It's Five O'Clock Somewhere

Cast: Alexander Jennings, Nefertari Iallu, Dutch Steiner
Premise: One Half Drinking. One Measure Swords. Two Measures Guns. A Dash of Hocus Pocus. Mix and serve chilled.

rating: +1+x

CHAPTER 1: It's Five O'Clock Somewhere

The atmosphere of the tavern is cozy with the low din of conversation and soft lighting offered by candles upon each table, sure to be lit in the evening, and heavy iron chandeliers hanging from the girders that can be seen overhead supporting the high-arched ceiling. The hardwood floor is well worn, reflecting the light as well to diffuse it further and set the entire room to glowing. At the far end of the room is a polished granite bar, several padded stools showing marks from years of use, though they're kept clean, the wood polished to a soft gleam. Many different taps show multi-colored logos from a number of varied breweries. Patrons will not suffer for choice.
There are several tables and booths providing a place for conversation and a good meal. Upon each table, there also rests a small, simple glass vase holding one white lily and one red rose. There are two large windows to either side of a fireplace that overlook the street at the other side of the pub from the bar, colorful stained glass in an oval atop each block of them. In between and before the fireplace, there's a table with three chairs made specifically to enjoy the warmth of the fireplace when the nights get cooler.
Resting above in the thick wooden rafters of the ceiling are various empty liquor bottles from bygone eras and a number of medieval looking weapons - halbards, maces, morningstars and the like. Dulled by age, but impressive, nonetheless. Upon the walls there are pictures of the Irish countryside and various photographs of locations around Ireland, both urban and rural, in black and white or sepia.
There is a door behind the bar that leads to a back room, a sign with "Private - Staff Only" hanging upon it. Stairs at the end of the bar apparently lead the way downstairs to where the restrooms are located. The kitchen is at the other side of the pub from the bar, behind a swinging, part wood, part frosted glass door. It sounds like it's just about constantly busy back there when the place is open, servers moving through the patrons to drop off steaming plates of traditional Irish and other accepted pub fare. The deserts that come out of that kitchen are equally as impressive. One might come here for a good drink or two (or more), but it's also possible to have a very good meal while you're at it.

It's mid-day so the majority of people in the pub are the sorts whom are: A) Alcoholics or B) Alcoholics looking for lunch. That is to say the pub caters to a variety of individuals and nationalities whom are popping in all night. Besides the booze is better here than at the Drinking Hole if not a bit more expensive. A lone bartender tends bar, wiping down the bar and looking about with pursed lips as he monitors the capacities of his patrons' glasses.

Dutch doesn't seem to have any compunctions about joining the alcoholic 'rush.' Not that they rush anywhere. They're all champion sitters, and Dutch is no exception. He's hunched comfortably over his beer, facing the door just in case.

So its likely that the sound of the door slamming open accompanied by the click fall of boots is likely to upset a few of the more professional sitters as Lieutenant Jennings hurries into the pub.
The man spares nary a glance behind him as he moves to the door and plops down at an out of the way table in the corner. He begins watching the entrance … intently.

"A very persistent man … a Kraut unless I miss my guess.", Jennings intones, his demeanor cool as Dutch speaks up from the bar. "He has been following me for the past few days and I saw him on the street. I figured I might duck in here to verify my supposition." He purses his lips, looking Dutch up and down. "For now lets not be too hasty, hmm?". The barman moves over and sets down some gin on Jennings' table which he downs rather quickly to steel his nerves. Apparently he's a bit of a regular himself.

Dutch gives a grunt that does little more than signify that he has heard what Jennings had to say. He sips his beer and buttons up his jacket again. "Yeah, nothin' a Limey flyboy can't handle, huh?" he replies.

Jennings for his part is temporarily distracted as the waiter comes over to refill his gin. He puts some money down, frowning as he pulls out some pound notes and slides them. It's then that he looks up only to see the flash of his followers gray trench coat. He looks around a little but seems to dismiss it as nothing.
Herr Sneaky shifts his eyes amongst the patrons, looking again for something in particular. He rudely brushes off the bartender whom moves to fill his order. His gaze seems to be approaching the table the young officer is currently occupying.

Time for Dutch to unbutton his jacket again. That he does, and then slips a hand inside, under his arm where he clearly has a pistol in a shoulder holster. "Hold it, Heinrich," he grumbles. His face doesn't show any particular expression, but he looks more than ready to plug the blond man in the pub.

The door opens and shuts again, this time showing a tiny dark-haired, honey-skinned young woman with large golden eyes lined in khol. She pauses, straightening her blouse before striding towards the bar. Her dialated pupils are trying to soak in as much as possible in the much darker setting she's now in.

The Kraut shifts his gaze over to Dutch, hesitating in his search as he eventually does spot the young officer sitting at the table. There's hesitation before blue eyes are shifting over to Dutch with a surprised expression. "Can I help you, Amerikaner?", asks, Heinrich. "How did you know my name was Heinrich?". The man's eyes dip down to Dutch's jacket before coming back up to his face. There's certainly some activity under the trench coat though one might not know whether it is threatening.
The young officer for his part looks up towards Dutch as he speaks up, his slipping silently towards the rapier hanging from the scabbard at his belt. For now he waits to watch the developments, licking his lips and polishing off the contents of his glass.

"No, you can't help me," Dutch asserts, standing up. "But maybe I can help /you/. I like to help people. Whaddya want?" he demands. "Whaddya luggin' that iron around for?"

Woah now. Hand flitting to her amulet, Nefertari freezes as she spots the two gun-toting men and then turns to Jennings. She hurries out of the way and behind the leftenant. "Alex," she whispers, eyes wide. "What the devil is going on?"

The Kraut stares at Dutch for a long while before a smile breaks onto his face. One hand comes forth from the coat … empty. "What do you mean iron, Mein Herr? I am here just for a drink.", the man explains with an uneasy chuckle. It's then that he catches Jennings out of the corner of his eye, apparently ready to spring.
It's then that the barrel of a C96 pops out of the trench coat of the man, a burst of rounds that are not necessarily aimed, emitting forth from the gun in the direction of the young officer and now Nefertari whom stand perilously close to their intended target.
"The Devil if I know … he's been follow-", Jennings explains as he is all tensed and ready to move should things go down. It's a good thing too that he is as turns back in time to notice the C96 begin to burp outs its rounds at the pair. He moves, launching himself not at the assailant but Nefertari, racing the bullets with a stifled curse.

Something makes the Egyptian girl keep her attention on the German and her hand on the ancient amulet at her throat. So when the C96 sprouts into view she gasps, dropping low at the same time Alex launches to tackle her down. Somehow… Something happens. The gold amulet at her neck glows with an amber light and her body just… takes over. She drops out of the way, pulling Alex with her as she spins behind another table and actually -shields- Jennings with her own frame.

The young officer seems a little surprised at first as his daring action actually has Tari pulling him out of the path of the bullets that ping past him and imbed themselves in the walls, mercifully missing both the pair and other patrons. There's the sound of a rapier being loosed from its scabbard, audible only after a serving waitress lets out a scream. Jennings looks right upset. Not only did the man just try to kill him but he came close to killing Ter … well no he didn't come close but he might have! "Alright. This bloke has gone and done it … shooting up a pub!", Jennings protests, breaking free as soon as he can from Tari's shielding efforts.

When the German's gun comes out, Dutch's doesn't have much lag. Unfortunately, his quickdraw is not matched by his aim and all he succeeds in doing is crimping the Kraut's style. This makes Dutch look distinctly unhappy. At least he doesn't end up shooting Jennings or the girl. If he even cares about that.

The Kraut is quick even if his impulsive action ends up only blowing the opportunity to take Jennings by surprise, avoiding being shot. Holes show through the Kraut's trench coat where the slugs missed their mark. "Scheisse!", the German curses, as he nearly ends up with a few extra ounces of lead in him. As patrons scatter the Kraut moves towards a table of his own, overturning it and coming up over it. This time thought C96 swings in Dutch's direction. BURP BURP BURP!

The first couple of booms sound unaccompanied, but the third one is closely followed by a soft sound of bullet tearing clothes and a /little/ flesh. "YOU'RE DEAD!" The slightly less Kraut-y Kraut is roaring. Teeth bared, Dutch brings up his gun again.

Nefertari's necklace slowly softens in intensity before she realizes that Alex is not underneath her anymore… And that his sword is drawn. "What the…" Her words are cut off as something once again takes over. Her eyes suddenly take on a very old, wise and kind expression, her voice becomes ageless and even more exotically accented.

"Alexanderrr," she purrs in a voice commanding enough to undercut all the modern racket. "Alexanderrr, wait! He only has one shot left! THEN strike! You will succeed."

That's the best thing about these sorts of things … the bad guys always have less ammunition than the good guys do! There's the sound of another shot and a scream as someone wanders too close to the table that the Kraut is hiding behind. A couple of Dutch's shots ring off the table as well, causing the German to emit another profanity. The man works on loading more ammunition into his weapon.
All the while the smell of sulfur hangs up in the air, women are quietly sobbing behind whatever cover is available, and everyone with half a brain has already left the scene.

Roight. Well then … that's handy. Every young RAF officer should have a beautiful amazon fortune teller at their disposal! For good luck the officer leans over and gives Tari a quick peck before he hurdles over the table at a sprint, rushing to beat the Kraut reloading. The blade in his hands gleams in his eyes and his breath comes out in well-practiced huffs of youth. It isn't long until he rounds the table and comes face to face with the Kraut whom sits with his back to the table.
The Kraut is nearly finished reloading his weapon, leveling the C96 point-blank at the young officer and attempting to ready a round into the chamber.

The rapier comes up expertly aimed at the Kraut's shoulder quite effectively pinning the Kraut to the table. The C96 in his hand rattles to the ground while the Kraut screams furiously at Jennings in a smattering of Kraut curses.

Even with Jennings here conceivably in his line of fire, there's no question for Dutch as to what to do next. He's bleeding. He has proclaimed Heinrich dead. So since he still has bullets, he's still shooting.

The bullets from Dutch's gun blow through the cover provided by the table, planting themselves neatly in the Kraut's back. The cursing is quickly silenced and a bit of blood starts to pool out of the man's mouth. A second smaller, holdout pistol clatters to the ground from the man's other hand at Jennings' feet. "Tricky bugger.", the young officer remarks, removing his sword and cleaning it on a nearby table-cloth. "Good shooting, mate.", the officer remarks to Dutch. "Though not terribly necessarily … I fear we won't find out whom he was working for." His exhales and shifts a glance back to Tari.

Tari's "transformed" face smiles begnignly as she is smooched, and she waits until all is settled before she rises and crosses over. "I suppose," she says in that same eerily exotic voice, "that I could ask the gods to explain who this assassin is. We must make sure that his soul never reaches the Underworld."

She stands like a Queen besides Alexander, hand still lingering on the glowing amulet at her throat.

"Goddamn punks, shootin' at women," Dutch mutters disgustedly. "They got any doctors around here who ain't butchers?" he wonders, looking down at the light wound again.

"Well that's bloody useless … no papers. Just some of money and ammunition.", Jennings remarks with a sigh standing up and shaking his head. He looks over to Tari, motioning to the unfortunate chap. "He's been following me for a week and he's a Kraut. Afraid that's all that I know about him." His eyes shift over to Dutch as he fetches up a bottle of liquor and a table cloth. "Best we disinfect it and bind it, mate."

Tari just looks at Alexander with infinite patience, sighs as if at a child, and smiles affectionately. She pats his cheek and moves to sit at a table. There's an empty bowl and a glass of water. Patiently, the Egyptian cleans the bowl and then pours the water into it. She then begins to chant in a beautiful, ancient tongue, and the glow of the amulet changes from amber to brilliant gold.

Out of nowhere a low, throbbing voice rumbles back in quiet response. It is ageless and genderless, but the voice pulses with deep mystical power long absent from the modern world. Tari leans foreward as the surface of the water begins to ripple and swirl.

"I'll take the cash," Dutch states generously, looking down at his front and lifting the good hand to unbutton his shirt somewhat. "Yeah, okay," he agrees. Perhaps it is not his first amateur surgery. "Don't think the slug's in me, so it shouldn't be too tough." Hs lips nearly disappear as he starts to shrug his left arm out of his shirt. However, he stops after a moment to look to Nefertari. He opens his mouth to say something to her, but she looks pretty busy, so he shuts it again and pulls his arm out of his shirt. Then he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights up.

The voice comes back in the same low, throbbing tone initially and then comes back as something … different. "The British have dispatched one of theirs, Hans.", comes an older voice, most distinctly German. "The Koreans think they are playing games with this race of theirs … they've only opened up a backdoor to allow every government to send their cronies in. We must not let Excelsior be compromised." The bowl on the table shows the forms of two men speaking to one another, the second obscured by the form of our now dead Kraut in his trench coat, Hans. Hans for his part nods simply with a grunt. "Jawhol, Herr Stumbanfuhrer. We will find them all … starting with this Leutenant." The image in the bowl begins to fade.
Jennings for his part stands there with his mouth hanging open, the bottle that pours alcohol onto Dutch's wound left tipped far too long such that it floods with what must be a particularly wonderful feeling.

"Watch it," Dutch growls when he's had enough delicious alcohol poured into his open wound. He doesn't bother to look at Jennings, though. He's narrowing his eyes at Nefertari. "What's with the ventriloquist act?"

All of the sudden, the image whirls and vanishes, and Nefertari gasps as if exhausted. The glowing jewelry fades and the woman's face slowly returns to normal. She looks tired. Very, very tired. She looks back at Jennings and slowly lifts her hand. "I, ehm, Alex?" she says groggily, her voice and accent once more the clipped tones of the Oxford intelligensia. "I'm tired. I'm going to take a taxi home… Will you come see me after you're done here? Spare key's in the same place. Just let yourself in… Don't be too long?" She allows a note of concern to colour her voice.

"That's my girl.", Jennings remarks finally, sucking down a healthy portion of the bottle and handing it over to Dutch, moments after Nefertari goes to catch that cab. He looks aside to Dutch and begins binding his arm, "Thanks for your help, mate. I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Lieutenant Alexander Jennings … Her Majesty's Royal Air Force." He ties the makeshift tourniquet and nods at his handiwork. "That should keep for now."

"Name's Dutch," the gangster mutters around his cigarette. "And it looks like you better go catch your girlfriend. Think she started talkin' to herself…" He looks down at the bandage Jennings tied, frowning. He shrugs back into his shirtsleeve. "See ya round."

"Right you are … ", Jennings remarks with a shake of his head. His eyes look about at all the damaged caused before ambling over to the bar and throwing down whatever is on his person. It's a considerable amount. "That should cover it." He moves to the door and is soon on the street, hailing a cab. Blood continues to pool from Hans' feet and onto the floor.

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