ExFic 6: Barroom Blitz, Part One

As the group marched ever onward, the trees around them spread out a little and gave way to what they at first presumed to be a clearing. However, the telltale signs of black asphalt bisected by intermittent stripes of paint and reflective markers soon revealed the existence of a highway. Just a chicken’s sprint across the road was an old, squat building, not abandoned by any means but dilapidated nonetheless. Glowing signs in the tinted windows announced the availability of such necessities as liquor, pool tables, and other modern conveniences one can either put money into or take it out of. Another sign, much larger and placed atop the roof the old building, read “Draft’s Bar.”

“Huh, I didn’t know there was a bar out here,” Katrina commented as they stopped just short of the road. She put a foot in front of Wearwolf to keep him from walking too far ahead of her. “Or a highway, for that matter.”

“I guess this is as good a place as any to stop and ask for directions,” Jaime said.

“Why ask for directions when there’s a road right here?” Rion asked. “There’s bound to be a town at either end.”

“Only one end is at Neo Olympus Mons,” Katrina answered. “And I’m not taking chances. Let’s go.”

“And we can use their phones to call home,” Jaime added as Katrina stepped forward. “But we’ll have to be careful crossing this highway. The carroaches here could be traveling at speeds upwards of a mile a…”

Almost as soon as Katrina stepped over the painted line on the side of the road, she had to leap back to avoid being run over by giant, stampeding insects with hollowed carapaces to allow passengers. The carroaches sped by in a blur, almost too fast to count as they roared past the travelers.

“… Second,” Jaime finished as an elevant lumbered past them at the tail end of line the speeding insects. “You know, maybe we should just follow the road after all.”

“Nonsense,” Katrina dismissed as she stretched her calves. “You just gotta time it right. Observe.”

She knelt down in preparation to dash across the street and glanced down both stretches of road. Katrina steadied herself, looked both ways again, and leapt forward just enough to avoid being hit by speeding carroaches. She toppled over backwards and watched the living conveyances rush by, followed by another straggling elevant.

“Those things are going by way too fast to just run by,” Rion pointed out. “By the time you see them coming down the road, they’ve already passed you by.”

“Nah, I just need a little boost, is all,” Katrina argued. “Ready, Wearwolf?”

“I am forced to agree with Rion and Jaime,” Wearwolf replied. “It would be best if we just followed the road to an establishment that is easier to access.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Katrina cheered.

“You are not even listening to me, are you?” Wearwolf noted.

“All right, let’s go!” Katrina declared, striking a dynamic pose. “Chimeric fusion, go!”

“Fine, but remember that we warned you,” Wearwolf said begrudgedly. His canine body took on an intense glow as it separated and reformed around Katrina’s body as fur-tufted gloves, boots, shorts, cloak, and hood on top of the jeans and sweatshirt she was already wearing. “Chimeric fusion, complete.”

“That is so cool!” Jaime exclaimed. “But I still don’t think…”

“No time to think!” Katrina proclaimed as she grabbed Rion and Jaime’s wrists and hauled tail across the street. They managed to barely evade oncoming traffic but only made it as far as the median line before another deluge of biomechanical marvels blocked their progress.

“Great, now there’s certain death in front of us and behind us,” Rion remarked.

“Yeah, ain’t it cool?” Katrina replied, releasing their wrists only to wrap her arms around their waists. “You might want to hang on for this part.”

Katrina lunged forward when she saw a break in the traffic, planted a foot on the tusk of an unsuspecting elevant, used it to launch herself upward and onto the back of the sport-utility pachyderm, and dove off into the dirt at the side of the road. They tumbled across what passed for the bar’s parking lot and came to a rest flat on their bellies.

“Yes!” Katrina exclaimed, flinging herself up on her knees and throwing her arms into the air as if she just made a game-breaking field goal, resulting in a shower of redwood bark debris. Wearwolf’s unfocused eyes, meanwhile, didn’t quite match Katrina’s enthusiasm. “That was so awesome! How cool was that!? That was totally intense! … You guys can stop screaming now, by the way.”

“That was insane!” Rion exclaimed once he caught his breath.

“Yep, even just crossing the road can be an adventure when you’re crazy,” Katrina decided she was agreeing.

“But I don’t wanna have an adventure just crossing the road,” Rion moaned pitifully.

“Fine, we’ll use the crosswalk next time, you big baby,” Katrina chided. She got to her feet, hoisted Jaime upright, and placed her glasses back on her. “You okay?”

Jaime stared at her blankly and said, “Mommy?”

“You’ll be fine,” Katrina deadpanned as she dusted Jaime off a little. She allowed Wearwolf to pop off her and reform to his normal state, at which point he toppled over like a bovine. “Geez, you guys act like you’ve never dodged traffic before.”

“Neither have you!” Rion accused.

“Yeah,” Katrina agreed. “Maybe the shock will hit me once the adrenaline wears…”

Katrina was interrupted as the ground rose up to meet her face.

“Ow,” she replied.

Once everyone had their wits about them again, they decided to enter the bar. The interior was not without its rustic charm. That is to say, there was a lot of random junk on the walls and not much light to see them in. As they came in, the bartender finished sweeping off the bar with a rag and proceeded to wash some glasses with it. Aside from themselves, the bartender, and a bored-looking waitress in the corner, the place was decidedly vacant.

“So, what is this ‘beer’ that this place seems so fond of?” Wearwolf inquired.

“A foul-tasting liquid that slowly destroys your brain and liver,” Katrina explained. “But it impairs judgement and inhibition, so by that time you don’t care what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with.”

“So why do people drink it?” Wearwolf asked.

“It’s cheaper than wine,” Katrina answered. Addressing the bartender across the room, she said, “We just need to use your phone.”

“The payphone’s right over there,” the bartender said in a gravely voice, pointing his chin to a nearby wall. “But make it quick. The Plague Riders should be by soon.”

“Plague Riders?” Katrina inquired as they approached the phones. There were a couple of them on the same wall as the windows facing out to the highway. As one would expect, there were more numbers written on the wall around them than in the disused phonebooks hanging limply from the chains the secured them to their units, not to mention crude drawings and limericks. There were even a couple etched into the touch-screens as random lines danced behind them.

“Cool, videophones,” Jaime remarked. She put a quarter in the slot and the screensaver was replaced with a numerical pad.

“They’re a vicious Hell Mantis gang, and they’ve been chasing away my proper customers for years,” the bartender explained. “Trust me, you do not want to meet up with them, or get on their bad side.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Katrina said as she approached the second phone. Jaime, meanwhile, managed to get an answer at her house. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a videophone on the other end, resulting in the words “Audio Only” scrolling across the screen.

“Ahoy, Chardonnay residence,” a familiar voice said over the handset.

“Ahoy, mother,” Jaime replied, lapsing into her familial pirate accent. “It be Jaime.”

“Sounds terrible,” Rion said to the bartender.

“You get used to it,” the bartender replied. “Like an inmate gets used to a concentration camp.”

“Jaime!” Mrs. Chardonnay exclaimed. “It’s about time ye called, lass! We be worried sick about ye!”

“Aye, mum,” said Jaime. “And we were worried when that there ‘quake hit. We thought ye be in Davie Jones’s locker for sure, we did. But Katrina didn’t wanna turn back, so we kept on going.”

“Why don’t you guys just pack up and move if it’s so bad?” Rion asked.

“This bar’s been in our family for generations,” the bartender explained. “We’ve had a liquor license for as long as there has been liquor to sell on this crazy planet. There’s too much at stake to pull up stakes now.”

“Ach, we been in choppier waters, ye can be sure o’ that,” Mrs. Chardonnay. “Nothin’ old salts like yer pa and I can’t handle. Thar townsfolk were pretty spooked, though. Fortunately, a Chimera Knight goin’ by the name ah Berg of Annelidia came by. Said he took care o’ the problem. We toll ‘im how you ‘n’ Rion ran off, and he said he look inta it.”

“Katrina’s gonna be ticked that she missed seeing a Chimera Knight in town,” Jaime replied. “But we ain’t seen no Chimera Knights out here, and I ain’t hearda no Annelidia.”

“Well, I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” Rion said. “By the way, you wouldn’t know which way to Neo Olympus Mons, would you?”

“Just take the north-eastern route,” the bartender answered. “Should be on your right as you’re heading out the door.”

Katrina hung up her phone and said, “I can’t reach anyone at home. I think they…”

Jaime put up a finger and shushed her. “Is that music I hear? Oh my god, are you having a party over there!?”

“Wow, she’s throwing a party!?” Katrina exclaimed. “Aw, man! She throws the best parties when you’re out. I remember this one time…”

“It’s not what ye think, lass!” Mrs. Chardonnay replied defensively. “It just be a goin’-away party!”

“We nary be gone long enough ta be presumed dead, and yer movin’ out already!?” Jaimed reprimanded. “I ought to keel-haul ye!”

A sound akin to a dozen or so helicopters in the distance caused the blood to drain from the faces of the bartender and the waitress. They darted about their establishment, making sure everything was in order.

“That must be the Plague Riders,” Katrina noted.

“Cripes,” Rion swore. He turned around and grabbed his sister by the shoulder. “Hey, Jaime, we gotta…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell her,” Jaime said, waving him off dismissively. “How dare ye even think ‘bout settin’ sail an’ nay tell us first!”

“Look, lass, ye knew we be settin’ out for our old pirate lives sooner or later,” Mrs. Chardonnay chastised. “Accordin’ to yer note, it’s the whole reason ye left in the first place!”

“Aye, but did ye hafta leave so soon!?”

“Jaime…’ Rion urged.

“Too late,” Katrina said, watching from the window. “They’re already here.”

Flowing off the highway like a great swarm, twenty or so large, red insects, most of which with one rider while a few had two. They hovered over the parking spaces directly in front of the bar before landing and allowing their riders to dismount. Each one of them were dressed in some combination of leather and denim, and they weren’t shy about the various ways they’ve decorated their flesh directly. The women among them seemed to take great pride in the way they displayed far more than the men, many of whom were shirtless with open vests. Their assorted MultiPets made them look almost friendly by comparison.

Katrina’s eye caught on one man who seemed a little out of place among the rowdy gang of Hell Mantis riders, despite the leather chaps he wore. He was far leaner and younger than his hulked-out companions, and had a disheveled and numb look on his face. He seemed very unaware of his surroundings, especially the vicious-looking punk chick dragging him by a leash. It was attached to a metallic, blinking collar around his neck, similar to those around the necks of the Hell Mantises they rode in on.

“Compliance collars,” Katrina growled. “These punks give scum a bad name.”

“We can still leave without trouble,” Rion said. “We just need to get Jaime off the phone.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, mom!” Jaime scolded.

“If we take a seat now, there’s a chance we won’t be thrown out of them for about five seconds,” Rion offered.

Katrina sighed hard as the two of them sat down at the table nearest Jaime and Wearwolf climbed onto a third chair. The Plague Riders were already spilling into the bar, roughhousing and carousing as they went. They even gave the bartender and waitress a hard time while sending their carefully arranged furniture and décor into total disarray.

“Yah in ah seats,” glowered a massive tub of lard in worn denim jeans and a ripped-up jacket that made no attempt to prevent his huge gut from hanging over them. He was flanked by a gorilla that could very well have passed for a gang member if it wasn’t already and thin man with a spiked helmet, a bad goatee, and a giant stick bug clinging to his shoulder.

“We were here first,” Katrina insisted.

“And there are still plenty of seats left,” Rion pointed out.

The thin man’s bug straightened out into a kendo stick as he slapped it against the table and said, “I think perhaps we ain’t made ourselves clear.”

“Ya in ah seats,” the fat man reiterated, leaning across the table directly into Rion’s face, the table practically bending under the pressure. Rion could smell the insects and distinct lack of proper dental hygiene on the man’s breath. He and Katrina were promptly ushered out of their seats and shoved to the floor.

“And your little dog, too!” the thin man guffawed as he kicked Wearwolf off of the third seat.

“It is most distressing being in another animal’s territory,” Wearwolf said, sitting down next to Katrina on the floor.

“You said it,” Katrina agreed.

“Hey, bartender, a couple rounds of that septic leakage you call beer for me an’ my hombres!” the Plague Rider’s leader shouted out, much to his gang’s elation. He was a large, well-muscled hulk of a man who could’ve been easily mistaken for a professional wrestler. His mass of red, unwashed hair stuck out in many threatening directions and whatever square inch of flesh that wasn’t covered by cloth, tattoos, or hair bore deep scars, some of the most painful looking were pierced with a vicious collection of items not meant to be inside the human body for any length of time, much less sticking through it. The most novel of which was a metal plate showing through a hole in his face as if he were some sort of cyborg, which had flames painted on it like a convertible.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Unnecessary Violence,” the bartender acquiesced.

“That’s Lord Unnecessary Violence,” the gang leader insisted, sitting in his chair like it was a throne of skulls and babies. “Get it right next time, or you could wind up like your son here.”

The vicious punk chick brought forth the numb-looking young man.

“M’lady,” Lord Unnecessary Violence said with a nod. The chick silently nodded back before throwing a gut-wrenching punch into the stomach of the bartender’s son, causing him to double over, and followed by a knee-wrenching kick to the back of his legs, making him topple over onto his face. Lord Unnecessary Violence propped his feet up on the lad’s back as if people did this sort of thing every day after a hard day of work and lit fat cigar. “See, that’s what you get for standin’ up for yerself. I know I say that every time, but I just get such a big kick outta sayin’ it.”

The sentiment was promptly seconded by almost the entire legion inside the bar and thirded by the others who weren’t quite as quick to respond.

“Sure, he may have almost beaten me,” Lord Unnecessary Violence went on. “But second place is still the first loser, and you ain’t getting second chances with me. Not when territory’s on the line.”

This was apparently very amusing, as the entire bar erupted into laughter.

“Man, they oughtta call this guy Lord Unnecessary Exposition,” Rion commented quietly.

Presently, the fat Plague Rider managed to haul himself back out of his chair and lumbered over to Jaime, at which point he grumbled, “Yah on mah phone.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can use it in a second,” Jaime replied, waving the Plague Rider off dismissively without even looking at him. “Look, it’s not like the party means anything to me, mum, but when ya just up and leave on us so soon it like ya don’t even care ‘bout us anymore.”

“O’ course we care about ye, lass,” Mrs. Chardonnay said. “That’s why we wanted to raise ye ourselves insteada just droppin’ ya off on some stranger’s doorstep. But ye know how important the sea is to us, especially considerin’ what I left behind.”

About this time, the fat Plague Rider turned Jaime around bodily, got right up in her face, and restated, “Yah on mah phone.”

“Uh, I gotta call you back, mum,” said Jaime, her glasses sliding down her nose. “There’s this huge Hell Mantis rider guy here, and apparently I’m on his phone.”

“Ach, he ain’t got no right interruptin’ a mother talkin’ to her daughter,” Mrs. Chardonnay admonished. “Just haul off and bop him in the nose for me.”

“Mom, I don’t think you quite understand,” Jaime said. “This guy is really big, really mean-looking, and he smells like he’s been eating garbage smothered in nacho cheese.”

“Then kick ‘im in the jewels,” Mrs. Chardonnay said. “I don’t care how you get him to bug off.”

“Mother, I hardly think that’s appropriate,” Jaime replied.

“That’s it,” Katrina said, walking up to the rider and grabbing his shoulder. “Excuse me, but you have no right to…”

The rider simply picked Katrina up and threw her into an empty table, knocking it over and scattering the chairs.

“Katrina, are you all right?” Wearwolf asked, standing over her.

“Wearwolf, I think it’s time for a little premeditated self-defense,” Katrina said. One Chimeric Fusion later, and Katrina was right back up and tapping the rider on the shoulder.

“Yeah, what?” the rider demanded as he turned around. For his efforts, he was rewarded with a savage kick to his groin. He squealed meekly, buckling over and clutching over the affected area.

“Uh, thanks,” Jaime said. “But I think you’ve incurred the wrath of the rest of the gang.”

“And I don’t blame them,” Katrina remarked.

“Hey, she took out Little John!” the thin man declared. The sounds of jocularity and roughhousing ceased as all eyes turned on Katrina and the fat man gurgling at her feet.

Katrina sheepishly scratched the back of her head and said, “Well, I don’t know what to tell ya, but your Little John’s a Tiny Tim now.”

“Young lady,” Lord Unnecessary Violence said calmly as he tapped some of his cigar ash into the hair of his footstool. “Are you aware that, in castrating one of our members, you have incurred the wrath of the Plague Riders?”

“Yeah, well I figured a bar fight would’ve ensued sooner or later,” Katrina said. Her heart was beating quickly in anticipation of rash actions, but she at least tried to maintain a cool exterior. “So, ya’ll wanna charge me all at once, or would you rather form a queue?”

“You’re a very brash little girl, Dorothy,” Lord Unnecessary Violence said, giving Katrina her own little pet name. “But I have enough brash young women in my life, and, quite frankly, I don’t see the need to include another. Slim Jim,” he Plague Riders’ leader nodded to Little John’s thinner companion, “Why don’t you send Dorothy here back over the rainbow.” With a smirk and pull from his cigar, he added, “Oh, and her little dog, too.”

“Oh, yeah,” Slim Jim confirmed as he reached for his Kendo Stick Bug that still lay on the table. A furry foot intercepted his hand and before he knew it Katrina’s opposite knee was firmly planted in his jaw. Slim Jim crumpled like a house of cards as Katrina stood on the table facing Lord Unnecessary Violence.

“So, you’re fast and strong,” Lord Unnecessary Violence said around the stogie in his mouth. “That’s cute. But I hate cute. Lefty, Righty, Ambidexy, give this girl a hand to the curb.”

The three men seated nearest Katrina quickly rose to their feet and took a hold of their MultiPets. As they charged Katrina, she stepped back off the table, flipped it up by slamming her fist on the end of it as she came down, and kicked it into the oncoming trio.

“Anymore dumb nicknames you wanna throw at me?” Katrina challenged through her heavy, measured breathing.

Lord Unnecessary Violence stared at her intently for a moment and said, “Get her.”