Tales from the Aces' Bar |
While the inhabitants of
the bar were mopping the floor with the pirates, the whistle had
been heard. By ONE man.....
He muttered an expletive,
and headed for the bar.
When he got there, the sounds
of the fight were dying down.
Grinning, he walked in.
And found himself staring
into many, many gun barrels.
"Why, gentlemen....I’m dangerous....but
this is hardly a polite method of greeting newcomers."
Evilmike smirked, and lit
up a Pall Mall. He was an average, nondescript-looking man.
His black evening suit was a distinct contrast to the leather and canvas
of the other aces. A Black Swan pin glittered from his collar.
He stepped over the bodies,
and made his way to the bar, ignoring all the weapons pointing in his direction.
"Vodka and tonic, with a
rum chaser," he ordered.
Turning around, he grinned
again.
"Could I trouble you gents
to please quit pummeling my minions? Doctors charge outrageous fees,
you know."
He took a draw from the
cigarette, and blew the smoke back out into the bar. And he never
stopped smiling.
As the fight progressed,
the Swan pilot at the bar decided to go help his fellow pilots. He turned
took a couple steps, and fell flat on his face thanks to the leg Soaring-Eagle
calmly tripped him with. As the pilot tried to get up, Soaring-Eagle pulled
back the hammer on his Smith & Wesson .44 and pointed it at the back
of the pirates head.
"Now, I don’t believe I
heard anyone invite you to join that little foray, so I suggest you stay
put."
Hearing the possibility
of reinforcements coming in, Soaring-Eagle looked away for a second. The
pirate tried to take advantage of this, springing to his feet. Soaring-Eagle
smashed him upside the head with his .44 caliber cannon, sending the pirate
to the land of dreams.
There were one too many Black
Swans in the bar. Most of them were already out cold. But still, Swans
should not have been in Ace's Bar. All scavengers have territories,
and this pack of hyenas had no business here. Since the fiasco started,
this fact had been gnawing inside Ellington’s head, and now the grinning
idiot that walked in probably had all the answers.
Ellington maneuvered around
the unconscious lump which laid before him. Walking over to Teach he placed
his hand on the bearded militiaman’s shoulder.
Blood chuckled quietly to
himself as the fight got into motion.
Grinning ,he picked up an
empty bottle by the neck chucked it across the room. The bottle sailed
end-over-end like Blood was born with a natural talent for handling things
until it finally reached the other side of the room. It almost casually
cold cocked an unsuspecting pirate in the back of the head, dropping him
to the floor.
He grinned again and was
just about to wade into the fist fight himself when the door opened and
the finely dressed stranger walked in. Frowning, Blood relaxed slightly
and snapped his pistol holster shut.
"Geez, and I was just
hankerin’ to knock some bloody pirates about," he mumbled under his breath.
Shrugging he walked over to the bar and stood just inside the stranger’s
peripheral vision and just a tad too close, but relaxed like he was just
in a crowded bar and not trying to make the man uncomfortable.
Teach’s finger tightened
on his Mauser’s trigger as he glared over the sights. The newcomer’s image
was twinned in the Corsair’s black shades.
There was a hand on his
shoulder. Teach could see cross out of the corner of his eye.
"So many ugly ducks in one
place can only mean trouble," Cross leaned closer to the Dixie militiaman.
"Let’s leave him alive for now."
Teach hesitated, torn between
logic and instinct, then nodded and lowered his gun. He winced as he pulled
an embedded tooth from his left fist. Taking careful aim, he flicked it
into the mouth of the pirate at his feet.
Draco could see that the
rest of the goons were being mopped up so he was about to put his pistol
away when the newcomer walked in. He quickly relieved it, but as the newcomer
started to talk with easy he lowered his gun an reholstered it. It seemed
to be a high up Swan man.
This caused the Air Marshal
some conflicting instincts. On one hand he was just itching to blow off
this pirates head and finish off all his goons. But on they other he was
an Empire States man and the Swans were now a privateer for his beloved
country. Draco decided it would be better for him to just stay out of it,
fighting a bunch of low down Swans was one thing taking on one of there
higher ups was another.
Draco walked back to where
his chair was, flipped back up right and sat down. He would leave the slick
Swan to the other pilots.
The Corsair said to Cross,
"This square can’t be all that dangerous." Teach eyed the newcomer critically.
"Had to bring in a new-model goon squad as backup." Plumes of smoke issued
from his evil smirk as Teach surveyed the wounded Swans.
Ellington stared at the
small man at the bar. To Cross he looked like a weasel in a suit, the most
dangerous kind of all.
"I agree with yah Teach.
But what the worm lacks in cojones he makes up in connections. Green or
not these are still 10 Swan boys..."
Ellington glanced back at
the two angels by the jukebox.
"..and girls. That makes
ten pilots, ten planes. That can mean one of two things: A, they are protecting
something important to the Swan, or B, they are looking for something important
for the Swan."
Ellington glanced to the
weasel’s side. Blood loomed over the small man.
"And I bet he won’t be too
forthcoming with answers... Blood, why don’t you help the man to a chair."
The expression on Cross’
face meant only one thing: violence. The poor Swan was gonna get
his feathers ruffled.
Teach looked at Cross. He
dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his heel on the chest of a
wounded Swan.
"I like your style, Cross,"
drawled the Corsair.
Teach walked over to the
bar. At his approach, Ace dropped his hand to knee height and there was
a soft click. Sally exhaled a breathy sigh of relief. The last time he’d
had to use his "wooden" leg she was repainting the walls for days.
The Dixie militiaman glanced
back over at the newcomer then returned his dead gaze on Ace. "Something
fancy for the new," he said.
Captain Shepard watched the pilot called Teach walk towards the bar and order something fancy for the head swan. Turning towards Cross, Gyr remarked, "Well, whichever of A or B it is, I’d say either is trouble. Though at the moment, trouble for them."
Seeing that the fight was pretty much over, Soaring-Eagle slowly released the hammer on his .44 and reholstered the gun. He then sat back down at the bar and went back to his cider.
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