain boldness. Why? The answer escaped him. Standing up in one sudden movement, he decided to start on his own. He would give them a chance to win. He walked up to the waiter. Puffed up guy, looked mean and angry, but he could still smell the fear. Electrified atmosphere surrounded him. "Do you remember two months ago a fight you picked up?"
"..."
"I'll take that as a yes. I'll also take as granted that you remember me, too."
"Look, you were drunk, so we got you and your friends out. End of story."
"You are wrong. You should learn to pick your fights better. And finish them when you have the chance. You see, I am like a dog. If you show me that you are in control either way, I'll respect that, and back away. If not, if I smell fear...Then"
"If you are looking for trouble then you are stupid. You are on your own, and we are four. There is no way that you can take all four of us."
"See, again, you are rushing into conclusions, making the wrong assessments. And this will cost you."
The plan was perfect. He would start the fight, maybe get his ass kicked a bit, but then they will not be ready for what will happen. It will hit them as a plague. So he threw the first punch. And it stopped there for him. Time moved slowly. He could see the hands coming towards him, aiming at his head, his torso, he even felt a couple near his kidneys. Oh, he loved every second of it. He could ditch every single one, and probably retaliate, but he chose to remember. Remember how they cannot hurt him. Sure he would be bruised and shore in the morning, but with no serious damage done. He missed the old days. Back then you got into a fight, and you either got hurt, or you hurt somebody. Now, it's all fun and games. He remembered Carlito "Here comes the pain".
They were taking too long to come. He should act, and keep the fighting going. Hell hasn't broke loose yet. This is still the introduction. So, he looked at the waiter; after all, he was the one he wanted, and swung at him. Hard. Accurately. With purpose to damage. It landed in the jaw. The waiter was stunned. He rolled his eyes and stepped back. He could not believe what he was seeing. For fuck sake, it's just a punch. One punch. Keep your shit together, there are plenty more coming. Alas, the punch worked in the opposite manner from what was expected. Everybody froze. They could not believe it.

And then Hell Broke Loose.

He couldn't remember whom he had told. But he could remember that if he told to three specific individuals, more than twenty would be coming through that door. Now, hell brakes loose. Young men, aging from 18 to 27 swarmed the place, blood in their eyes, looking for revenge, looking for an excuse to torch the place to the ground. It was a war, no prisoners were to be taken. Only victims. The four were regretting every single step they had taken against him two months ago. Revenge was his. The instrument and the plot fantastic. The outcome, desired. But still...He had to restrain. He had to hold back. Do not partake. & years in prison awaited for him, if he even touched somebody. And he had already touched one. No matter. Watching the realization in the eyes of the victims that all these were planned, and his doing; knowing that it cannot be proved, made the taste of revenge even sweeter. He walked out, never to return in this place...The pain will go away...The memory will not.