The Seven Fiancees
Episode 4: 'Ramen Western'
This episode was brought to you by Meary, the greatest product in the world, Meary!
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The velvet green BMW model 7 series pulled off the highway to the exit that was one mile ahead of the sign announcing the turn off to Council Road. After a turn to the left, the luxury car into the parking lot of a sizable green building, identified by the neon 'Shamrocks' sign on the side that could be seen from the road.
"GET. OUT!" A femenine voice screamed out in heavily fustrated Japanese.
A woman with pale lavender hair and a light purple closed up trenchcoat quickly stumbled out of the diver's side back seat, while a woman in a business suit cut for the more petite frames of a woman, with short cropped hair on the sides, and a long ponytail in the back bolted out of the passenger side back seat. They both glared at each other with undiguised malice, as the driver of the vehicle stepped out with obvious attitude.
The final woman wiped one side of the scarlet streaked and tipped hair that came down to her chin and covered her face aside, tucking it behind her ear, so the other two women could see her irritation. "I swear, you two've gotten worse since we were teenagers."
"She started it," Both Chef and Lavender stated heatedly, and in unison.
"Just... just..." Scarlet growled, throwing her arms up in fustration, before calming herself down with the notion of business and cold vengence, "Those papers didn't have much in them, so we're going to have to look up this lead that courrier gave us."
"We know what we're supposed to be looking for?" Chef enquired in her usual terse tone.
"No," Scarlet replied, before covering her face completely with her hair, though her smirk could still be seen in the in the barely lit parking lot, "But we'll just do like in all those American movies, and ask the bartender."
"Those were westerns," Chef interjected, not satisfied with the logic.
"Well, we *are* in Oklahoma, right?" With that, Scarlet swaggered into the bar. Chef frowned, and shook her head, as Lavender walked by, snickering.
The three Asian women entered the bar, immidiately assaulted by the heavy smoke within. True to her plan, Scarlet walked up to the bar, ignoring the stares she recieved from the regulars there; unaccustomed to seeing such an exorbantly dressed woman in their midst.
Didn't take her long to catch the eye bar attendent, who raised his index finger to signal for a moment, before coming over to her. "What're you thirsty for?"
"I'm looking for some information on a guy who might have passed through here," Scarlet replied in Japanese accented English that was attempting a southern American drawl like she had heard in many movies.
The bartender stared at her for the longest time, "Whaddyou think this is? Some kinda damn western?" Scarlet leaned back in slight chagrin and embarrassment, before turning back to the chuckle behind her. Even over the cacophany of western music, beerbottles against wooden tables, and various conversations, Chef apparently heard the reply, and understood it enough.
"This isn't a place for trouble, kid," the bartender continued, "I can't tell ya of anyone that can help ya with-"
The sound of a bottle breaking drew both of their attentions to a large Native American with enough muscles to supply a small army with sufficent manpower, staring down a shorter Native American with long black hair that ascaded down his back like deep brown waterfall. The shorter didn't back down from the stare, as he matched the glare with the same intensity.
The taller man allowed a nasty smirk to cross his face, as he removed his fist from the crushed beer bottle that he pound down into a flat ring of pulverized glass. "What ya gonna do?" the taller man asked in a raspy, menacing voice, "This inn't your territory, Indian cop, and you don't have anything on me."
the shorter man surrepticiously reached his left hand to his back, where his preferred weaponry lay conceiled. "I'm not going to tell you what I intend to do," his reply came in a tone of relaxed confidense; a man who didn't seem to ever know the concept of fear. Though he reaked of confident determination, he did hold an air of wariness for the man before him, "but, you got the right idea to be worried about it."
"Ah, hell," the bartender griped, "Those two assholes..."
Scarlet looked to the bartender, and back to the scene that had everyone else's attention. He was obviously worried about the damage that was going to be done to his establishment. The Japanese woman decided that if the bar attendant was just being guarded about supplying information, maybe a sign of good will may loosen his tongue.
"You got a lot of talk," the taller man sneered, before slightly shifting his balance to support his weight on his back right leg, "but, you're not telling me anything."
The shorter man was already in motion, just as the taller man's right fist came soaring for his head. The punch was stopped, by the hatchet held in the shorter man's left hand, as his right hand was reaching behind his back. The aggressor suddenly braced his left forward foot flat against the ground, and then shot his right leg up for a Muay Thai crecent kick to the ribs. Before the kick could reach its destination, the shorter man's right hand shot out towards the ankle of the other man's foot, launching his second hatchet at it. The weapon shot by the ankle, before swinging around it, courtesy of the strong twine that was attached to the handle.
The shorter man ducked under the kick, and spun to his right, while tugging at the end of the twine he had attached to his wrist. With a grunt, the taller Native American was tripped to the ground after having his support foot taken from under him. The one still standing came to a full rotation, while hurling the hatchet in his left hand in a sideways pitch at the floored man's head.
The man on the ground didn't even flinch, as the hatchet buried itself in the floor just an inch from his head, but twisted to the sound of a steel toed boot stomping onto the embedded hatchet, disallowing it to be freed.
"I reckon that nobody wants trouble here," Scarlet replied in a poor western accent that was well ruined by the hint of her nationality, "Why don't you two boys take it elsewhere for the night?"
Scarlet was then flanked by Lavender and Chef; the former ready to open her trenchcoat to retrieve her guns, while the latter held her still folded whipping cane at her side.
With a distainful frown, the man identified as possibly a police officer shook the twine attached to his right wrist, before jerking it back. The hatchet that was wrapped around the other man's ankle came aloose, and sailed into the waiting hand of its owner.
"Heh," the taller man picked himself off the ground while smirking hautily at the other man, "Some other time, copper..." With that, he straightened out his flannel jacket that was cut off at his forearms, revealing arm wrappings, and walked out of the bar, shoving a few gawking pedestrians out of the way.
"An officer of the law trying to cause trouble?" Scarlet enquired, removing her foot from hatchet, "You should know that this isn't the place for such things."
With a twitch of his left wrist, the second hatchet returned home, to join it's mate in the back of the native American's jeans. "Actually, you did me a bit of a favor there," the man identified as an officer of the law replied, relaxing himself, "I wasn't actually expecting to meet him here. I was actually out here to enjoy a little peace and quiet."
Scarlet nodded, before turning back to the bar, hoping the grateful bar attendent may be able to help her out a bit more. As she started to walk away, she felt a hand on her right shoulder. On instinct, her left hand reached across her front to trap the offending hand. Once she caught it, she turned around, ready to deliver a backfist with her right hand to the ribs.
The native American quickly stepped closer to Scarlet's back, and dashed along with her rotation, before resting his right hip against the back of her right, arresting her momentum. "Whoa! I was just going to offer to buy you a drink in hospitality!"
"He's fast, possibly as fast as Shampoo," The Japanese woman thought to herself. Scarlet let go of the man's hand, and stepped away, noting that both Lavender and Chef had their own weapons ready, along with several other bar attendants. "Thank you for the offer," Scarlet replied in an icy tone to ward off any suiters, "but I'm here on business."
"Hmm, what type of business would that be?" the Native American enquired, curiously.
"The type that's none of your business," Scarlet replied, not turning around.
"Oh, that type of business," the officer replied in a dry tone, "Meeting someone?"
Scarlet turned back to the man she had just stopped a few moments prior, "You are rather nosy, you know that?"
"I've been told," the man responded, "Well, I'm an officer of the law, maybe I can help you for whoever you're looking for?"
Scarlet paused in consideration, before speaking again, "This isn't quite something in your... jurisdiction, I believe the word is?"
The native American shrugged, "Sometimes the way to get a job done is to work outside the law." He reached out his hand in offering, "Name's David Redmond, Reservation Cop for the Apache Nation in Oklahoma."
After a bit more of consideration, Scarlet reached her hand out, and shook David's hand.
Episode 4: 'Ramen Western'
This episode was brought to you by Meary, the greatest product in the world, Meary!
_________________________________________
The velvet green BMW model 7 series pulled off the highway to the exit that was one mile ahead of the sign announcing the turn off to Council Road. After a turn to the left, the luxury car into the parking lot of a sizable green building, identified by the neon 'Shamrocks' sign on the side that could be seen from the road.
"GET. OUT!" A femenine voice screamed out in heavily fustrated Japanese.
A woman with pale lavender hair and a light purple closed up trenchcoat quickly stumbled out of the diver's side back seat, while a woman in a business suit cut for the more petite frames of a woman, with short cropped hair on the sides, and a long ponytail in the back bolted out of the passenger side back seat. They both glared at each other with undiguised malice, as the driver of the vehicle stepped out with obvious attitude.
The final woman wiped one side of the scarlet streaked and tipped hair that came down to her chin and covered her face aside, tucking it behind her ear, so the other two women could see her irritation. "I swear, you two've gotten worse since we were teenagers."
"She started it," Both Chef and Lavender stated heatedly, and in unison.
"Just... just..." Scarlet growled, throwing her arms up in fustration, before calming herself down with the notion of business and cold vengence, "Those papers didn't have much in them, so we're going to have to look up this lead that courrier gave us."
"We know what we're supposed to be looking for?" Chef enquired in her usual terse tone.
"No," Scarlet replied, before covering her face completely with her hair, though her smirk could still be seen in the in the barely lit parking lot, "But we'll just do like in all those American movies, and ask the bartender."
"Those were westerns," Chef interjected, not satisfied with the logic.
"Well, we *are* in Oklahoma, right?" With that, Scarlet swaggered into the bar. Chef frowned, and shook her head, as Lavender walked by, snickering.
The three Asian women entered the bar, immidiately assaulted by the heavy smoke within. True to her plan, Scarlet walked up to the bar, ignoring the stares she recieved from the regulars there; unaccustomed to seeing such an exorbantly dressed woman in their midst.
Didn't take her long to catch the eye bar attendent, who raised his index finger to signal for a moment, before coming over to her. "What're you thirsty for?"
"I'm looking for some information on a guy who might have passed through here," Scarlet replied in Japanese accented English that was attempting a southern American drawl like she had heard in many movies.
The bartender stared at her for the longest time, "Whaddyou think this is? Some kinda damn western?" Scarlet leaned back in slight chagrin and embarrassment, before turning back to the chuckle behind her. Even over the cacophany of western music, beerbottles against wooden tables, and various conversations, Chef apparently heard the reply, and understood it enough.
"This isn't a place for trouble, kid," the bartender continued, "I can't tell ya of anyone that can help ya with-"
The sound of a bottle breaking drew both of their attentions to a large Native American with enough muscles to supply a small army with sufficent manpower, staring down a shorter Native American with long black hair that ascaded down his back like deep brown waterfall. The shorter didn't back down from the stare, as he matched the glare with the same intensity.
The taller man allowed a nasty smirk to cross his face, as he removed his fist from the crushed beer bottle that he pound down into a flat ring of pulverized glass. "What ya gonna do?" the taller man asked in a raspy, menacing voice, "This inn't your territory, Indian cop, and you don't have anything on me."
the shorter man surrepticiously reached his left hand to his back, where his preferred weaponry lay conceiled. "I'm not going to tell you what I intend to do," his reply came in a tone of relaxed confidense; a man who didn't seem to ever know the concept of fear. Though he reaked of confident determination, he did hold an air of wariness for the man before him, "but, you got the right idea to be worried about it."
"Ah, hell," the bartender griped, "Those two assholes..."
Scarlet looked to the bartender, and back to the scene that had everyone else's attention. He was obviously worried about the damage that was going to be done to his establishment. The Japanese woman decided that if the bar attendant was just being guarded about supplying information, maybe a sign of good will may loosen his tongue.
"You got a lot of talk," the taller man sneered, before slightly shifting his balance to support his weight on his back right leg, "but, you're not telling me anything."
The shorter man was already in motion, just as the taller man's right fist came soaring for his head. The punch was stopped, by the hatchet held in the shorter man's left hand, as his right hand was reaching behind his back. The aggressor suddenly braced his left forward foot flat against the ground, and then shot his right leg up for a Muay Thai crecent kick to the ribs. Before the kick could reach its destination, the shorter man's right hand shot out towards the ankle of the other man's foot, launching his second hatchet at it. The weapon shot by the ankle, before swinging around it, courtesy of the strong twine that was attached to the handle.
The shorter man ducked under the kick, and spun to his right, while tugging at the end of the twine he had attached to his wrist. With a grunt, the taller Native American was tripped to the ground after having his support foot taken from under him. The one still standing came to a full rotation, while hurling the hatchet in his left hand in a sideways pitch at the floored man's head.
The man on the ground didn't even flinch, as the hatchet buried itself in the floor just an inch from his head, but twisted to the sound of a steel toed boot stomping onto the embedded hatchet, disallowing it to be freed.
"I reckon that nobody wants trouble here," Scarlet replied in a poor western accent that was well ruined by the hint of her nationality, "Why don't you two boys take it elsewhere for the night?"
Scarlet was then flanked by Lavender and Chef; the former ready to open her trenchcoat to retrieve her guns, while the latter held her still folded whipping cane at her side.
With a distainful frown, the man identified as possibly a police officer shook the twine attached to his right wrist, before jerking it back. The hatchet that was wrapped around the other man's ankle came aloose, and sailed into the waiting hand of its owner.
"Heh," the taller man picked himself off the ground while smirking hautily at the other man, "Some other time, copper..." With that, he straightened out his flannel jacket that was cut off at his forearms, revealing arm wrappings, and walked out of the bar, shoving a few gawking pedestrians out of the way.
"An officer of the law trying to cause trouble?" Scarlet enquired, removing her foot from hatchet, "You should know that this isn't the place for such things."
With a twitch of his left wrist, the second hatchet returned home, to join it's mate in the back of the native American's jeans. "Actually, you did me a bit of a favor there," the man identified as an officer of the law replied, relaxing himself, "I wasn't actually expecting to meet him here. I was actually out here to enjoy a little peace and quiet."
Scarlet nodded, before turning back to the bar, hoping the grateful bar attendent may be able to help her out a bit more. As she started to walk away, she felt a hand on her right shoulder. On instinct, her left hand reached across her front to trap the offending hand. Once she caught it, she turned around, ready to deliver a backfist with her right hand to the ribs.
The native American quickly stepped closer to Scarlet's back, and dashed along with her rotation, before resting his right hip against the back of her right, arresting her momentum. "Whoa! I was just going to offer to buy you a drink in hospitality!"
"He's fast, possibly as fast as Shampoo," The Japanese woman thought to herself. Scarlet let go of the man's hand, and stepped away, noting that both Lavender and Chef had their own weapons ready, along with several other bar attendants. "Thank you for the offer," Scarlet replied in an icy tone to ward off any suiters, "but I'm here on business."
"Hmm, what type of business would that be?" the Native American enquired, curiously.
"The type that's none of your business," Scarlet replied, not turning around.
"Oh, that type of business," the officer replied in a dry tone, "Meeting someone?"
Scarlet turned back to the man she had just stopped a few moments prior, "You are rather nosy, you know that?"
"I've been told," the man responded, "Well, I'm an officer of the law, maybe I can help you for whoever you're looking for?"
Scarlet paused in consideration, before speaking again, "This isn't quite something in your... jurisdiction, I believe the word is?"
The native American shrugged, "Sometimes the way to get a job done is to work outside the law." He reached out his hand in offering, "Name's David Redmond, Reservation Cop for the Apache Nation in Oklahoma."
After a bit more of consideration, Scarlet reached her hand out, and shook David's hand.