Chapter Two: Gung-Ho Wannabes
The Sinking Sun Tavern, 200 iles from June
"All right, I'll have that for you right away, sir!" The brunette barmaid grinned and sauntered back to fetch another beer for her customer.
"Pretty one, isn't she?"
"Why don't you ask her for her number?"
"No way, I'm too embarrassed…"
It was Saturday afternoon, and the tavern was typically busy. A few waitresses in short, low-cut dresses brought beer and food out to their customers, who played card games or just talked amongst themselves.
The door swung open, and bright sunlight streamed in behind the latest arrival, leaving her silhouetted against the light. She was tall, and carried a large cross wrapped in cloth on her back.
"Here you go," the waitress was saying, but she nearly dropped the mugs of beer she was carrying when she looked at the newcomer.
The blond woman with the cross shrugged off the attention and took a seat at a vacant table. The brunette waitress dropped the beers on the table and rushed to serve her.
"May I help you?" she said, grinning and looking rather excited. The guest shook her head and pushed her purple-tinted sunglasses up her nose.
"I'll have a glass of red wine," she began, as several shadows loomed up behind the waitress.
"You can't sit there," a man told her.
The woman with the cross looked up at him over the rims of her glasses. "Oh? And why might that be?"
"Because that table belongs to Oliver the Scorpion."
"Oliver the Scorpion, huh?"
The man leaned down to grab the throat of her jacket. "He's the leader of the Gung-Ho Guns," he said. "If you don't want trouble around here, stranger, you won't mess with him!"
"Gung-Ho Guns, huh?" The woman had a bit of a smirk on her face.
"I'm only going to give you one warning! If you think that you can just waltz in here and act like you own the town, just because you've got that fancy thing with you…"
"That has to be the coolest thing I've ever seen!" the waitress gushed, cutting into the man's threat. "Can I touch it?"
The stranger was rather surprised by this request. "I guess, so long as you're— careful—" She winced as the cross tipped over as a result of the waitress's poking, and clattered to the floor with a sound that rattled everyone in the tavern. The stranger rolled her eyes and got up to retrieve her cross.
"Oh, I'm really really sorry! Is it okay?"
"It's fine…" the stranger replied. "I suppose I've got to go find a better table. About my wine…"
"Yes ma'am, right away, ma'am!" The waitress was nodding and following the stranger to her new seat. "Where did you get such an awesome cross?"
The stranger propped the cross against her chair and sat down. "I guess you could say it's a family heirloom. Now, my drink—"
"Why's it all wrapped up like that? What's in there?"
"Obviously, it's a big, heavy cross. I've got it wrapped up to keep it from getting dirty. What is this, twenty questions? I thought I ordered a drink!"
"I—I'm sorry, ma'am! It's just that your cross looks so cool—heck, you look so cool—"
"I appreciate it, really, but I'm also damn thirsty!"
"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry, ma'am, right away, ma'am!" The waitress finally scurried off, and the stranger breathed a sigh of relief. She could still feel the eyes of the group of men who had threatened her…well, she'd known before she came here that she was going to find trouble in this town.
"So…the Gung-Ho Guns…" she muttered.
"I brought it back as quickly as I could, ma'am!" The waitress was back all too soon with a glass of red wine, which she placed in front of the stranger.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." The waitress didn't move; she just stood there, grinning.
"I said, thanks," the stranger repeated.
"And I said, 'you're welcome!'"
The stranger groaned. "Well, if you're going to be hanging around here, you could at least make yourself useful. What do you know about the Gung-Ho Guns?"
Those three words wiped the grin off the waitress's face. "They think they can scare people by using the name from that gang, a hundred years ago," she said. "Stupid, causing trouble in these peaceful times…"
"If these times are so peaceful, why do you have a gun under your skirt?" the stranger replied dryly.
"Oh, you noticed?" giggled the waitress. "Really, things can get rough in here, so try not to get in the way."
The guest sipped her wine. "I'll keep that in mind."
A man stormed through the front door.
"Looks like it's time for things to get rough," the waitress giggled. The customer rolled her eyes, but at least the waitress walked away.
The crowd parted, and the man walked to the seat where she had originally sat down. Time for things to get rough, huh? That should be my line. She wrapped her hand around one of the straps on the cross, ready to pull it off when the time was right. When his buddies weren't all so close around him…
"Give me a bottle of beer," the man sneered at the waitress who had been bothering her a moment ago. She winked and reached down to her leg. The guest with a cross had a very bad feeling about this…
"Mr. Oliver the Scorpion, your reign of terror in this down is over!" The waitress pulled her gun, pointed it at the man, and grinned.
Men from behind her seized the waitress's arms, and she shrieked and kicked. One of them seized the gun from her hand and tossed it aside, and the leader—the so-called Oliver the Scorpion—drew a gun and held it to her head. The other guests panicked, but the waitress just shouted insults as she tried to fight herself free.
"Dammit…everyone, get out of here!" the guest shouted. Dammit…I didn't want it to go like this! That idiot! She pulled the strap, and the wrapping of fabric fell away from her cross.
"Wow, that's awesome!" the waitress said, momentarily distracted from the fact that she was being held defenseless and had a gun against her head.
"What are you doing?" the woman with the cross demanded.
"Yess…you were saying something interesting," Oliver said. "But what's ending now is your life, missy."
"No it's not," the waitress replied, and she bit hard into the arm of one of the men who was holding her. He shouted in pain and pulled his arm back. She kicked back at the other man, the spike of her heel connecting with his groin, and he too pulled away. Oliver fired a shot, but missed. "Now where did my gun go?" she asked.
"Over there," the other woman replied, pointing. "Hey, over here!" she called to the Gung-ho Guns crowded around the waitress. "You're quite a pathetic imitation of the original, you know," she said.
"What the hell is that?" one of them asked, pointing to her weapon.
"A family heirloom," the woman replied, and she pulled two small guns from its crossbars. "Funny thing is, I came here to take care of the Gung-ho Guns myself."
"Bitch! Kill them both!" Oliver shouted.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you that killing was wrong?" The woman continued speaking, and the waitress fought off a couple more of the Gung-ho Guns who tried to prevent her from retrieving her pistol. There's still too many of them…come on, missy, I hate to admit it, but you can be of use here…
"Hahahaha!" The waitress's voice rose from the darkness. She hopped up, pistol in hand, from a pile of more-or-less unconscious thugs. "Victory is mine! Mr. Scorpion, you're going down!"
"What the hell are you waiting for?!" Oliver demanded, and the other Gung-ho Guns opened fire. The two women ducked behind a table.
"Looks like I underestimated you," the blond said. "So, what's your name, anyway?"
"Spike," the waitress replied with a grin. The gunfire continued.
"…Spike?"
"Mm-hm!"
"I'm Val," the blond replied, firing a shot over the edge of the table. Someone screamed in pain.
"I thought you said it was wrong to kill," Spike said.
"I didn't kill anyone. I got his shoulder."
"What?!"
"When I give the signal, you take that side, got it?"
"Wha…" Spike drifted off, then nodded. "Got it!"
She counted down on her fingers. "Three, two, one, go!" The two women rolled out opposite sides of the table, shooting. Val aimed and fired methodically, going for non-vital organs. Spike fired twice and then reverted to hand fighting; the men were too close, and she could kick them better than she could shoot them.
"Nice underpants," one of the men commented, as she kicked someone else in the face. Spike paused for a moment and turned pink.
"Stupid stupid stupid!" she screamed, pummeling him down. "How dare you! You pervert!"
"It's your fault for dressing that way," Val said. "We're down to one, you know."
Spike looked up from her pummeling. "Oh."
Oliver the Scorpion was cowering in a corner. "Who…who are you people?!"
"You take such pride in such a dirty name, but those who originally held it would not hold you fit to shine their shoes," Val said. "Idiots like you annoy me. Consider yourself lucky that I keep my promises. Spike, call the police station and have them come clean this up."
Val picked up her cross and hefted it over her shoulder. She turned to leave.
"Val, wait!" Spike took off after her. "Are you just going to walk away from this? After all you did?"
"That was the plan," Val replied.
"Oh, that is so awesome! I wanna go with you!"
Val blinked. "You want to come with me?"
"Yeah! I mean…we seemed like a pretty good team back there, don't you think?" Spike said. Val winced. "If you say no, I'm going to follow you anyway."
"I kinda guessed," Val replied. "Come on, then."
"So, where are we going, Val?"
"I'm on my way to June…I told someone I'd meet him there. But if you don't want to come, I can—"
"Oh, no, that sounds great! Look out, June, Val and Spike are on their way!"
God…what did I ever do to deserve this?
"Wahooo! We sure are awesome, aren't we, Val?"