Greyhawk and John stopped just outside a bar. They could hear loud music mixed with the voices of people laughing and talking. Lining the parking area out front was a collection of large motorcycles.
The men looked at each other and nodded. They took out their hand phasors and walked inside.
The two men entered the bar and stopped just inside the threshold. The place was crowded with big guys wearing motorcycle leathers, and rough looking women wearing pretty much the same. There was a bar on the left and a pool table in the center of the room. The band was located at the far end with a little dance floor before it. Booths ringed the place and tables were scattered about.
It didn't take long before the music stopped and everyone was silent, looking at the newcomers.
A man at the pool table, with his back to the door, was about to take a shot when everything went quiet. It took a few beats, but he noticed and turned to see what was going on.
"Hey," he laughed, "what have we got here? Tinker Bell and his friend Fairy?" Five other men surrounding the table snickered along with him.
John looked at Greyhawk. "You think he's referring to us?"
Greyhawk pulled a sober face. "I dunt know," he answered gravely, "Maybe he thinks we're dressed funny."
John pursed his lips and thought this over for a second. "Well, I'll ask him. Hey, buddy, do you think we're dressed funny?" John liked the direct approach to problems.
"Yeah, I think you're dressed funny. And I think you guys are fairies. And this is a fairy-free zone," he laughed out loud, and his pool buddies laughed with him. The bartender reached behind the counter and came up with a shot gun.
"You think we should dress like you, huh? Maybe we wouldn't look like fairies then." John's eyes gleamed with happy belligerence.
"Yeah, that would work. You go out and get some clothes like me and then maybe we'll let you back in here. Now go. Scoot!" All the pool players howled and punched each other.
"You tell 'em, Bennie," his friends chimed in as they laughed. Bennie grinned, showing off his disdain of dental hygiene.
Greyhawk said sadly, "But we're clean out of cash, lad." Noises of mock sympathy from the direction of the pool players. Greyhawk made sizing-up gestures towards Bennie. "Now, you look tae be about ma friend's size, so maybe we'll just take your clothes. What d'ye think, John?"
"Sounds about right. And that guy behind him looks about your size, you like what he's wearing?" John rocked lightly on his toes, loosening up.
"Nah ..." Greyhawk shook his head. He pointed at another man. "That fella there, now, he's got some class."
The snooker mob was gasping. "You think you're going to take our clothes?" Bennie said. "You fairies think you're big enough to take this whole place?"
John looked around. Then he shook his head. "Nope." John and Greyhawk opened up with their phasors on stun, and quickly laid down everyone but the six at the pool table. Greyhawk was careful to take down the bartender first.
John turned to the astonished Bennie and said, "Nope, just you six."
"Six?" Bennie said incredulously. Some of his buddies gaped at the unconscious bodies slumped around them.
John turned to Greyhawk. "You think I should have left more?"
"Nae, six should be about right." The Engineer flashed an evil grin.
Bennie approached John, pool stick in hand. His friends moved in closer right behind him. John, in a move almost invisible to the eye, grabbed the pool stick from Bennie's hand, twirled it a few times above his head, then brought it down in a crouching "en garde". Bennie stood confused for a moment, then rushed John. John neatly sidestepped and as Bennie passed him, John hit him cleanly across the back of the head, knocking the man cold.
Greyhawk stepped into the path of the next man and in one swift motion relieved him of his stick and knocked him cold.
Greyhawk and John now stood back to back as the remaining four rushed them. Both Greyhawk and John, masters of the art of Ken-Po, had little trouble parrying the clumsy efforts of the drunk bikers. And before long, all four lay in a heap around them.
The men stood and looked around at the now silent bar.
"Well, let's do it." The men exchanged clothes with their size and weight counterparts, and stood admiring each other.
"Hey, you look pretty tough," John chuckled.
"Och, I am pretty tough. This outfit smells tough too. D'ye think ye can drive one of those bikes?" Greyhawk jerked his head towards the parking lot.
"I think I can handle it."
"OK, let's go."
"Hold on a minute," John said. He walked over the bar, and reached behind it. He brought up the owner's nickel plated, pump action shot gun. "We may need this."
"Maybe you will, lad," Greyhawk said. "I'm dangerous all by myself."
(to be continued ...)
Next episode here
Previous episode here
All previous episodes here
