Tales from the Aces' Bar |
As Cross began to answer
Blood's question he felt a strong sense of foreboding overtaking him. Ellington’s
gut had never failed him in the past. So when he heard the door of the
bar being kicked open he wasn’t that surprised.
With a slam the door swung
open, as ten figures stood outside, sheltered by the shadows of the moonless
sky. One by one they entered the place. Garbed in dark flight suits. Young
and brash. They walked as if the world was theirs. They all carried the
Black Swan’s mark on their sleeves.
Ellington stared into Teach’s
black glasses, observing the scene through the reflection. Letting out
a sigh of disappointment Cross looked over to blood.
"And everything was going
so well."
The pirates looked for all
the world like they owned the place. Or would like very much to have
made it theirs.
Captain Shepard took one
last sip from his sour, and then placed it on the bar. It looked like the
evening’s entertainment had arrived.
Sitting with his back to
the bar, Teach had a perfect view. A Black Swan new-model mook squad
had come to play.
Teach looked at each of
the gambling aces in turn.
"Gentlemen," he drawled.
"Looks like the evenin’s live...entertainment has arrived." The Corsair
stood and reached inside his flight jacket and drew a nickel-plated Mauser
Broomhandle. Cocking it, he said, "I think we’d bettah give these here
performers our undivided attention." Smoke swirled from between his teeth.
The jukebox played a waltz...
The Vice-Air Marshal sat
quietly in the corner of the poker table.
Draco studied his
cards for a few seconds before turning his attention to the two pilots
at the bar. He barely noticed the captain who was slowly nursing his drink
before he focused on the Lakota man. He had obvious native features that
graced his face and a colorful decorated flight jacket that announced his
membership in the elite Wind Warriors. Draco did not know whether it was
the jacket or the face that brought up the once forgotten memory of his
younger days piloting a Fury as he slipped behind a rainbow-colored Lakota
Coyote.
Draco slowly shook his head
to try and dispel the painful memory. He tried focusing on his losing hand;
a pair of nines. He glanced up and watched the duel of words that
was going on between Teach and Ellington Cross. Draco prepared himself
to intervene just in case the duel of words became a duel of fisticuffs.
He glanced over at Blood who sat rigidly, still wearing his dark flight
jacket and that blood red scarf. After a few minutes studying Blood, Draco
decided he would be a fearsome man to face in the air or the ground, even
if he worked for those pansy Hollywood folks.
The pirates looked for all
the world like they owned the place. Or would have liked very much
to make it theirs.
Captain Shepard took one
last sip from his sour, and then placed it on the bar. It looked like the
evening’s entertainment had arrived.
Draco snapped out his chair, flipping it over. He pulled out his Colt .45 from seemingly no were. He moved to back up the strongheaded Teach and his impromptu actions. He quickly glanced around to see what the other pilots were up to.
Soaring-Eagle, slowly shifted his mug to his left hand, and rested his right on the butt of his Smith & Wesson .44. Then he waited, knowing that this had the potential to get real ugly really fast.
Captain Shepard took off
his aviator’s scarf and carefully folded it. He then tucked it into an
inner pocket of his jacket. No sense leaving it out and possibly getting
the blood of these brigands on it, he reasoned.
Two of the pilots at the
card table had already drawn their guns, and out of the corner of his eye,
Captain Shepard noted that the Indian was more than ready to draw his piece.
The Captain reached into
his jacket and undid the clasp on his holster. He then began scanning the
room for someplace to use as cover.
Blood looks around a bit
and up from his cards when the pirates walked in. He frowned when he recognized
their patches and quietly lay his cards in a small pile on the table, face
down. Easing back in his chair, he unsnapped the holster at his hip
and slid his scarf off of his neck, folding it just like the other pilot
at the bar.
Appearing perfectly at ease,
his body was tensed like a spring, ready to break into action. He scanned
the room with his eyes taking note of the cover that was good enough to
stop bullets. Noticing the bar, he saw Ace frown and lower the glass
he was polishing. The bartender glanced from the pilots to the pirates
and his hands slowly went under the counter, for a shotgun perhaps?
The pirates fanned out across
the room as they entered, casually as it may seem. Several took to some
tables across from the poker table while two, both female headed for the
jukebox. What seemed like their leader headed for the bar and leaned against
it right next to the Lakota. He looked over at Sally and gave her a leer.
"Hey little Miss, mind getting
me a bottle of J.D., and maybe some company while you’re at it."
He smiled at her again,
taking in more than just her face as she scurried to find an unopened bottle.
Glancing over at the Indian, the black-haired swarthy pirate frowned and
said, "How! Watch you lookin’ at Painted Man?" A look of almost disgust
played across his face.
Looking at the moron who
just walked up to him, Soaring-Eagle's eyes hardened, his blue eyes looking
as if they could turn the pirate into a block of ice.
"Watch it Anglo," Soaring-Eagle
said, "This Indian can speak English better than you."
Chairs rustled over at the poker table....
Cross took an instant to
take in the situation; ten Black Swan pirates, one in the bar, two at the
jukebox and six at the tables to his right. Lakota could clean the
mook at the bar before he can say another word. Blood had at least two
of the six covered and the Vice-Airmarshal could clock two. He was
sure Teach was capable of handling the rest. That left the jukebox
for Cross.
Ellington looked at teach
as he slowly stood up.
"Almost seems unfair, don’t
it?"
Teach never took his eyes
off the interlopers. A thin stream from his cigarette wafted around his
face and flowed from about his mustache and goatee. His black-glass shielded
eyes betrayed no
emotion, but his voice had acquired an excited edge. He glanced at
Cross.
"Sure ain’t," he said. The
corner of his mouth quirked once, releasing another billow of smoke. "These
squares just don’t stand a chance, now do they?"
Slowly, Cross took his flight
jacket off, revealing two holstered .38’s, one under each arm. The chrome
finish gleamed in the dim light. Taking his cards and placing them
in his jacket pocket, he took a puff of his cigar followed by a shot of
Jack. He slowly paced over to the jukebox. The two female pirates
stared at him as he drew near.
With a smile, Ellington
met their stare.
"En el cielo deben
estar de luto, porque dejaron ir a dos angeles tan hermosas como ustedes"
Both pirates looked at each
other. They did not understand a single word he was saying.
"I’m sorry but we don’t
speak Spanish"
Ellington moved in between
them both and smiled a fox’s smile. "Well angels, I guess that might
be a problem."
Teach glanced around the
room. Draco was flying left wing for the Corsair. Cross sauntered over
toward the jukebox and two hapless female pirates. The sap at the bar seemed
about to get a
face full of Lakota. That left the pirates taking over a card table.
The minions of the Black
Swan mocked the Aces who stood and began to move around the room. "Hey,
flyboys," they jeered. "Back for some punishment on the ground? HAHA.
They’re
prob’ly as bad at cards as they are in the air." A round of guffaws
echoed from the metal walls of the quonset.
Teach strode around his
table, Mauser hidden behind his back and Draco on the left. The Corsair
advanced on one of the pirates. The two eyed each other, the Swan
seeing his face mirrored in Teach’s shades. Without warning, Teach brought
his Mauser up into the Swan’s face.
The pirate took a full,
cross-eyed second to register what was pointed at his nose. His first thought
was of a subway tunnel with a trigger. Teach’s smoke-wreathed face grinned
demonically
over the sights.
The Swan smirked and ducked
to his right just in time to meet Teach’s uppercut. Black Swans scattered
as their comrade was lifted off his feet by the force of the blow to crash
heavily on the
table, breaking it. Teach stepped forward into the wreckage and
placed a foot on the pirate’s neck. The click of his unchambered Mauser
echoed below the Glen Miller waltz coming from the Wurlitzer.
Teach chuckled and shook
his head, his laughter growing louder as he chambered a round. "Back to
the nest, chilluns," he exhorted. "Back to your accursed mama or suffer
the wrath of Hell itself!"
The Swan girls reacted to
the sudden flash of steel in the hands of Teach. Ellington’s right hand
flew from his side, and landed on the back of the girl’s head. She didn’t
see it coming and wouldn’t realize it had happened until tomorrow, after
she wakes up. In the blink of an eye a pirate was on the floor and one
of the girls went for her gun.
Cross thought of himself
as an honorable man. Hitting a lady was considered dishonorable.
Exceptions always exist, and hell, this was no lady, this was a pilot.
"I hope it doesn’t leave
a mark sweetheart."
In an instant his other
hand went for one of his baby .38’s. It jumped from its holster and
ended up two centimeters from the cheek of the second pirate. "Don’t
make me do it angel. I’d hate to ruin that beautiful mug of yours"
The Swan pilot smiled sweetly
at Ellington. She pursed her full, red lips and wriggled suggestively for
a moment. "Mighty good with your hands, there, big boy." She eyed Cross
seductively.
"Hope you’re not so quick
on the draw in other respects," she purred.
Draco whirled around striking
one of the pirates upside of the head with his nickel plated Colt .45 before
slamming another pirate with a left hook. Unfortunately for Draco this
particular pirate was about 6 foot 5 and about 300 pounds. the pirates
meaty hands grabbed hold of Draco’s jacket lifting him off the ground.
"Don’t touch the fabric,
Fat Ass," Draco said before he slammed his knee in the pirate's gut. The
Swan man doubled over and was about to get back up when Draco cold cocked
him in the back of his neck and put the once-mighty pirate out of action.
A smile ran across Ellington’s
face as he stared into the girl’s sweet eyes. His thumb slowly moved over
the hammer and pulled it back, while pressing the barrel on the girl’s
face.
"I’ve been bitten enough
times, to know a viper when I see one. Now tell your buddies to be
cool or sweet Sally over there will have to scrape your beautiful brains
from the wall"
The Swan pirate lass pouted
for a moment, then brightened and hissed quietly for Cross’ benefit.
"’S OK, skycaptain," she breathed.
She twitched at the crash
and thud of bodies hitting the floor, expletives and the horrid laughter
of the Corsair pilot. Glancing sideways at Cross, she let loose a
loud whistle...
As the sound of the pirate’s
whistle trailed off into the night, the gun that was just an instant before
pressed into her cheek was now hurtling towards her head. Her body unconscious
figure gracefully slumped to the floor.
Ellington felt like s#it,
this wasn’t the sort of thing that a Cross man was bred to do. A whistle
can only mean one thing, backup. And as his previous experience with the
black swan’s minions had taught him, where there was one...
"Let’s mop up these goons
quickly guys. I smell more Swan boys coming in."
Ellington ran across the
room, meeting another one of the Swans. Standing face to face, the
pirate threw the first punch, a quick jab meant for Cross’ chin. Ellington
sidestepped to his left and followed with a right cross to the bogey’s
face. Rolling with the punch, Ellington snapped back with an elbow
to the midsection. Another black swan wouldn’t fly home tonight.
Captain Shepard made his
move as soon as he heard the whistle. Fortunately, most of the pirates
had been distracted by the scene at the jukebox and then the sight of their
large friend being dealt some serious blows. The Captain moved quickly
towards the nearest pirate.
The pirate, however picked
up on his advance and quickly spun and threw a right hook at his new assailant.
Gyr grabbed the pirate’s wrist and used the pirate’s momentum to throw
the man to the floor. Gyr’s adversary was not to be handled so easily,
however, and rolled to his feet.
Gyr and the pirate circled
each other for a moment, test each others reflexes. When the pirate made
a jab feint, Gyr moved in to make some jabs of his own, only to meet the
pirate’s fist halfway. As Gyr stepped back, the pirate seized the advantage
and swung his foot around. Gyr had been anticipating this move, and grabbed
the pirates leg. Pulling the pirate off balance, the pirate hit the ground
a second time. As the pirate staggered back to his feet, Gyr delivered
a solid roundhouse and the pirate slipped into unconsciousness.
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