From a young age, even when his name didn’t make much sense, Beard was a strong lad. That didn’t mean that he was a bad apple. Everyone knew that even though Beard was kind, you should only tease him at your own peril because the beardless ginger kid could overwhelm the strongest man in a fight when provoked.
As he grew, Beard finally started growing his… beard and found a healthy appreciation for the fun side of life. He liked to spend his time alone, riding his motorcycle and enjoying the life of freedom, occasionally deciding to stay in one place when the fancy struck him.
That is how our glorious ginger found himself at the Olof’s Pub. As soon as he saw the place, Beard fell in love with it. He stayed for a week, drinking and making friends with the regulars, who were scared of him at first but eventually figured out that he was mostly harmless unless you pissed him off.
After a week, Beard was running out of money and needed to find a job. Fortunately, the owner of the pub, Olof, needed a new bartender. That is how Olof’s Pub at the side of a highway became Beard’s home.
For years, he was perfectly happy. He spent his nights working behind the bar in his favorite place in the world, taking care of his beloved motorcycle during the day and riding it in the surrounding desert, enjoying the wind in his beard.
One day, however, a huge explosion interrupted Beard in the middle of a joke about a nun, a biker, and a chimney sweeper who walked into a bar. The explosion was so great that the windows of the pub were shattered, the whole building shook and started falling apart.
Beard got out of there through the back and frantically ran around the crumbling building to check on his beloved motorcycle. It was smashed to smithereens, even with years of loving work, there was no way to fix it.
Now, Beard became pissed off. Everybody in the county knew that if Beard got pissed you ran as far away as you could as quickly as possible. They also knew that there was no point in running if you did anything to his motorcycle, no matter how unintentionally. Beard had a particular set of skills when it came to offenders against his motorcycle and pub. He used these skills to hunt the offenders. To find the offenders. To beat the offenders so badly, that even their mama wouldn’t have recognized them. The last tough guy to scratch Beard’s motorcycle was still in a coma, three years later.
Fortunately for Beard and unfortunately for those who blew up the ginger’s motorcycle, none of the offenders knew what they had done. In fact, they marched on the pub instead of running away in fear of the consequences of what happened.
The offenders, hundreds of them, marched on the pub. Even though Beard was perturbed at the blue little freaks, he his rage won out. He screamed and charged the bunch of them, punching, kicking them, grabbing their heads and smashing them together.
For a while, the only thing you could hear was furious grunts of exertion and screams of pain from the victims of Beard’s rage. Soon, the attackers were no more, their bodies lay all around Beard.
Having finally calmed down, Beard looked around. Olof’s Pub, his home, was destroyed. His love and pride, the motorcycle, was destroyed. All at the hands of these small blue… creatures. Beard had a suspicion that there were more of them. He looked at one of them and grunted out:
“I. Will. Hunt. You. All. Down.”