[Jack_Spade]

"Cheer up", said Molly. "It's not always bad. We need the money and it doesn't become a better job if only amoral scumbags visit us. Come on Thorn. Al needs to lie down now if the massage is to have any effect."
Not even Thorn could discern if that was her honest opinion, a lie to not get into trouble with management or maybe a lie she had to tell herself. But he did follow her out of the tub and towards one of the adjoined rooms further down the hall.
He managed to call out: "See you later upstairs at the bar..." before the door closed.

[adamu]

Al tried to throw Thorn a salute, but found his arm virtually incapacitated by Katja's ministrations.Resigned to his fate, he let himself go slack and was just getting relaxed when she slapped him on the shoulder and said, "All right hon, up on the massage table."

But the water felt too good. "Toots, gon' take more'n you an' an army o' lovelies ta get ol' Al outta this here tub. What say we jist chill right here?"

"Sorry, sweetie, but if I stop halfway through you'll be left all stiff. And you've got to lie face down for this next part. Just a few minutes. Then I'll warm you up any way you like."

Al turned to face her. It was the first time he'd seen her since she'd stepped around behind him, and now instead of the kimono she was wearing exactly nothing at all. Not even a strand of hair below her eyelashes, and the steam condensed on her milky flesh gave it a sheen that could have melted the heart of a monk. And Al was no monk. This wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought.

"Tell ya what, toots, I'll just assume the position right here inna pool. An' when I can't hold my breath no more, we'll head up ta yer little table there."

"You can hold your breath for five minutes?"

"Considerable longer'n that hon. Used ta be a diver by trade. You jist to yer Japanese-y muscle an' nerve thing, an' leave the breath holdin' ta ol' Al."

And with that he laid himself out face down on the water, spreading his arms just right to stay afloat. Of course, the air in his tank provided the ballast needed to hold position - he grinned as he added 'impressing gullible whores' to the long list of uses he'd found for his internal air system.

[adamu]

After a few more minutes of muscle torture, Katja tentatively tapped Al on the shoulder, half afraid he'd simply passed out.

But he rolled over onto his back like an otter, clearly an accomplished swimmer, and gave her a grin. Damn she looked good.

"So when's the payoff?" he asked, and she reached for him, and he added, "Thorn said that there barbarity y'all call a mass-age is all worth it in the end. So? When's that?"

She stopped her forward motion and smiled, gesturing him out of the pool. They stood on the deck naked and steaming as she ran him through a quick sequence of stretches and gyrations, and damned if he didn't feel ten times better and half an inch taller.

"Girl, ya done good work. Reckon I'd better give ya somethin' in return."

She nodded in acknowledgement and knelt in front of him, at which point he said, "Y'all got any cards? I always carry a pack, but they's all locked up with Thorny's stuff."

The girl was a bit taken aback. Al couldn't tell if she was offended, relieved, or just confused. "Yeah, I have some up in my room. We could go there. I only know how to play rummy, though."

"Well, heh heh, strip poker's clearly beside the point now, ain't it? Naw, been workin' on this thing Erdnase called the Invisible Flight. An' I think ol' Al's finally ready fer an audience."

[adamu]

Al had been astonishing and amazing Katja for something over an hour when his clothes arrived with a discreet knock at her door.

He was delighted that the Invisible Flight had gone off without a hitch, and had moved on to some other sleights and manipulations he'd been playing around with. Stuff he wasn't really ready for yet, but when he screwed up she laughed, and the effect of that on her bosoms was downright mystical. However noble he had decided to be for the evening, he'd made no suggestion they get dressed. He was Christian, not stupid.

But the clothes seemed like a nice way of saying her time was no longer his, and after checking everything was where it should be he pulled on his tatty boxers, yellowing T-shirt, mud-soaked khaki fatigue trousers, freshly dried wool socks, black Docs, and his pa's jacket.

Katja put on a purple thong and matching brassiere and took his arm. She never said anything about what had or hadn't happened. He hoped she got paid the same either way. And he doubted he was unique or that she was particulary impressed. There was no shortage of deluded fools that figured one night of restraint would somehow win them the undying off-site love of some nubile young thing way out of his league. And that was probably what she thought he was. He could live with that.

At the top of the stairs, she just said, "Thank you for a wonderful time," drenched with an unspoken plea for him to return soon, laden with the implication that he was somehow one of a kind. She said it so well he knew she'd rehearsed it, polished it, made it a part of her. A half dozen times a shift. And he could live with that, too. Had to respect anyone that good at what they did.

He disengaged his arm, said, "Reckon I can find my way from here, toots," and head down to the bar.

[Jack_Spade]

Thorn reappeared about an hour later. He somehow had found a clean training outfit and had a bottle of cold water in his hands.
"I hope you had a relaxing time. Sorry to put a damper on your mood like that. Molly chewed me out for that. Doesn't do any good for the moral around here." He waved away the barkeeper, shaking his head: "Thanks Garry, but I'll stick to water for the rest of the evening. Got to be fit in the morning."
"Anyway, at the very least you get my employee discount...

And don't turn now, but I think there just entered two gentleman who have a distinct Italian look about them..."

[adamu]

Al didn't turn around. "Well, less'n they's workin' fer a partickalar guy, probably not an issue. They's this one asshole named Arty got a mad-on fer ol' Al, but it's personal at this point. Rest of the family stayin' out of it."

But the mirror behind the bar showed two familiar faces approaching. Both wore magenta silk neckties. As luck would have it.

He knew from experience what pussies they were, so a clear view of his back might prove too much temptation for them. He swivelled 180 degrees on his stool to greet them.

"Gentlemen! What's it been, two, three months? And we never had a celebratory drink at the conclusion of our little peace talks."

They pulled up short when he turned, flinching just slightly. Eager as they'd been, the prospect of a straight fight was apparently less appealing. They said nothing as they tried to think of what they should do next.

Al took the opportunity to continue. "Shame Arty hisself ain't here, as I'm sure he'd love ta wet his whistle with us as well. Seal our deal, so ta speak."

That provoked it. "We heard you was alive, Guthrie, so there ain't no fuckin' deal."

Al motioned for more drinks. A new bottle of water for Thorn, another beer for himself, and some Roy Rogers for the Twins.

"Ya ever watch old Westerns? Ya ever hear the judge sentence some cattle rustler ta 'hang by the neck until dead'? Well there's a reason they come ta say that. Seems they used ta just sentence 'em ta hang. Then some clever feller's would starve theyselves before the execution date, an' they necks wouldn't snap, nor would they be heavy enough ta choke. So they had ta let 'em go. Judges smartened up some, an' added the 'till dead' clause." He studied their faces. "Are ya puttin' two an' two together on this? Well, I ain't makin' it no easier'n that. Enjoy yer drinks, say hello ta Arty, an' don't think o' further disturbin' the tranquility o' this place. These folks is my friends, an' this here be neutral ground."

[Jack_Spade]

The smarter one of the two looked towards the door where they just had passed a 250kg heavy troll in black and white clown make-up.

"You are going down Guthrie. This whorehouse won't stand a chance if we call in Arthy and the boys. And if you try to slip away... well we now know you have friends here..."

That was as far as he got, because Thorn had grabbed the bottle of water and lobbed it with remarkable accuracy at the talkers head.
"Now you are in for the drain boys..."


I suggest we each control each others opponent.

Professional Rating 1 Lieutenants should suffice for this exercise:
B A R S W L I C ESS
4 4 3 4 3 2 3 3 6
Initiative 8 + 1D6
Condition Monitor 10
Limits Physical 6, Mental 4, Social 5
Armor 12
Skills Blades 3, Etiquette (Street) 4 (+2),
Intimidation 4, Leadership 1, Pistols (Semi-
Automatics) 3 (+2), Thrown Weapons 2,
Unarmed Combat (Cyberimplants) 3 (+2)
Qualities Toughness
Augmentations Retractable spur [Acc 6, DV 7P, AP –2]
Gear Armor jacket [12]
Browning Ultra-Power [Heavy Pistol, Acc 5
(6), DV 8P, AP –1, SA, RC —, 10 (c)]
Knife [Blade, Acc 5, Reach —, DV 5P, AP –1]
Sony Emperor commlink (Device Rating 2)
1 dose of cram or jazz (p. 411)

[adamu]

Much as Al had wanted to clean these guys' clocks, he'd dutifully kept things civil out of respect for his hosts. But apparently the threat to the establishment's employees crossed a line for Thorn.

And once his new friend opened that door, Al was all too happy to waltz through it.

The little man threw himself off his barstool towards the other mafioso, a wild haymaker leading the way.

[Jack_Spade]

Thorn didn't waste any time: Like a compressed spring he catapulted himself away from the bar and towards the guy he just had flung a full 1 l glass bottle of Ireland's best spring water at. He aimed low for the guys crotch - mainly because he was unarmored and didn't even carry his gloves, so a bit more punch was what he needed now.

Al's opponent tried to dodge the small man's attack - unsuccessfully. But although the hit connected with textbook precision, the larger man only staggered two steps back, a wild grin on his face as he suddenly extended a cyber spur from his forearm and lunged at Al.
The strike only managed to tear a rip into Al's clothing, but now the game had changed.
Deadly weapons were drawn and now it was time for Thunderdome...

[adamu]

Al was pretty annoyed - he'd planned to milk that shirt for another month or so of life.

He breathed the names of Ghede and Samedi and drove one brutal punch after another into the punk's gut, even as he watched the other one crumple into a heap after Thorn went for his balls.

[Jack_Spade]

Thorn gave the man one last kick against the head to make him lie still. He watched Al move and without wanting to distract him or taking fun away from him he said: "Seems to me the perfect time to show of your five-finger-exploding-heart technique after all.

But although Al managed to get a nice combination going, the other man managed to stagger away from the first punch and took the second one to the stomach with rather more grace than Thorn would have expected of him. Still, the man was winded now and Al was in position to hit him again with another volley of strikes.

[adamu]

But he didn't.

Pausing to catch his breath, he smiled at Thorn and explained, "'Ceptin' I done sworn only ta use my prodigious powers fer the forces o' justice an' light. An' he don't rate that high."

Then, noting that the man was still standing, spur out and catching his breath, Al picked up the bar stool he'd been sitting on and leaned in to address the fellow, kindness and reason in his voice. "Son, think o' yer friend onna floor there. You git laid out too, these fine folks gon' take ya both down to the incinerator inna basement. Or you can walk outta here now, take him with ya, an' Arty'll give ya a fat bonus fer findin' me. Your call, tough guy."

[Jack_Spade]

One look into Al's eyes and another one at the troll with full clown make up that had just entered convinced the man to retrieve the spur, grab his friend and to drag him out of the bar as fast as he could manage.
He didn't utter a single word, panting only from pain and exertion, but Al sure could see the hatred in his eyes.

Thorn nodded towards the troll and made a hand gesture that contained "see that they get lost". He also made a second gesture towards the retreating mafioso - that one wasn't nearly as polite.

"Are you ok Al? Seems like we got it all - Wine, women and song - if you can count the wailing sound those to made."

[adamu]

Al silently congratulated himself on his magnanimity and mercy towards two men that had tortured him nearly to death barely three months earlier.

But here this young pup had to ask him if he was okay. Age.

"Yeah, this been a hootenanny an' a half. An' ol' Al thanks ya kindly. But would seem I done worn out my welcome. Those two'll be back, an' they won't be alone. Sooner I get outta here, less chance Ms. Chau will have an Eye-talian problem on her hands."

He put the bar stool down and picked up the beer he'd left on the counter. Drained it and smacked the stein down with a glassy clack.

"You stayin', or ya want a ride back?"

[Jack_Spade]

"Time for some shut-eye and all in all I think it's best to stay tonight at the tribe - especially since my bike is still back there.
So let's ride."
Thorn picked up the bottle or what was left of it and dumped it into the trash. After retrieving his gear from the locker he followed Al to his car.