Chapter 2:
Jack Voxxon
"I told you to leave this place. Your kind is not welcome here, SLAVE!"
The large Amarri got no further. A sudden rage filled Jack and he slipped through the distance separating him from the pilot like a barracuda. He vaulted to the tabletop and threw himself at the man. Flinging his arms wide, taking in his entire broad frame. The bigger man wrapped his meaty arms around Jack as they slammed backwards.
The wind whooshed out of the man when he hit the floor and his grip on Jack broke. Pushing himself up, he drew back a fist. Raw emotion burned through him. He seized the Amarri by the hair with his free hand, knotting his fingers securely.
"Poke your fun at me, scum, and talk to me without respect, but not my people. When won our freedom from the likes of you and I won't stand by while you defile it with your words." He hammered the man in the face, putting all his strength into the blow.
The man's head snapped to the side and blood gushed out of his split lip. He roared with inarticulate rage, shoving against the floor with hands and legs, trying to dislodge Jack as he drew back to hit the man again. Rough hands wrapped around his arms and face, pulling him off the still raging pilot. Jack struggled against the three men that held him, tearing free of the grip; he turned again to face the leader.
Recovering quickly the Amarri pushed himself to his feet and fisted the haft of a double sided axe used for logging. That explained the man's tremendous strength, he was clearly part of the Wood Cutters Union. Blood dripped down his swelling lips, turning his smile a dark crimson. So much for not drawing first blood, Jack thought, has the Amarri wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked at the bloody smear.
"By the Gods, you little bastard," the big man declared, "Now for that you're going to die!"
Jack watched the man draw the axe back. Blood still poured down his chin from his split lips. The floor around the fight cleared immediately. Even the Amarri's cronies must not have trusted their companion's anger or aim. They released him even as he worked one of his hands free.
He pushed himself back, narrowly avoiding the blade slashing horizontally across his chest. The spiked tip of the axe cut through his shirt and striped him with sudden, burning pain. Warm blood spilled down his chest. His anger melted somewhat then as he gave himself over to survival. In the back of his mind he knew Red and Greeny were making their way to him, that would even the odds, but he needed to do this himself. It was the only way the Amarri was going to learn his people were free, not slaves.
Still off-balance from his release Jack couldn't move quickly enough to attempt closing on the man, who moved at him immediately, drawing the axe back again.
Shouts of, "Get him Vlad!" and "Kill the fucking slave", issued forth from the crowed and his fellows as the man advanced.
Grasping a wooden chair, Jack heaved it up in time to intercept the axe coming down at his head. The blow shattered the chair to splinters in his hands, but gave him the time he needed to spin away. The blade thudded home in the tavern's wooden floor, sending up a spray of sawdust.
"Get him!" Vlad bawled, yanking the axe from the floor. "Hold him and I'll have the head from his shoulders!"
A man leaped on Jack from behind, forcing him forward over a nearby table. The side of his head slammed against the tabletop and scattered classes in all directions.
"Get him now!" the man shrilled in his ear.
By the time Jack got his legs under him properly, the axe was already whistling toward his head. He pulled back with all his strength, slipping under the man's weight. The axe thudded into the table only inches in front of his eyes. There was enough power in the blow to split the tabletop, and splinters dug into his cheek.
Hooking a foot behind the leg of the man holding him, Jack pulled and lunged back at the same time. He went down backward on top of the man in a tangle of arms and legs. Already in motion, he came to his feet in a smooth roll, showing amazing agility for his size. One of Vlad's companions reached for him, whipping a small knife forward.
Jack raised his arm and blocked the knife thrust, catching the man's wrist on his forearm with enough force to crack the small wrist bones. Even as the man cried out in pain, he grabbed a metal serving pitcher from another table and slammed it against his attacker's head with a deep bong. The man's knees buckled and he went down in a heap.
"Are you still willing to die for your peoples honor boy?" Vlad didn't wait for an answer as he stepped across the unconscious body of his friend and unloaded with the axe again.
Jack shifted, shuffling to the side, feeling the wall behind him come into contact with him unexpectedly. He dropped into a crouch with his back to the wall. The axe thudded into the hard wood, wedging in tight. Vlad tugged on the haft, struggling to free his weapon. It came loose, ripping wood from the wall in long splinters.
Gaining the extra room, Jack ripped his metal pole out from the ground to use as a weapon, as he pushed himself up and away from the large man. With a final yank, Vlad pulled the axe from the wall. He saw the pole in Jack's hand, then spread his own hand along the four foot haft of the axe.
He grinned wolfishly, full of confidence.
"I've chopped up bigger slaves than you, boy, and better armed and armored."
A small movement at his side alerted him to the man slipping up on him. He whirled and kicked, blocking the man's swing with a booted foot and whipping metal pole into the man's forehead, stunning him. Even as the man fell away from him, Jack continued his spin, raising the pole to block Vlad's axe blow, sliding it over him, then past.
Sweat, blood, and sawdust covered him as he set himself more properly behind the small weapon. His lungs labored from his exertion and the anger that still filled him.
The Amarri drew back, setting himself with his weapon as well. The axe danced in his hands. The fact that he was missing fingers on his left hand didn't seem to bother him at all. The axe twirled end over end, creating what seemed to be a constant barrier in front of the large warrior. Without warning, it twisted in Vlad's hands, the blade licking out at Jack's throat.
He batted the axe head aside with his metal pole metal rang out in the lounge. Seeking to enlarge on the opening he thought he created, Jack stepped forward. In the close confines, the four foot axe haft could be unwieldy in the hands of most. Vlad was fully aware of his weapons strengths and weaknesses, though, and the big axe-man didn't try to strike with the axe head again. Instead, he slammed the haft into Jack's face.
He had only enough time to turn his head and pull his chin down. The heavy wooden haft, sheathed in steel, connected with his forehead and the ridge of bone over his right eye instead of his nose. Pain thundered into his head, and his vision went white for a moment. His jaw snapped shut.
"Foolish move slave, trying to take a seasoned axe man like that." Vlad crowed in sadistic delight. The axe spun in his hands again as he readied himself to take advantage of his success.
Jack stepped back, quickly and automatically raising the pole to cover his retreat, and stepping so that his good eye was turned more toward his opponent. However, the stance also left him with a shorter reach. He blinked hurriedly, guarding against the pain that assailed him and trying to clear his vision. Double images of the warrior drawing the axe back for another swing dance before him.
Dozens of battles had taught him a thing or two, reading the big man's body movement rather than trying to keep track of the axe. He leaped up, pulling his legs high to avoid the sweeping axe blow, aimed to cut his ankles from under him. When he landed on the floor again, he launched a back-handed swing with his weapon, aiming it at the Amarri's face, guessing the man would step back to avoid it.
Instead, Vlad lifted the end of the axe haft and blocked the swing. Sparks flew from the steel sheath, and the wooden haft held. The big man flicked the pole away, then stepped in and buried the axe haft in Jack's stomach.
Bright comets of pain ignited in his skull as the breath fled his lungs. He was certain the blow broke ribs, and he remained on his feet out of sheer defiance. Vlad closed again, stumbling, surprised, maybe that Jack hadn't fallen. His breath burned hotly on his neck.
"Had enough slave?" The Amarri sneered.
Twisting, keeping his body contact against the large man to keep him off-balance so he couldn't bring either end of the axe back into play, Jack balled up his left fist and smashed it into the man's throat. Vlad stumbled backwards, grabbing for his injured throat with one hand. His breath came in harsh gasps.
"No," The Minmatar grated out. "You're still standing."
He wiped at his injured eye with his free hand, finding some of the blurred vision was caused by blood. He wiped his eye clear on a shirt sleeve; aware that the swelling had already half closed it. Still, he could see better. He lifted the pole and lashed out.
Vlad grabbed the axe with both hands and blocked the blow. Jack, finally on the offensive and warming to the task, pushed the pain away and moved forward confidently. He remained on the attack; deliberately aiming blows that he knew the man could block and had no choice but to do so, beating back any opportunity for offense. The big man held his ground for a moment, wavering, but in the end he was forced back.
Despite Vlad's claim to the tavern crowed at the beginning of the fight, Jack's courage and skill in the face of greater numbers arrayed against him won over the watchers. They howled at him, supporting him.
Jack did not intend on killing the man if he could help it, as much as he wanted to, for the repeated insults to his people. He might get slapped with a fine for the bar fight, but killing him would land him in jail, despite the fact it was self-defense. Senses alert and the combat training drilled into him functioning at their peak with the adrenaline rushing through his body, Jack swept the metal pole forward too fast for Vlad to dodge. At the last second, he turned and the end thumped solidly into the big man's jaw-line.
Stunned, Vlad stumbled back, working hard to keep the axe up.
Before Jack could take advantage of his success, a chair crashed into him, breaking across his back and shoulders. Jack went down to his knees, doubling over on his fiery ribs. He tried to catch his breath and couldn't as he turned to face the Amarri's cohort.
The man tossed the shattered remains of the chair away, then stepped in and kicked Jack in the face.
The man's foot caught him on the chin, snapping his head back. He did not try to fight the force, working to roll with it as much as possible. He gripped the pole in an iron grip, stubbornly hanging onto it. The man came at him again, stamping his feet down at him viciously, snarling curses.
Avoiding the kicks when he could, blocking them with his arms when he couldn't, Jack rolled across the sawdust covered floor under a table. The man reached for the table and ripped it away, spilling glasses and platters over the side.
Jack tasted blood in his mouth, realizing his lips had been split by the kick to his chin. He surged up with the overturned table, setting himself. His opponent hadn't expected him to attack and was caught unprepared. Jack swung the pole, thudding the heavy iron into the man's forehead. The shock of the impact shuddered all long his arm. The man's eyes glazed and his knees buckled. He let out a long breath and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Spotting the movement of the tavern crowed shifting around him, Jack turned as Vlad came toward him. Growling in rage, the big man swept the axe at him.
He lifted the metal pole to his defense, managing to catch the axe for an instant before it slide off. The axe's keen edge sliced across his left arm, slicing his bicep open and sending fresh blood cascading down his arm. It went partially numb at once, and a burning fear raced through him that the axe blow had permanently damaged his arm.
Vlad's power and weight knocked him back from his feet. Unable to use his wounded arm well, Jack fell awkwardly, slamming down on his back across the remnants of a chair. The warrior gave no respite, closing his hands together at the end of the axe and swinging hard. Forcing his wounded arm to work, Jack blocked the descending axe. The impact felt like it tore his shoulder free, and he couldn't hold the axe back. Instead, he turned it aside. The move also cost him the pole, tearing it from his hands. Desperate, every move agony, Jack kicked the man in the crotch as he tried to pull the axe back. Vlad screamed in pain.
Pressing his advantage for all it was worth, Jack slipped his small dagger free from his boot. He twisted, holding the dagger tightly, and then plunged it through Vlad's foot. Sharp and driven forcefully, the keen knife cut through the boot leather and slipped between the bones of the big man's foot. It thudded home solidly in the hardwood floor.
"You Fucking little bastard!" Vlad shouted. He pulled at the axe, bringing it up.
Ignoring the burning pain that filled his body and the salty taste of blood fillings his mouth, Jack forced himself to his feet. He stepped up to the Amarri, seizing the man's left arm in a hold Red had taught him. Moving in close to the big man, holding the arm in a controlling position, Jack pulled with his upper body and twisted at the same time, flipping the man over one shoulder. Vlad left the floor, his foot tearing free of the floor with the dagger still in it.
Jack brought the warrior down hard on the floor, but still Vlad reached for him, he barely slid away. As the big warrior hobbled to a standing position, grabbing dazedly at the dagger impaling his foot, Jack grabbed a broken chair leg from the floor and swung it from his shoulder.
The chair leg crashed into the man's temple with a dulled smack turning his head. Incredibly, the man remained standing for a moment. Jack watched uncertainly, fighting to sip his breath past the broken feeling in his ribs. If the man continued fighting, he wasn't sure he had anything left. Still, he kept his grip on the chair leg, and then the Amarri fell, pitching forward face first onto the floor. Sawdust gusted up when he hit.
Hurting all over, his breath coming in short, painful gasps, Jack Voxxon stood. He surveyed the Lounge, surprised at the destruction that had been wrought. The Amarri's companions were unconscious as well, lying tumbled in the wreckage.
"Jack! That was one hell of a fight brother!" Red said as he caught Jack in his arms saving him from falling face first next to the Amarri.
"We need to get out of here, before Concord shows up and throws you in jail." Greeny stated, as he threw the owner of the lounge a sack full of Isk to pay for damages.
Red and Greeny hoisted him up between them and moved toward the door.
"That was one hell of a show." A tall Amarri stated as he stepped in front of the three companions. "You Prime Industries boys know how to party."
"Look friend, the guy had it coming. Now let us pass, we don't need any more trouble here." Red said fully prepared to knock the guy out if he tried to stop them.
"No doubt Captain, the fool was a dumb ass, you will not hear me say differently. But seems you still owe me a drink." Yashidza smiled
"Captain Yashidza I presume, sorry about this, mind if we take a rain check? Concord will be here shortly, and it would be best if we were gone by then." Red asked.
"Not a problem, actually, I have a small apartment I use when I am conducting business here, let's go there, come on." Yashidza helped them through the door.
Jack Voxxon, passed out as they carried him through the double oaken doors.