Week 5: AJ Javanel- Interstellar Cowboy Bar Brawl

Full Prompt: “Interstellar cowboy bar brawl”

Story:

“You can’t do that.”

“…and why not?…”

“That’s not how the game works, pal.”

“Says who?”

“Says just about every person who’s played since its inception.”

“Oh, Is that all?…”

Cast McCall was very good at Hra-ludum, a game best described as a cross between the Earth-based card games of Poker and War. He was very good because he knew how to cheat; an advantage which diminished the more he imbibed. Usually able to persuade less educated and charismatic personalities of the legitimacy of the moves he was making, this particular evening he had been over-served. Over served by his own bartender. Because in Une Pipe, where this game was taking place, he made the rules. Very few people knew Cast to be the owner of this smokery and bar and he liked keeping it that way. Unbeknownst, and unfortunately for his opponents, Cast had a bone to pick with the week’s events and this day resorted to gambling, the bottle, and antagonization to do so. 

“Listen friend…” 

“I’m not your friend… I’m your opponent.”

“Alright, well if it's gonna be that way…”

“Yeah, it's gonna be that way.” 

Cast peered below the brim of his hat and above his opaquely glassed lenses at the three figures across the table. One homo sapien, Xavian- who had a few bionic enhancements. The second, a Reptilia Magna named Rhett- think walking alligator with an abrupt snout. Finally, the one who had been challenging him, a Rabebeau. Rabebeaux were creatures that bore a striking resemblance to crows, but walked on two legs and had the advantage of both wing and arm. Fiercely intelligent and cunning beings, but with a hollow skeletal structure akin to the aforementioned birds. Stygian, the Rabebuau, sat unflinching in his accusations toward Cast. The tension escalated and soon the entire bar was on edge. Everyone that is except a lone female, sat in a dark corner, dimly lit by a smoldering hookah. 

Cast, already looking for trouble, made the first move. His right foot, clad in a worn and hardened cowboy boot, violently snapped into action against the fragile skeletal structure of Stygian’s left ankle. An avian screech rang throughout the bar and Cast, dawned a wry smile. Rhett met his gaze and matched his smile, throwing himself across the table to tackle the antagonist. The three brawlers were soon four. Joined by Xavian, the final player of the game of Hra-ludum. Their number increased to five when Xavian’s metallic-clad fist found the bartender’s jaw bone after a feeble attempt to settle the brawl by command and too mild an application of might. The ruckus now invited other participants due to sheer disrespect and incident. 

The whole establishment was soon in upheaval. Save for one. The lone woman smoking in the corner stayed her calm as she watched the events unfold. No stranger to a fight, but never eager to seek one out. Her wide hat was tipped low and smoke emitted from underneath every few minutes. She watched the predominantly male patrons of Une Pipe attempt to exert their intergalactic masculinity over one another in mostly harmless fashion. Punches were thrown, kicks administered, a headbutt here and there. Hangovers and headaches to be had by all the next day. That is until Stygian, from a sheath in his now wounded left ankle, pulled a stunted particle blade. The whir it emitted when powered on was unmistakable to the woman’s ears as she was more than familiar with this particular weapon. Cast was distracted from its noise, administering a comically effective haymaker of a right hook to three Ceptulians- four foot tall, golden hided armadillo- like humanoids. His nose and lip bleeding, glasses cracked, but with the same smirk indicating he was taking this fight as frolic instead of fatality. He’d never see the blade coming. The woman didn’t know Cast, but she knew death. And she knew death would draw the authorities. Something she’d rather avoid. 

Not moving from her seat and in swift of draw as anyone has seen, she pulled her weapon from her hip and blasted the blade out of Stygian’s winged hand. The sound of a mock-9 phaser gun being fired in the bar got the crowd’s attention. The woman glared at the Rabebeau, as the gravity of the situation revealed itself to Cast. Her gaze steady, she shook her head slowly back and forth indicating the bird would have a better chance sprouting a third wing than trying to stab anyone else in this bar. 

Une Pipe was soon empty. To tend their wounds or find the next game the patrons had gone their ways. Cast, now with a cloth full of ice pressed to his cheek, grabbed a chair and faced its back to the stranger as he threw his leg over it and sat to face her. 

“Well, I guess I owe you.”

“…How so?”

“You see my bartender over there? Not much gets by him and he seems to think, had you not intervened, our bird friend would have punched my ticket during this skirmish. I’m inclined to agree”

“Maybe I just don’t like birds.” 

“Maybe you don’t. Who am I to say?…"

The woman sat motionless. 

“Look at the mess I’ve made for myself…” Cast exhaled

The woman, still unresponsive, stared at the purveyor, calmly puffing on the hookah. 

Cast looked around the room and shook his head continuing: 

“Well, I guess I owe you one… If there’s anything I can ever do to repay you- let me know.” 

“This is on the house.” She nodded at the hookah.

“Of course it is. That and anything else you had this evening… What do I call you?… Do you have a name?…”

The woman rose from her seat and pushed it back into the table. Turning her back toward Cast and Une Pipe, she opened the door to exit, her figure cut by the dimming light now let in by the swinging door- 

“No. But most call me The Aviatrix.”