The air was thick with smoke, heavy with the scent of liquor. It tore at her nose ruthlessly, ripping and prying at her sense of smell. Ace quickly swept the room with her eyes, her startling blue eyes focusing on the woman sitting up at the bar with a dark brown bottle sitting next to her and another in her hand. Ace took notice of the gently glinting light seeming to come from inside of the bottle, meaning that there was something inside reflecting. Due to the angle, Ace was able to tell that it was not liquid. A steel blade sat inside that bottle, but the dark haired woman sitting next to it hadn't laid a hand on that bottle. That meant she had a partner somewhere within the small bar based off of the band Queen - a small place by the name of Her Highness - a group that had brought on the next revolution of music in 1970 to the 1990s, and were still exceptionally well known.
A faint clicking sound reached Ace's ears. She looked down at the ground, dimly light from the light on in the men's room. The rhythmic sound of boots hitting the ground sounded close by as the man walked from the men's bathroom in the corner of Her Highness. Ace carefully looked up at the male.
Dirty blonde, tanned neck, hand-me-down leather jacket, blue jeans, iconic cowboy hat, relaxed and cocky posture - seemingly all American stereotypical redneck. Boots are new, work boots, scuffed up on the sides, bottoms left untouched. Possible threat.
Her sharp eyes landed on the woman, narrowed.
Short, petite waist, large hips, light blue jeans, pink and white flannel tied around breasts, looks uncomfortable as if in pain, gripping onto bottle nervously, long brown hair - black roots visible. Naturally tanned - added color for affect. Partnered with male. Possible threat.
Ace huffed out a breath, fanning at the air in front of her nose to rid her sense of the putrid scent. She looked at the other end of the bar, two men sitting with one another. One was swaying, seemingly drunk. In front of him, Ace caught several glasses gleaming, slick with freshly poured alcohol already downed by the man. The second one had two empty clear glasses next to him. Ace caught a whiff of gin, the most likely conjunction of drinks being tonic and gin.
Both have dark hair, tanned skin, white button shirt, light blue button shirt, both seeming to be celebrating. Possible promotion - The glint of a gold ring on the first male's hand told her different - Engagement, celebration, both nearly hammered. Seemingly nonthreatening.
She turned away from the four sitting at the bar. She was the only one sitting at a table, a full glass of whisky sitting in front of her, the bottle next to it. She sighed, pushing away the cold glass and bottle. It had been three months since she had even a drop of liquor. Ace didn't have a problem, no, it wasn't like that. When she drank, she forgot, and Ace couldn't be risking forgetting the possible threats sitting on the left side of the bar only six yards away.
Ace turned her head back to the drink in front of her, that amber liquid that she had pushed away. She wanted a sip, just a small one. The tiniest drop would relieve some of the pain she was reliving. It was thirty days away; a month; such a short period of time. Those sounds, the God damned sounds echoed in her head. The muffled cries, the shuffling of their heals, the sound of metal clicking into place, the cocking of a gun. Ace knew what followed next, she knew that the horror soon to come was going to echo over and over throughout her head.
"Fuck it," she hissed and reached out her hand.
She grasped onto the cold glass and brought it to her lips. Just before the first drop could hit her tongue, the sound of glass shattering clashed into her ears. Ace looked over to the mockery of a redneck, finding that the brown glass he had left next to his partner was broken into brown pieces, the steel knife left in his hand.
"Damn it," she muttered.
His eyes were dark and clouded with something that wasn't considered normal. Rage. Unbridled rage was present in his eyes. He looked ready to kill, and by the way his was gripping onto the knife, Ace didn't doubt that. It was gripped in a downward fashion, meaning that should he have stuck someone from above, he would have to drag the weapon down a ways before it was able to be removed.
Footing - uneven; left foot carries more weight. Stance - offensive, leaned forward; he will not back down. Ticks - twitch in right hand; tremor from previous fights have left a physical mark. Weight - unevenly proportioned; easy take down from left side. Note - avoid downward blow, dodge left strike, check right hand. Status: definite threat.
Ace scooted out of her seat slowly as to not catch the attention of the female who would undoubtedly assist her partner. When Ace was able to get to her feet, she walked toward the door then took a sharp right, walking along the wall hung with frames. She pulled her black leather trench coat around her body, ensuring that it didn't catch on any chairs pushed closer to the wall than table. Ace quickly swept up behind the pair, the male now having the other two's attention. One of the males, a man with dark brown hair shaved on the sides and stuck straight up on the top of his head, looked more sober than he had previously. His dark brown eyes landed on Ace for a single second. The female stood silently, a quick motion to the enraged male stating that she would go after him.
Straight posture, dark eyes, dog tags, clenched fists, small twitch under right eye - military man.
"C'mon, pal," the brown-eyed man said carefully, "No one's gotta be hurt."
"That's where you're wrong, Major Lennox," the mockery of a redneck said. He didn't have an accent to his voice as most others would. A light English accent tainted his voice from the all-American act he was trying to put on, "You and your friends? Those giant freaks? They're gonna pay fer what they did."
He called him Major, attempting to use a scare tactic, 'I know who you are, you don't know who I am'. Lennox - confirmed military personnel. Attacking figures he holds close and dear. He wants to get onto a personal level.
Lennox looked back at Ace a second time and gave a quick nod, nonverbally stating that now was the time to attack. Extending her arm out, Ace gripped onto the man's wrist and forced it upward in an attempt to disarm him of the weapon. The woman next to him attacked Ace's exposed waist with her nails, breaking through the skin and drawing blood. Ace spared her a quick glance before she returned to tussling with the mockery of a redneck. She sent a blow toward his left ankle with her leg, throwing him off. Ace tumbled down with him, supporting his weight on top of her own as she managed to roll them onto the ground.
She felt a sudden swish of air above her. The scent of gin and musk passed through her nose. Lennox had jumped over them in - what Ace assumed to be - an attempted attack on the woman. The man struggling above Ace made a move to pin her arms above her head. She brought up her knee in a speedy fashion, nailing the cowboy in charade between his legs. The groan and puff of air was all Ace needed to know that she had dazed him for a short while.
Ace forced his weight off of her, rolling over to have him pinned below her. She tugged at the belt around her waist.
Shlink!
The metal had struck the ground next to 'Cowboy Casanova's head, causing the already in pain man to wince away from the sound. Ace grabbed hold of his wrists, forcing the under part of his arms up and wrapping her belt around them. She had to force the tongue of the belt through the leather panel to create a fourth hole. With the groaning man below her restrained, Ace got to her feet. She looked over at Lennox who had done something similar with the woman by using his own belt. Lennox stole a glance at Ace. Upon making contact, he did a double take. Ace made note of the curious expression on his face. She would be sure to ask later if she got the chance.
"Who the hell are you?" Lennox asked, looking over the woman.
"You may call me Ace," she stated as she stepped over the dazed man, "And you, Major?"
"William Lennox," he said as he held out his hand, "Thanks for saving our hides there."
Ace shrugged off the gratitude and shook the Major's hand. She'd been at bar fights, street fights, murder scenes - just about anything having to do with violence. Personally, Ace hated having the be violent, but in some cases, she had no other choice.
"You're pretty damn good at fighting, Ace," Lennox commented, "You ever been in combat training?"
"I've never had the honor of being in the armed forces," Ace admitted. She looked down at the watch on Lennox's hand, noticing the time to be 2:27 AM. She nodded politely to the Major, "I'm afraid we'll have to part ways. I've a job to do in the morning, and I wish to be there well rested."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Lennox nodded, "But... uh, you wouldn't... you wouldn't happen to know anyone named Orion Pax, would you?"
"No, sir, I do not," she said with a tone of finality in her voice, "Now, I must insist that I leave."
Lennox nodded, stepping out of the way. Ace stepped past him and over the bound woman. She left Her Highness and entered the chilled air of the night. It swirled around her, tearing at her dark hair. Her eyes, ever startling, faded into the darkness of the early morning. Her footsteps carried her toward her home, and she left the tempting bottle of whiskey behind.