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The Bastard In The Zombie Apocalypse Chapter 63: Return 5

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4 years ago.

Derek, 26 years old.

Womania, Burrow city.

11:30 pm.

It was New Year's eve and light snow was falling from the sky, making the ambiance magical as well as boosting the festive spirit of the people.

However, not everyone shared the same feeling...

Derek was with two men at an empty alley.

The men that Derek was with were Muwinians.

One of them charged at him and punched.

Derek sidestepped and kicked the man on the side.

Pah!

The man fell to the ground and groaned in pain.

The other man approached Derek and sent out a punch aiming at his face.

Derek ducked, evading it.

He immediately stepped forward and delivered an uppercut on the man's chin.

Bam!

The man fell to the ground.

Derek got on top of the man and started pummeling him.

Bam!

Bam!

Bam!

Suddenly, someone kicked him at the back.

Pah!

He fell face-first to the pavement, chipping his front teeth and scratching chin.

With Derek down on the ground, the man started kicking his side.

Pah!

"You crazy white racist pig!"

This fight was instigated by Derek.

These two Muwinians were just walking down the streets minding their own business when Derek suddenly started throwing out racist slurs.

They tried to ignore him at first, but Derek didn't stop and just continued.

After finally losing patience, they confronted him.

Derek lured them into an alley so that no cops or snitches will interfere.

Pah!

"You like that!?"

Pah!

"Answer me, you racist b.i.t.c.h!"

Pah!

Pah!

"Officer, there!" a female voice said.

"What's going on here?!" shouted a female police officer, while the female who alerted the officer quickly went away.

Hearing the officer, the man kicking Derek stopped.

Meanwhile, Derek cursed his luck and thought, 'This alley wasn't deserted at all.'

"s.h.i.+t!" said the man kicking Derek and immediately went to his companion to pull him up.

"Wake up, man! Pull yourself together! Come on! Hurry!"

The man placed his companion's arm on his shoulders and dragged him away.

"Stop!" said the police officer but she didn't pull out her gun or chase them.

It was New Year's eve and there were too many drunks. Some even tried to kiss her.

In her mind, it would be better if these sc.u.ms just started killing each other.

She approached Derek.

She noticed that his head was bald and had a racist symbol tattooed at the back of his skull.

'A racist? I really shouldn't have interfered then. What luck,' she thought and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Are you okay, sir? I will need you to tell me what happened."

Derek coughed out a few blood and spat before sitting down on the floor.

"I'm fine, officer."

He wiped the blood of his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket before looking at her.

When the female officer saw his face, she was surprised to see that Derek was handsome.

Despite his shaved head and the racist tattoo, it still couldn't hide the fact that he was pleasing to the eyes.

He was 6'2" tall, average but fit physique, piercing blue eyes, and a chiseled jawline.

Combined with his shaved head and the racist tattoo, it gave him a bad boy charm instead that women couldn't resist and give them this strong desire to "save" him.

'Too bad he's a racist… But I guess…' she thought and put the pair of handcuffs away."Were you mugged, sir? I can help you file a report."

Derek got up and dust off the snow on him.

"It's nothing, officer. I'm fine. I just tripped. That's all."

Derek recognized that look on the police officer's eyes.

It was a look that he was quite familiar with since he was a kid.

The police officer was Caucasian just like him. However, her looks were way below average.

"Excuse me, officer. I'll be on my way."

He began walking away.

"Wait. I need to take you back to the station -"

Derek stopped and cupped her face before kissing her.

When their lips finally parted, he whispered, "I'll come back here tomorrow night and will be waiting for you."

"Okay…" The female officer absently nodded. Her mind was still trapped in her own fantasy.

Derek walked away.

11:50 pm.

Derek entered a pub.

There were a lot of people.

Some were with their partners, while others were with their friends.

Everyone in the room was in a festive mood except for Derek.

Ever since the death of his parents and sister, he was never the same.

He dropped out of college and lived a life the solely revolved around fighting, drinking, drugs and s.e.x.

This was all possible thanks to the wealth his parents left him.

Although he never has to worry about money and didn't have any gambling problem, it wouldn't matter because, with the kind of lifestyle he lived, he would most likely die first before using up all of his money.

He also had some relatives and friends that tried to help him, but he just kept shutting them out until they finally stopped pestering him.

He went over the front bar and ordered a drink.

The bartender was a 6'7" Caucasian man around 50 years old with knife scars on his face. He had a large beer belly and his arms were as thick as an adult's thigh.

"Whiskey neat," said Derek.

The bartender poured him his drink.

As he was about to grab his drink, someone shoved his head from behind.

He turned around to see who shoved him.

"You got a nice tattoo there, my friend."

It was a group of men of color and they were sneering at him.

Derek licked his chipped teeth and smiled.

He was about to pounce at them when suddenly a thundering voice behind him said, "If you little boys want to play, go outside and don't bother everyone here."

It was the 6'7" bartender.

Upon seeing the towering height and the ma.s.sive arms of the bartender along with his face riddled with knife scars, the group of colored men backed away and left.

Derek turned to the bartender.

He picked up his gla.s.s and drank it.

"Another one."

The bartender poured him another drink.

Derek did the same thing.

"Another one."

The bartender poured.

"Another one."

The bartender poured.

"Another one."

"Woah… Easy there, buddy."

Derek looked at the bartender with the expression that read: Pour me a f.u.c.king drink.

"There must be a really good reason why you're doing this on a New Year's eve. So…"

The bartender grabbed a bottle of whiskey and placed it in front of Derek.

"… this is for you."

Derek squinted his eyes.

"It's on the house. I have other customers to serve and I can't have you monopolizing one of my employees as well."

It was New Year's Eve and the pub was crowded.

Unfortunately, there were only 3 waitresses on duty tonight and all of them had their hands full.

When Derek grabbed the bottle, the bartender grabbed the bottle as well and leaned over.

"Just don't go making a mess or you'll owe me big time. You understand?"

Derek pulled the bottle away and didn't say anything as he poured himself a drink.

The bartender left him alone and served the other customers.

After a few shots, he felt a little tipsy so he left the whiskey bottle and gla.s.s before going to the comfort room for a quick sniff.

On his way to the comfort room, there were a few people standing on the sides.

Some were making out, some were talking, while the others were doing only G.o.d knows what.

Kacha!

Derek entered one of the bathroom stalls and sat on the bowl before taking out his drugs.

Sniff!

Sniff!

He raised his head and rubbed his nose.

Sniff!

Sniff!

He put his drugs away and got out of the comfort room.

When he got back to his spot, it was already taken by a group of women and there were no other seats available as well.

Tch.

Derek clicked his tongue.

He went over to grab his whiskey bottle.

When the women noticed Derek approaching, they immediately made eye contact with each other before throwing him subtle flirtatious gazes, trying to see who among them could get his attention.

One of them even "accidentally" tripped and b.u.mped into him, while another unb.u.t.toned one of the b.u.t.tons of her top to reveal more cleavage.

Unfortunately, Derek wasn't interested at the moment and just ignored them.

He grabbed his whiskey bottle and turned away to leave.

Seeing Derek ignore them and walking away, they finally noticed the racist symbol tattooed on the back of his head so they quickly lost interest and decided to put him down to heal their wounded ego.

"Ewww... A racist. No time to waste our time with someone like that."

"Yeah, you're right. So disgusting."

"Most white men are racist pigs anyway. It's not a surprise."

"Ugh! To think he came to us... I feel so dirty!"

Derek headed back to the bathroom stall earlier to continue drinking.

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The Bastard In The Zombie Apocalypse Chapter 63: Return 5 summary

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