From: friedman@adena.cis.ohio-state.edu (Mark "Crimson" Friedman)
Subject: Deuces and One-Eyed Jacks [4/?]
Organization: NAIVE - New And Improved Virtual Environment
Date: Sun, 6 Sep 1992 18:59:46 GMT

	"Get up, dammit!" Blackjack shouted, "GET THE FUCK UP!" He
started to take a step forward, only to be held back by a pink plastic
arm.

	"No," Ratz said, "now you will stop this."

	Blackjack paused to look at Ratz, anger flaring on his dirty
features.  The musician's aggression drained, though, as he saw the
sadly serious expression on Ratz' face, and the wide-bore shotgun that
the bartender carried in his meat hand.

	Ratz nodded. Dorcas, the waitress, moved up to help Freddy to
his feet. Together, the two of them staggered off to Chatsubo's back
room, Freddy leaning heavily on Dorcas' shoulder.

	|	|	|	|	|	|	|	|

	"He's really not like that."  Dorcas gently dabbed a damp
cloth over the abrasions on Freddy's forehead.

	"Yeah, right."  He spit an unsettling volume of blood into the
trashcan beside his chair.  "He sure is good at it for a first timer,
then."

	Dorcas frowned, "He's been under a lot of stress lately.  He's
looking for someone..."

	"Yeah, yeah, ain't we all.  Then again, most of us don't go
beating the crap out of other people because of it.  I should sue his
ass, eh?"  He picked up his battle-damaged bass.  "I don't care that
much for my dental work, but the fucker's gotta pay for what he did to
my axe."  He tried to tune it, but three of the heads were bent out of
shape.  "Looks like I'll be playing Stick for a while..."  He dropped
his head as if saying a prayer for a departed loved one.

	She lifted the instrument out of his limp hands and set it
aside.  "Interesting graphics...", she ran her hand along the surface
as she examined the holo-pics on it.  The body of the bass depicted
the head of a hooded Humanis or Klan member (she wasn't sure which).
Around his neck was a noose of thick rope.  This rope trailed upwards
and continued along the neck of the instrument, so that it appeared
that the musician was gripping the noose when he played it.

	"Heh," he spit blood again and chuckled, "I have this thing
for racists.  Killed me parents, ya see..."  He grinned wryly.

	Dorcas gasped softly, "Oh, I'm sorry..."

	"Oh, no, it's okay.  Happened a long time ago.  They were
race-rights activists.  Dangerous hobby these days..."

	She nodded, understanding completely, "It certainly is."  She
wrung out the cloth and applied some antiseptic to it.  "This is going
to sting a bit..."

	He clinched his teeth.  "Owie."  He looked her in the eye when
she had finished.  "So, what *is* the scoop on this Blackjack
character, eh?"

	"Well," she pulled up a chair in front of his and sat down,
crossing her legs, "he used to be the house musician in the Chatsubo.
After he started working here, he eventually developed this 'thing',"
she winked, "for this cat-girl named Nekoko, who was waiting tables.
Actually, I'm the one who replaced her after she disappeared..."

	Freddy raised his eyebrows, "Disappeared?"

	"Yeah," she looked over her shoulder to check if the coast was
clear, "supposedly she was carted off by ARES right from under
everybody's noses here.  I don't know exactly how it happened, since
that was before my time."

	"ARES?" He cringed, "I've had the 'pleasure' of dealing with
them before.  What did they want her for?"

	Dorcas shrugged, "I'm not sure.  Some say she's an alien and
they wanted to interrogate her.  Some say she's a creature of magic
and that ARES wanted to tap the power.  There's even the notion that
she might've been genetically engineered by ARES and that she went
rogue."

	"Hmmmm...and your best guess?"

	She sighed, "I don't know.  I get all my information from
Lonny's girls, and they're not exactly a good source.  The regular
customers are damned tight-lipped about it, and even Ratz won't fill
me in on the situation."  She nodded, "Now *that's* secretive..."

	"I suppose so."  He looked up into the space near the ceiling.
"Maybe I can understand where Blackjack's coming from, then."  He
looked back at her and shook his head.  "Not long ago, my, errr, *ex*
girlfriend was kidnapped and I went to great lengths to get her back."
A vision of the look on Howler's face as he died flashed across his
senses and was gone.  "Guess I did some things I wouldn't normally do
during that time."

	"I'm sure it's the same way with Blackjack.  Rumour has it he
can kill with his *voice*, so I guess he took it easy on you..."

	"Sheesh!", he shook his head and imitated Blackjack, "Get the
fuck up!"  He laughed ironically.  "Yeah, maybe so. 'Where's the
smart-ass now?'  He definitely got that one right.  Maybe I *did* ask
for it?"

	Dorcas shugged.  "Maybe so.  I think you should talk with him
about it."

	He frowned.  "Maybe so.  Maybe so..."  He looked down at his
t-shirt.  It showed a map of Indonesia and displayed the title "Java
is more than coffee", with a red circle marking the appropriate
island.  Unfortunately, there were now several more red markings on
it, the blood drops from his mouth soaking and spreading through the
fabric.  "Great.  Guess I'll have to get a change of clothes first.
Hopefully Blackjack will too, though, eh?"  He grinned at Dorcas.

	"Hopefully!" she laughed, "even the Chatsubo has standards..."

	He stood and set his hands on her shoulders.  "Thanks.  Thanks
a lot.  I've always relied on the kindness of strangers, so to speak.
If you ever need a favour from me, just say the word..."  He touched
her cheek with his hand, making her blush.  He chuckled, "Where's my
manners?  I don't even know your name!"  Freddy stared deeply into her
dark features as if to try to find the answer like the guesstimators
at circuses and county fairs did.

	She smiled at him.  "It's 'Dorcas'.  It's a pleasure to meet
you, Mr. Marx..."  They shook hands jokingly and Freddy pulled her to
her feet.

	He shook his head.  "And none of this 'mister', stuff.  It's
just 'Freddy'."  He exhaled, gathering his wits about him, and grabbed
his bass of the table.  "Well, Dorcas, I suppose it's time to meet
Blackjack, my peer by profession, for the first time.  I think we
might have a little discussion on the financing of instrument
repair..."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Frederick (Freddy) "Klone Crimson" Marx is Copyright by Mark Friedman
1991-1992, all rights reserved.  Please get permission before using
him in your own storyline.  (Errr, Freddy that is, not Mark! ;-)

Blackjack and Dorcas are the property of Jim Gaynor.  Used with
permission (natch).

Comments and criticism openly accepted at the address in the sig.

-- 
Mark "Klone Crimson" Friedman is friedman@cis.ohio-state.edu .................
"There is nothing former   "Beat poets,    "If you put a hungry ferret in your
 about King Crimson."       not children."  trousers, he'll run around..."
 - Robert Fripp, 5/11/90    - anonymous     - Nigel Tufnel (Spinal Tap)