Star Harbor Nights

Ray was finding himself back in the Sands of Time far more frequently than he liked. But then, Perfect had told him to follow up on a mystical lead, and truth be told, he only had two really solid contacts in that area. One of them, of course, was the guardian of the Sands, the Seeress herself... but she gave convoluted commands more often than straightforward information. As she'd been the one who'd set him down this path, it was unlikely she'd have anything more to say to him about it.

His other contact was not quite as omnisciently connected as the Seeress, but a good deal less creepy and all around easier to deal with. He was, of course, Johnny Dark. Johnny, the always attentive, always reliable, ever-ready, and ever-present bartender at the Sands of Time Club. Of course, in mentioning these attributes of Johnny's, it's also worth noting that he was not a dark-haired, eye patched, four-armed woman with a nine foot green snake's tail growing out of her waist.

Which meant that, at the moment, he was not the one behind the bar.

"Um, hey..." Ray asked. It had been so long since he'd seen the assistant bartender. What was her name? Marnie? Marianne?

"Marina," she supplied. "What can I get you?"

'I was actually looking for Johnny," he said.

"Johnny's not working today," she said. At Ray's incredulous look, she added, "He can't work here all the time, you know. He's got a life. Possibly several of them."

"I guess not," Ray said. "I never thought about it. What's he do when he's not here?"

"I dunno," Marina said, shrugging. It was actually a kind of graceful, full-body roll that started from her tail and worked its way up to her upper shoulders. "Whatcha need him for, anyway, if it's not just booze?"

"Well... I'm supposed to be poking around the mystical world for something," Ray said. "But honestly, I don't know any way of going about that except telling Johnny what I'm looking for and waiting for him to hear something. That's always worked before when I was working on my own, but now I'm kind of teamed up... and I'm supposed to be the 'mystical expert', when I really don't know shit about this stuff... but I can't really go back and say that. I really need something to go on here."

"Hmm," Marina said. She paused a moment, pursing her lips and tilting her head to the side, then her eye brightened and she said, "Hey... you know what?"

"What?" Ray asked, hopefully.

"You kind of suck," she said with a grin.

"Thanks, you're a load of help," Ray said.

"That's what I'm here for," Marina said. "No, wait, I'm here to pour drinks for paying customers... so, um... bye."

With that, she turned and glided smoothly away to serve a group of bandage-shrouded figures at the other end of the bar. Ray sighed in disgust and turned to leave, vaguely wondering what the odds were that Zeke the Lobster would know anything about the burnings. He was making his way through the crowd when the mention of Johnny by someone with a loud, gruff voice coming back towards the bar stopped him in his tracks.

"Where the hell is Dark?" the voice asked. Ray turned and saw a man wearing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat and a long leather coat leaning over the bar to get in Marina's face. Ray started heading towards them

"...isn't here," Marina responded. She was keeping her voice calm and level, so Ray only heard the end of her response.

"I can see he ain't, that's why I asked where he is. Contract called for the destruction of gargoyles," the man said. "It was not any more particular than that... now, we've got three ex-gargoyles and I've only been paid for two."

"Look, paying on bounties isn't my line," Marina said. "That's Johnny's deal. I just work here, okay?"

"You get him down here, then. I'm not going anywhere until this is settled."

"I wouldn't know how to get a hold of him if I wanted to," Marina said. "It's not like he gave me his cell number."

"Cell number? Don't tell me that pasty faced frog got himself incarcerated just to keep away from me," the man said. "'cause that just won't wash."

"Hey, why don't you leave the lady alone when she's working?" Ray said.

"Why don't you mind your own lookout, friend?" the man replied without giving Ray a glance. "Now, look here, naga... it don't matter one bit how the last gargoyle bought it, whether it was from my guns or being dropped into the middle of a burning church. I did the job, so I get the gold. Got it?"

"I said, leave her alone," Ray said, laying a hand on the man's shoulder. "But if you know something about a church..."

"Boy... I'm giving you to the count of right about now," the man said, whirling around. Though his hands had been on the counter a moment before, and though Ray could see no movement towards his gun belt, he fired as he turned. Through exceptional skill or luck, the barrel of his massive revolver was right in line with Ray's heart when the bullet flew.

They stared at each other for a moment, then both looked down at the wound in Ray's bare chest.

"You shot me," Ray said.

"Yeah, I did a bit... didn't I?" the stranger agreed.

Ray punched him.

The force of the blow sent the gunslinger toppling backwards over the bar, losing him his hat in the process. It was back on his head before he popped back up, firing again into Ray's chest without any more affect. Ray's left hand lanced out and began to pull him back over the bar while his right fist drew back for another blow. The gunslinger was faster, though, slugging Ray in the jaw with his free right hand. He then vaulted over the counter and swung out with his left, popping Ray in the fist with the back of his hand. The added weight from the gun added an appreciable thunk to the blow. Ray's vision swam, but he knew his opponent was only a little bit to his side, so he lashed out blindly with a spin-kick and felt it connect. The stranger crashed into the bar with an audible crack. His hand flew up to steady his hat at the same time that he fired again from the floor.

"You know, that usually hurts more," Ray said, after the bullet passed through him. The stranger was already back up on his feet, squaring off.

"You some kind of fire guy?" his opponent asked.

"Uh... yeah."

"Oh," the gunslinger said. "My mistake."

He fired from a gun that was suddenly in his right hand, and the bullet ripped into Ray's shoulder with a thunderous force that jolted him off his feet. He spun around from the impact, tumbling backwards.

"Ow, shit, that hurts!" Ray yelled. "What the fuck was that?"

"Lightning," the gunslinger replied coolly. He took careful aim and fired another bullet at Ray's leg. This time Ray could actually see the gun barrel crackling with St. Elmo's fire as the hammer was pulled back and heard the thunderclap over the sound of the gun shot. Of course, by the time he heard either, he was already being distracted by the electrified bullet that had hit his leg, so he might not have appreciated the full effect.

"Jesus Christ!" Ray yelled, writhing on the floor.

"Not quite, but a lot of people make that mistake," the gunslinger said. Ray howled, grabbing a nearby chair by its legs and throwing it at the man with supernatural strength, who staggered a bit as it broke against him. The ogre who'd been sitting on the chair did not appreciate being so rudely dumped, and he raised a foot the size of a New York phone book to squash Ray.

"You stay out of this," the gunslinger said, shooting the ogre between the eyes.

"Hey, penises!" Marina shouted. "Can we please not demolish the bar while I'm on duty?"

"Stay out of this!" both men yelled, though only the gunslinger turned to look at her when he said this.

Quick to press that advantage, Ray had got to his feet and lunged at his opponent in a flying tackle which carried them both on top of one of the round black tables, breaking it into kindling. Cards, drinks, and chips of both the potato and poker variety were swept away, to the outrage of the ugly and malformed sentients who'd been sitting there. One of them clubbed the gunfighter on the back of the head with a warty, three-fingered hand, knocking his hat askew. The gunslinger, who'd lost his guns in the tackle, turned and floored the monster with a right hook.

By that point, the brawl was well and truly on... there was no question of keeping it between the two original combatants as the aggrieved card players fell on them, and as fighters and monsters of every description joined in out of general principle, or simply took advantage of the general chaos to take a swipe at somebody who annoyed them.

When it was over, nearly all of the taproom furniture had been demolished. Of course, given the magically accommodating nature of the Sands, that was largely a result of how much the bar had emptied out after the fight reached its greatest intensity. If more patrons had stayed, there would have been more tables left to be smashed. Ray and the gunslinger sat, both bloodied and bruised, on the two remaining bar stools. They were the only ones at the bar, but Marina was standing resolutely at the other end, endlessly polishing the same glass and refusing to acknowledge them.

"So, this team thing you're talking about... there any money in it?" the gunslinger asked Ray. "'cause I don't really do the whole 'selfless hero' thing, in the normal course of things."

"Boy, you're asking the wrong person," Ray said. "But something could probably be worked out."

The gunslinger looked down at the ruins of his silk shirt, his shredded pant legs, and the torn sleeve of his long coat.

"There better at least be a clothing allowance," he said. He glanced over at Ray. "How come your pants didn't get all tore up?"

"They're magic that way," Ray said.

"Magic pants?"

"Hey, you get magic guns, I can have magic pants."

"Fair enough. Didn't catch your name, stranger."

"Ray," Ray said. "Also known as the Fire-Eater. You?"

"Jeroboam," the gunslinger said. "Also known as Jeroboam."