A3Writer: F3 Bar Fight
1001 Nights (4) Abraham (11) Aphrodite (3) Apocalypse (6) Apollo (4) Arabian (4) Artemis (5) Arthur (12) Athena (3) Bard (1) Ben Slater (13) Bible (47) Celtic (2) Character File (2) Chinese (1) Christian (6) Conferences (29) creation myths (15) Criminalelement (11) Dark Winds (22) Demeter (10) Don Iverson (4) Eden (5) Enchanter (16) essay (9) F3 (381) (1) Fairy Tales (14) Family (2) Flood Myth (8) Flynn (72) Greek (60) Guest (1) Hades (10) Hercules (9) Hindu (2) History Prof (22) Holiday (12) Holiday Myths (6) Incan (1) Iranian (2) Japanese (1) Job (21) Knowledge Myths (3) Library (8) Life (121) Love Gods (4) M3 (175) map (13) Matt Allen (121) Medieval (7) Metamyth (5) Misc Flash (36) monthly chart (21) Movies (6) Myth Law (2) Myth Media (4) NaNoWriMo (22) Noah (5) noir (9) Norse (10) Odyssey (7) Persephone (13) Perseus (7) Persian (1) Poseidon (1) Prometheus (5) publishing (24) ramble (113) Review (1) Sam Faraday (30) Samson (14) Sci Fi (15) science (1) Serial (32) short story (14) Spotlight (8) Storm Riders (49) Teaching (136) Tech (18) Transformation (5) Travel (27) TV (10) TV Myth (1) Underworld (6) Vacation (15) vampires (18) W3 (11) WIP (6) Writing (166) Writing Tools (16) Zeus (7)

Friday, October 12, 2012

F3 Bar Fight


The Great Nebula Bar on Antares Station wasn't famous, wasn't that big, nor did it serve particularly good hooch. The 'shine tasted as if distilled through a cooling system, but it got its patrons plenty drunk after a couple of belts. Flynn worked on his second, trying to decide if the taste and future hangover were worth the intoxication, when a meaty paw grabbed his shoulder.
"You're that guy," the man belched degreasing solvent fumes—otherwise known as a Saturn Sidecar—in Flynn's face.

Flynn shrugged him off. "Don't know what you're talking about, pal. Move on."
"Naw, I seen you in the pulse. You're that stinking Tra—"
Flynn smashed his glass into the man's head, then followed it up by sweeping the man's leg and pushing him to the floor. Only then did Flynn see the man's five friends rise from a table to come at him.
By the stars. When are you going to think before you slug the first moron? He chided himself.
They advanced slowly, pulling out stun knuckles and homemade knives. So much for the station's weapons detectors.
The man Flynn had knocked down struggled to get back up. The situation was already too far gone for diplomacy, so Flynn didn't bother. He stomped on the man's solar plexus, then delivered a throat gouge. It wouldn't knock the man out, but he was out of the fight for several minutes.
The bartender hit the alarm, so station security would be coming fast. Maybe I can avoid this and just spend a night in the brig.
The men advancing on him smiled.
Strings! Security is not coming.
A polymer cue stick smashed in the back of one of the men, and Carrie Montgomery didn't stop there as she assaulted the men. Flynn took advantage of the now surprised men to kick one in the shin before almost breaking his hand on the man's jaw.
Carrie tossed the men like sandbags at a gunnery range. "You okay, Captain?"
"Fine, Eltie. Let's wrap this up before security gets off their coffee break."
"Yes, sir." The woman snapped to a proper salute, using her elbow to pop another in the nose.
Always bring a marine to a bar fight.

No comments: