“Lil John, I didn't know she was with you,” I said as he continued pushing through the crowd towards me. I glanced around. I have noticed that you can tell a lot about how a situation is going to play out by observing the reactions of the surrounding non-participants. All conversation had stopped and a space was clearing around me, people at the nearest tables were getting up and stepping back but nobody was actually leaving. So the crowd thought things were going to get violent but no one was going to die. The last part was somewhat reassuring, the first part wasn't. But I'd also seen mob logic go wrong before, so maybe I could still talk my way out of this.
“C'mon, man, I thought you were still with Blondie and whatshername over there never mentioned anything about you,” I tried the innocent approach as Lil John pushed into the growing clearing around me.
“Her name is Meerna. Are you saying it's her fault,” he asked as he stopped about six feet from me. Damn, too far away to land a surprise sucker punch. Nobody ever accused Lil John of being stupid.
“Of course not, just saying that without any physical indications, such as a big sign around her neck, or without her telling me of your involvement, I have no way of knowing that she is unavailable to me. You see my predicament, right? Everyone knows that all of the power lies with the women and unfortunately for me in this situation, it is in their best interest to create as much competition among us men as possible. Therefore, we have just this - “
“Shut up Locki, you've been asking for a beatdown for a long time,” growled Lil John. Something was strange about this. I knew Lil John, we had even been involved in a couple jobs together. Not partners but in on the same deal and things had always gone smoothly. Why was he so gung-ho on dismantling me on such flimsy grounds?
“Ok,” I said. So much for talking my way out of this. Lil John slid his right foot back. I couldn't let him charge me and become engaged in a grappling fight, I'd get clobbered. I took running step and launched myself at him. I planted both feet in his chest. Since I hadn't been able to get much forward momentum there wasn't much force behind it. But really my attack wasn't intended to be damaging. As my feet made contact I bent my knees and then pushed off against Lil John. He was a big guy and this only caused him to stagger back a couple steps. I, on the other hand, flew back far enough that I was able to do a flip and land on my feet about 10 feet away. My hands reached into my sleeves and closed around the hilts of my knives.
“Locki,” Pat bellowed from the bar, “those knives come out and I'm coming over the bar for you.” Shit, I couldn't afford to piss off Pat, I did too much business out of this bar and I had too much fun in this bar and I was just as scared of Pat as Lil John. I pulled my knives out anyway. Lil John's eyes narrowed and a little smile appeared on his lips. But before he (or Pat behind me) could make another move I spun around and slammed my knives down on the bar.
“Pat, can I get a glass of Eire juice,” I asked as innocently as possible. Pat, cricket bat in hand, scowled at me. But before he could formulate a reply I heard Lil John charging towards me. And so much for the indifferent card. Oh well, it seldom worked anyway. I jumped, landed both feet on the bar and back flipped off of it. I landed with a little too much momentum as Lil John crashed into the bar. I continued the extra momentum and rolled over onto one knee to stop directly in front of one Lil John's buddies, I think it was Ringo. He was standing gape-mouthed staring towards the bar. I punched him in the groin using the momentum of my flip and roll. Pivoted on my left knee and got to my feet to face Lil John, just in time to see a bar stool flying at me seat first. I was able to get my hands up to catch the seat but the momentum still slammed me off my feet and flying through the air to land on a table, which collapsed beneath me. As I struggled to get up in a morass of plates, food, glassware and napkins my left hand closed around a butter knife and my right found a fork.
I got to my feet with the knife in its usual position, blade sticking out the back of my fist, elbow slightly bent, arm at my side, solar plexus level. The fork, a weapon i was completely unfamiliar with, jutted out of the top of my right fist, arm locked straight ahead at shoulder level. I looked good.
Lil John was still at the bar, bent over, holding his ribs.
“Lil John, I'm truly sorry, I didn't know she was with you and really nothing happened, I was just spouting at the mouth as usual, consider me warned,” I said. I really wanted this to end. Now. Something just wasn't right.
He looked up and I saw something in his expression...remorse, uncertainty?
Arms wrapped around my shoulders with the force of a vice. In these kind of situations it is amazing how fast and precise your reflexes can become. I flicked my wrist, opened my hand and caught the handle of the butter knife as it flipped around. As I raised the knife to the cheek of my assailant behind me I slammed my head back into his face. His head jerked back as mine slammed into his chin and I felt the blade open his cheek. People don't realize that butter knives can be dangerous, especially if they are serrated. The arms loosened around my shoulders but still had enough of a hold on me to drag me down as, I think it was Paul, fell backwards.
As I struggled to sit up I saw feet pounding towards me from the bar and a boot swinging around to side volley my head. I was able to get my shoulder up to somewhat deflect the kick but it still caught the top of my head and I flew sideways. My vision went brilliant white and stark black. But I was able to roll over onto my back and was somewhat impressed that I still held both the knife and the fork in each hand.
I looked up to see Lil John standing over me. But he wasn't looking at me, he was looking to his right and shaking his head. I followed his gaze to see George staring at me with a wild eyed, scared look as if he wasn't in control of his right hand which was pulling a gun from inside his jacket. A gun! My brain stopped interpreting reality as it repeated “gun”, over and over. What the feck were they doing with a gun? So, it was from a great distance that I heard a soft but clear voice from the bar.
“That's enough,” Sabrina said, “I think he learned his lesson.”
My attention slid back to reality and Lil John towering over me, “Shut up Sabrina, I know he's your little bitch boy, but this is not your concern.”
I was looking in his face as the only reply from the bar was the slight snick of the The Sword's habaki sliding free of the scabbard. His eyes narrowed and then went wide, he glanced right and again shook his head. His fists unclenched and he stepped back a pace... and then another. I rolled over and struggled into a standing position. Staggered over to the bar. “Pat, your establishment is starting to attract some riff-raff, good utensils though,” I said as I dropped the knife and fork on the bar, picked up my knives and slid them into their sheaths.
My head was still ringing and every time my heart beat little white fireworks bloomed across my vision. I stumbled once or twice on the way out but Sabrina held me up with one hand, The Sword still loose in its scabbard in her other. As we crossed the street outside of the Moondrop I fell to my knees and threw up.
“I think we should probably call it a night,” said Sabrina.
“Yeah,” I croaked. What a lousy way to end the night.
Chapter 3: The Aftermath will be posted Saturday, September 22
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