The sons of bitches who caused all this hadn't left quietly. After the watcher had taken out Jon, which how he did that who the fuck knows, the "lady" built like a shit brick house hefted his passed out body over her shoulder, while the other one sat on a chair and jerked the knife Jon'd thrown out of his leg without so much as a grimace. He grabbed an abandoned glass of vodka from one of the tables and poured it on the open wound.
As they moved towards the door, Sterling and the other four bouncers on call that night formed a circle around them, with Lennard, the huge guy who only came in on nights when business was booming, coming in from outside after hearing all the commotion. He had that glint in his eye that told you he was grinning, which was otherwise hard to tell considering that nasty scar the Merchants knife had given him several years ago. Lennard was rearin' for a brawl.
Unfortunately, Lennard, Sterling and the rest had never tumbled with a specimen like MATILDA. She took a slow gaze at the group of thugs gathering around them and tenderly placed Jon's still unconscious body in a nearby seat. You couldn't even see her move. You'd think someone that big would be slow, ponderous, almost muscle bound, and you would be wrong. You'd also probably be dead. In the space of about eight seconds four of the bouncers were on their backs, two of them with clearly broken necks. Sterling had made a move to reach for the thick, foot-long knife he kept strapped to his lower back and got a bullet in his shoulder for his trouble, courtesy of the guy in leather.
Lennard, who was just as big as the she-hulk taking out Viola's toughest guards, moved to grab a nearby stool, spinning around and smashing it across the back of MATILDA's head. Might as well have been a god damn pillow for all the effect it had. The giant bitch whipped around, smashing a fist into Lennards gut, and Viola had been sure she heard his spine snap. It certainly did the trick, because the Wheels toughest bouncer was on the floor, Sterling was still in shock from the gaping wound in his shoulder, the other four were lying dead, and the three bastards were on their way out, Jon slung over a shoulder the size of his head.
"Jeee-sus. What did I miss?" Up the stairs came one of Viola's only friends, possibly the oldest man in the town, not that you could see it. Skin so black it was almost blue, his long, dread-locked hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail. White spiral tattoos covered his arms, starting just above his knuckles and stretching all the way up, peaking just above the collar of his rough cut vest. A pair of silver, rimless glasses were perched above his forehead, and the man had a ratty looking joint between his lips, half gone and spilling foul smelling smoke into a thick cloud that hovered around him.
"God damn it Daniel, what've I told you about smoking that shit up here?"
The old man gave a gravelly laugh, shook his head. "Vi, this 'shit' coulda saved yer boys' asses... had I... been present...," he trailed off rather sheepishly. Viola didn't know what the hell Daniel mixed with his personal batch of grow, but she knew he wasn't exaggerating. She'd seen the old man do some pretty outrageous things when the shit hit the fan, and each time he'd had one of his vicious looking joints clenched between his teeth.
"Some shifty looking characters were in here. Kicked the hell out of your friend Jon and took off with him." That got the old stoners attention. The sheepish grin disappeared, and the joint went out, tucked behind an ear for later attention. Daniel took another look over the recent battlefield. Viola had called in some workers from the morgue to haul off the four bodies; there had been some mishap over at another bar down the street, so they'd be another half hour or so. Harding, the surgeon who'd come by to patch up Cheryl's shoulder, was checking out the other two casualties. Sterling would get away with nothing more than a flesh wound, but the only way Lennard would walk again is if he could pull together the cash to get his ass to the City, convince some medical factory to patch him up. Spinal injuries were way more than any of the towns surgeons could tackle.
Daniel and Viola headed down the stairs, and at the same time the door of one of the rented rooms opened, and the strange man that had paid for it slowly descended. Viola caught a quick glimpse of his eyes under that wide brim hat she'd always seen him wearing, flashing over her face. His money was real, so she'd given him the room. Still, she couldn't shake that feeling.....
The man reached the ground floor before them. He strolled out into the middle of the floor, staring at the four bodies, a small smile forming on his face. He wore some bizarre jacket, intricate designs of gold thread covering the entire thing, they made your eyes hurt if you looked at it for too long. Black pinstriped pants, which if you really noticed them seemed far too thin for a grown mans legs. Shiny black pointed leather boots clad his feet, though as he walked it seemed as if the steps he was taking were hardly long enough for the distance they took him. The man wasn't right, pure and simple, and after thirty something years of running the biggest bar outside of the City, Viola knew when something wasn't right.
The man reached the bodies and crouched down to one. His name was Thomas, wasn't it? Boy just started a few days ago... His gloved hand reached out to Thomas's face, sliding up the side and resting just over his ear. The mans eyes closed and seemed to flutter, and as Viola and Daniel approached him he stood. Turning to them, he reached into his eye-burning jacket, and Daniel moved in front of her, expecting him to pull out some manner of weapon. Instead he pulled out a slip of paper and walked towards them, holding it out.
His voice was like smoke, he spoke in a whisper and yet you couldn't help but hear it, no matter how much you didn't want to. "This man. He lives in this town. Where might I find him?" Daniel, still standing in front of the Wheels matron, glanced at it.
"That'd be Jon, and I'm sorry but ye just missed him." The smile on the mans face turned into a grin, and he looked Daniel dead in the eyes.
"Where. Might I find him?"
Daniel felt a quick series of taps on his elbow; he knew it was Vi, and he knew she knew his old call signs. Danger. 'Weirdness'. He reached up, making sure to keep his hands in full view of the stranger, and took the half-smoked joint from behind his ear, sticking it between his lips. With his other hand he searched for his matches, took one out and struck it with a flick of his thumb. Lighting up, he let his body settle into a natural state, felt his muscles relaxing. "I told you, friend, ye just missed him. What might ya be needin' him for, might I ask?"
The man took a step back, as if to survey his surroundings. The grin on his face was getting wider, wider, til it stretched from ear to ear. There was a light in his eyes, quite literally a light, a dull blue glow that lit up from inside his eyeballs. The same glow faintly back-lit his teeth, making them seem to glow in the dark, despite the fierce fluorescent light bulbs strung up overhead.
He reached up, removed his hat with a gloved hand.
Danger. 'Weirdness.'
The old man gave a gravelly laugh, shook his head. "Vi, this 'shit' coulda saved yer boys' asses... had I... been present...," he trailed off rather sheepishly. Viola didn't know what the hell Daniel mixed with his personal batch of grow, but she knew he wasn't exaggerating. She'd seen the old man do some pretty outrageous things when the shit hit the fan, and each time he'd had one of his vicious looking joints clenched between his teeth.
"Some shifty looking characters were in here. Kicked the hell out of your friend Jon and took off with him." That got the old stoners attention. The sheepish grin disappeared, and the joint went out, tucked behind an ear for later attention. Daniel took another look over the recent battlefield. Viola had called in some workers from the morgue to haul off the four bodies; there had been some mishap over at another bar down the street, so they'd be another half hour or so. Harding, the surgeon who'd come by to patch up Cheryl's shoulder, was checking out the other two casualties. Sterling would get away with nothing more than a flesh wound, but the only way Lennard would walk again is if he could pull together the cash to get his ass to the City, convince some medical factory to patch him up. Spinal injuries were way more than any of the towns surgeons could tackle.
Daniel and Viola headed down the stairs, and at the same time the door of one of the rented rooms opened, and the strange man that had paid for it slowly descended. Viola caught a quick glimpse of his eyes under that wide brim hat she'd always seen him wearing, flashing over her face. His money was real, so she'd given him the room. Still, she couldn't shake that feeling.....
The man reached the ground floor before them. He strolled out into the middle of the floor, staring at the four bodies, a small smile forming on his face. He wore some bizarre jacket, intricate designs of gold thread covering the entire thing, they made your eyes hurt if you looked at it for too long. Black pinstriped pants, which if you really noticed them seemed far too thin for a grown mans legs. Shiny black pointed leather boots clad his feet, though as he walked it seemed as if the steps he was taking were hardly long enough for the distance they took him. The man wasn't right, pure and simple, and after thirty something years of running the biggest bar outside of the City, Viola knew when something wasn't right.
The man reached the bodies and crouched down to one. His name was Thomas, wasn't it? Boy just started a few days ago... His gloved hand reached out to Thomas's face, sliding up the side and resting just over his ear. The mans eyes closed and seemed to flutter, and as Viola and Daniel approached him he stood. Turning to them, he reached into his eye-burning jacket, and Daniel moved in front of her, expecting him to pull out some manner of weapon. Instead he pulled out a slip of paper and walked towards them, holding it out.
His voice was like smoke, he spoke in a whisper and yet you couldn't help but hear it, no matter how much you didn't want to. "This man. He lives in this town. Where might I find him?" Daniel, still standing in front of the Wheels matron, glanced at it.
"That'd be Jon, and I'm sorry but ye just missed him." The smile on the mans face turned into a grin, and he looked Daniel dead in the eyes.
"Where. Might I find him?"
Daniel felt a quick series of taps on his elbow; he knew it was Vi, and he knew she knew his old call signs. Danger. 'Weirdness'. He reached up, making sure to keep his hands in full view of the stranger, and took the half-smoked joint from behind his ear, sticking it between his lips. With his other hand he searched for his matches, took one out and struck it with a flick of his thumb. Lighting up, he let his body settle into a natural state, felt his muscles relaxing. "I told you, friend, ye just missed him. What might ya be needin' him for, might I ask?"
The man took a step back, as if to survey his surroundings. The grin on his face was getting wider, wider, til it stretched from ear to ear. There was a light in his eyes, quite literally a light, a dull blue glow that lit up from inside his eyeballs. The same glow faintly back-lit his teeth, making them seem to glow in the dark, despite the fierce fluorescent light bulbs strung up overhead.
He reached up, removed his hat with a gloved hand.
Danger. 'Weirdness.'
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