Novelist and more.
Andrew Baxter and his female companion have just entered a dilapidated city bar which hides a larger domed interior reaching to the sky, as his companion begins to make introductions, someones angry shout rattles the lofty surroundings and the owner of the raised voice moves to confront them both….
Previous parts are linked at the bottom of the page.
A man stomped across the room as the crowd parted.
The room stretched the width of a football field but for some reason the man crossed the distance in four steps. Each step echoed in the stillness after the music stopped.
“What do you think you’re doing? He’s mine.” he had an accent but Andrew couldn’t place it.
He stepped up to them, moving uncomfortably into their personal space and glared down at the woman.
One second he smelled fresh, then next he smelled…bad.
He looked Mediterranean, with a dark complexion, maybe Greek. His clothes were expensive but casual. He was in the same shape as Andrew but seemed even more athletic somehow. His eyes were odd too. They flowed from ebony and back to Hazel as he breathed.
“No, he isn’t.” the woman said calmly.
“You know damn well he’s one of mine. He’s bloodied.” His voice deepened and implied a threat.
She sighed, “Yes, there is that, but then there have been others before who were.”
“He has taken the life of five others, therefore he is mine by deed.” He took a step closer.
How did this man, or whatever he is, know he had killed five insurgents.
Five men who were sick of spirit, as Grandfather once said, who stained Andrew’s spirit by forcing him to take their lives.
Five men he saw each night in his dreams along with his fallen comrades.
Five spirits he had taken to his regret.
“But he is mine, by more deeds.” She refused to yield.
“You will release him and find another.” The man stepped forward pushing her slightly with his body.
She started to say something but Andrew placed his prosthetic hand on the man’s chest and stepped between them, gently insinuating himself between them.
“Andrew?” she said with a warning tone.
The man stared down at the offending touch and his eyes turned wholly ebony.
Andrew was slightly shocked by the sight , but wouldn’t remove his hand.
“Yo! Tonto! Take your hands off him before I take the rest of that arm!”
The man smiled and stepped back as a small, petite woman stepped forward.
She was athletic. Wearing a tank top which barely covered full large breasts minus a bra, she wiped her hands on her ripped jeans which were pressed into black boots.
Her hair was shaved bald on the left side and the remainder was made up of three colors, starting from top of her head were strands of purple, then gold, then black. Her hair was short and straight cut in different layers. Her left earlobe was gone and she had a tattoo of a tear on her left cheek.
Her chest tattoo was a screaming skull with wings chewing a woman in two. Inked tattoo arm sleeves from the collarbone to the finger tips. Scenes of violence, destruction, sexual situations, and strange symbols made up the sleeves. The tank top was short and displayed a tattooed abdomen with a hard six-pack. Her muscled arms flexed and her face crawled with attitude.
“Sorry there Chief, take your thing off him.” She smirked indicating his prosthetic hand.
He realized she was wearing a pair of dog tags around her neck just as he did, on her right shoulder she had the seal of the Marine corps, on the left the Department of the Army.
The dark man smiled and crossed his arms.
Andrew lowered his hand and stepped back, the blue dressed woman taking his arm again.
“Damn, she could have at least found a whole man.” The tattooed woman sneered.
Andrew smiled, “I was just thinking the same thing about this guy’s choice.” He motioned at the dark man.
The tattooed woman stared at him for a second before her eyes closed to slits.
“How would you like me to make a stump out of your other leg, Geronimo?”
“Better men than you have tried.”
And they had too, as far as Andrew was concerned.
She lifted her shirt and displayed her bare, and tattooed, breasts adorned with gold nipple piercings.
“This look like a man to you, Dances with wolves?”
Andrew shrugged, “I’ve seen cross dressers who look better…and resembled a woman more.”
She pulled her shirt down and turned slightly to the side.
Andrew realized she was taking a fighting stance and turned his left side to her while pressing the blue dressed woman behind him.
“You think I can’t whip your ass, stumpy?” she pulled slightly on her jeans loosening them up.
“You’re welcome to try.”
“Scipio, restrain her.” The lady said.
The dark man took a step back, “You won’t release what is rightfully mine, Tilda is definitely mine, so let’s see how they stand up to each other.”
“Andrew, you will not fight.” The blue dressed lady whispered.
“Sorry lady but I don’t think I have much a choice. You brought me here remember.”
Tilda motioned for Andrew to come at her, “Come on Tonto, be a good little bitch and let’s see what you got.”
Andrew never liked hitting women, even his fellow female soldiers when they sparred in training and those women could hold their own against any man.
His mind switched modes and he considered her an enemy combatant.
“Hah, I told you he was one of mine.” Scipio laughed.
To be continued…