Chapter 3: The Brawl

"You heard of a guy named Gunny?" Ben yelled to the bartender in the Horny Bull over the cacophony of the live music. God knows how, but they had hauled in a live band to play tonight. They weren't bad either. The leader singer was a dark haired chick in a black leather mini skirt and she and her band were dishing out a kind of retro bluesy-rock. They were inside a plexi cage that showed signs of extreme wear with explosions from hurled bottles and mugs and various stains caused by beer, vomit and blood. It was part of the ambience that made the Horny Bull the classy establishment that it was.

The bartender thought about Ben's words for a second and eventually came to the conclusion that they did not include the words 'beer' or 'drink'. He ignored Ben and turned to serve someone else. That jerk. Ben reached out and grabbed the man's collar, then pulled him bodily onto the bar. "You know," he growled into the bent over bartender's ear. "If I thought that you were pissing me off on purpose, I'd probably rip your head off and put it on my bike." The bartender froze like a deer in headlights. "I asked you if you heard of a man named Gunny. You might want to think about whether you got an answer for me or not."

Ben pushed the bartender away from him. The guy almost fell, but caught himself and came shakily to his feet.

"Well?" Ben growled. He was suddenly alone at the bar. Just the pasty faced bartender was left. The guy paused, licking his lips, thinking rapidly.

"He-he never comes in before 10."

"What does the jerk-wad look like?"

"Big. Bigger than you. Older too. Has a brush cut and bad sunburn on his face. Guy's built like a tank." Hmm. Gunny may have been bigger, but Ben was tougher. And with a name like Gunny, Ben was smarter, too.

Ben's face was stone. "You see the guy, you tell him the Polecat's want to see him." He cracked his knuckles. "And gimme a beer." The beer here was homebrewed, but wasn't as good as Quohog's stuff.

The bartender, rubbing his neck, drew Ben a mug of dark beer. Ben took it and sipped slowly, scoping the scene. All the Polecats were here in varying states of drunkenness. He'd told them to try and take it easy tonight, but a gang leader's influence only went so far. He didn't want to push his men farther then they would go. He saw some Vultures around, which made him think of two things: Mo, and trouble. Before running off to head up Corley, Mo had run with the gang for who knows how long, and it was because of her that the Polecats had the uneasy peace with the Vultures that they had. It didn't help much that Ben had crashed their rolling headquarters, the fuselage of an old C-330 transport plane, into the Poyahoka gorge. The Vultures were mostly all chicks and they ran under the charge of this big fat cow named Suzie. Depending on which end of the PMS teeter totter she was on, the Vultures would either side for or against the Polecats if, hell when, a fight broke out tonight.

The rest of the bar was full of various independents, groupies and wannabes. Father Torque was at a back table, sharing brews and stories with some other old war horses. He saw Flo off at the other bar in full war regalia, her ample charms oozing out of her too tight clothing. Oh, great. Like this can't get any worse tonight.

As soon as he thought it, he knew he was wrong, because then he saw her. Croft. She was playing pool with five guys drooling all around her. Her hair was undone, cascading down across her back and onto the pool table. It made her look a lot softer, like a real lady. She wasn't wearing her guns and still had that worn, almost transparent, tank top on, though she had changed from those shorts—too bad—to a pair of tight black jeans that fit her just as well. She was bending over the pool table to take a shot and was gathering a large group of admirers. He knew the guys that she was playing with, knew that it was only so long before they tried to grab what they were ogling.

Not knowing exactly why he was doing it, Ben finished his beer and starting walking towards the group. He was protecting her, he told himself. She was up against five bozos with no guns to back her up. If she pulled the same crap on them that she had on Big Willie last night, those guys were going to eat her alive. She thought that she was tough, but no one survived five on one. Well, maybe me.

The band broke into a slow bump and grind song, Black Velvet, that had all the local love birds flocking to the faded dance floor. The low heavy bass followed Ben's footsteps as he stalked towards the pool table. He couldn't really tell which of her fan club Lara was playing against but whoever it was, she was kicking his butt. Somehow that didn't surprise him. He glared at the guys as he stepped up to the table. Lara was leaning over the table lining up her shot at the eight ball, giving all assembled a nice view.

Ben shoved the nearest guy away, and stood next to Lara. "Get lost." He growled to the group as a whole.

Some looked like they wanted to protest, but then saw look of impending violence in Ben's dark eyes. For a moment they wondered whether Lara's obvious assets were worth the beating that Ben would give them and decided that there was easier prey elsewhere. They left slowly, not wanting it to look like they were running with their tails between their legs, but they left. Only Ben was standing there as Lara brought her cue forward and sent the eight ball rolling towards the corner pocket. As it fell with a faint click she slowly straightened up. Like a cat.

She surveyed the now empty table then looked over at Ben. "That was rather rude." She commented.

Ben shrugged and crossed his arms with the sound of creaking leather. "I flunked out of charm school."

She might have had a hint of smile, but it might have been the shadows. "Hello, Ben. Having a good evening?"

I haven't found Gunny yet, Flo wants to jump my bones and for some reason I'm here with you. Everything is perfect. "No one's died yet." He said dryly. "Can't be that bad."

"Is that how you normally measure good nights around here?" Lara asked wryly. She moved to a counter set against the wall and picked up a half full mug of beer. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your charming company?" she asked, then took a sip of the homebrew and grimaced.

Ben smirked. "Still haven't found a beer good enough for you?"

She shook her head and put down the mug. "Not on this continent."

A would be Romeo came to the table, smiling at Lara. Ben glared at him and the guy took off. "You picked the wrong place to come into unarmed." He grunted. Why do I give a damn? He asked himself.

Lara moved around the pool table, pulling up pool balls. "I'll manage," she said lightly. With her hair down and in those clothes, it didn't look like she could manage much. She sure looked hot, though.

"You look like a slut." Ben snapped. "You keep up what your doing and your gonna end up pulling the biggest train that's ever gone through this desert." Pulling a train was slang for group sex.

She raised an elegant eyebrow skeptically. "Thank you for your concern, Ben, but I can handle myself."

Ben snorted. "Yeah, right." Who the hell did this lady think she was? "Like you handled my boys in the Kickstand last night?"

She smiled menacingly. Without her guns and dressed like she was, it didn't make much of an impression. "No one got hurt, did they?" She asked.

Not because of anything she had done. "You got out safe last night because I let you." Ben growled. She moved around the table like a dancer. If nothing else, she certainly moved like Lady Grace.

Lady Grace. It suited her.

Lara stopped what she was doing, leaned against the table and crossed her arms. "You think so?" Her actions pushed up her cleavage and Ben couldn't help staring at her chest.

"This desert's going to eat you alive, Lady Grace." He snapped, still not meeting her eyes. "You'd better get on that bike and keep running until you hit ocean."

She didn't seem impressed. Why am I not surprised?

"I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." She told him pointedly.

I've had enough garbage for one night. "Have fun getting raped," Ben muttered and turned to walk away.

Behind him, Lara was racking the balls. "You seem to have chased off the competition," she called out to his back. "Would you like a game?"

Ben turned. She held out a cue to him, but he shook his head. "I've got better things to do." Anything else would be better than this.

She put the cue back into the wall rack and leaned over to take her breaking shot. "Like finding this Gunny person." She said. The tank top she wore revealed every line and curve of her back as she leaned over.

Ben just stared at her. "Yeah." He said absently. "Like that."

She had a good break, sinking three balls. She was good. "Any luck so far?" she asked as she inspected the table. Ben said nothing, just watched her as she leaned over the table to sink the thirteen.

They said nothing for a while as Lara cleared the table. She was really good. After the eight ball went down and Lara had another grimacing gulp of beer, she spoke up again. "What is a Gunny, anyway? It seems sort of an odd name."

Ben snapped his attention back to the present. "Marine corps term." he said without thinking. "Gunnery sergeant. Usually tough as nails."

She turned towards him, her dark eyes large and luminous. "And how do you know that?" She asked.

Ben grimaced. He'd gone a mighty long time without even thinking about marines. "I called the psychic friends network." He growled. I've spent too much time here, popping eye candy. He turned to leave.

Again she called out and he stopped. "Ben?" There was concern in her voice. "Be careful."

He crossed his arms. "Worry about your self, Lady Grace, not me."

Her smile had an edge to it. "Say hi to Flo for me."

Great. Now they're teaming up against me. "Not in this lifetime." He stalked away, looking for some kind, any kind of trouble. Its gonna be a long night.

Well, he certainly seemed sensitive about that marine thing, Lara thought as she played billiards. Despite what she had said to Ben, she was thankful for the solitude, however short lived it was going to be. The Horny Bull had so far proved dull and bothersome.

She had spent the afternoon and evening here, after a wonderful morning with Father Torque. The man had truly seen it all and had given Lara enough fodder for a dozen, maybe a whole series worth of articles. It was interesting to see the area's various bikers defer to the old, but by no means weak, man. It was also a novelty to see Ben respectful; she had a hunch that he was the one man on earth who Ben respected.

Afterwards she had gone back to her room and changed into more appropriate evening wear. Flo had been cackling about seeing Ben tonight and 'not letting him get away this time'. She wished Ben luck. Against Flo, he was going to need it. Lara wasn't sure why she had left her guns behind or undone her hair. She was here on work, and this was most certainly not the place to let one's guard down. She had told herself at the time that she wanted to blend in, appear non confrontational among these bikers. She wanted to hear more about this Gunny character, and felt that they would tell her more if they thought she was a 'biker chick'.

It may have seemed a good idea at the time, but she was definitely regretting it now. These gorillas had been panting and drooling over her since she had gotten here; it was impossible to get a moments peace from them and even more impossible to get a shred of respect. Dressed and acting as she was, she was purely a piece of meat to them; something to jockey over and compete for. It got very old, very quickly.

She had been keeping half an eye out for Ben the entire time she'd been here. The moment she had mentioned this Gunny person to him, he had become more alive. If he had been a dog, his ears would have perked. That was why she knew that he would be here at the Horny Bull. Even the possibility of finding and confronting this potential threat to his turf had to be explored.

It was good stuff, and would make a great article. Between Ben, his gang dominance and all the tales of Father Torque, this place was a gold mine. It might be worth sticking around for a while. She also couldn't wait to see whether Flo netted Ben or not.

"Hey babe, wanna use my stick?" came a crude voice from her side. Lara looked over at the biker with the incredible sense of humour and tried not to laugh. Instead she gave an inviting smile.

"I'll use my own, thanks." She began to pull up billiard balls. "Five dollars a ball if your up to it, sport."

The guy smiled. "When I win, how 'bout I take it out in trade?"

Lara just sighed. If something happens tonight, she thought, it had better happen soon, before she was forced to injure someone.

What a night. That damned Gunny hadn't showed, and it was after 11:30. Ben was beginning to wonder whether the guy existed. When he wasn't looking out for him, he was dodging Flo. Ben had no idea what he had done to deserve that broad. He hadn't given her any signals, in fact he'd done everything short of punching her out to get her to go away. The damn woman just wouldn't give up. She just kept on coming onto Ben and shoving her cleavage into his face. If the broad had just wanted a roll in the hay he'd probably have obliged her. She wasn't bad looking even though she had about 12 years on him. He could just tell, though, that if he ever fell for that she would have him chained up so fast his head would spin. Ben had been chained up once already, in the Vulture's hide out, and that was once too many.

If it wasn't for trying to find this Gunny guy he'd have just ducked out, but the prick hadn't showed so he'd ended up dodging Flo all night. At least the music was good. The crowd was kind of tense. Normally, at least one brawl would have started by now, but so far nothing.

Everybody knew that Ben was waiting for Gunny, and they all wanted to be around for the main event.

Croft was still here too, shaking her booty by the pool tables. Whatever. He'd tried to warn her off, and if she ended up getting banged by every biker in the bar it was her problem. So far it seemed that all she had done was separate a bunch of fools from their money. Not a very good way to make friends, either.

He'd run into Suzie the Vulture a couple of times. She and her gang were still here in force, though he had no idea which way they were leaning tonight. As much as she tried to act relaxed, he could tell that she was on the lookout too. The Vulture's turf bordered the Polecats, and any new gang in the area would be a threat to them too. He watched as Big Willie got into an arm wrestle with one of the Vultures and lost. Poor guy was getting nailed on all corners these days. He had been taken down a peg by Croft yesterday in front of the whole gang, and knocked down again right now by another woman. It wouldn't have been a big deal if Willie's head wasn't so big, but that guy had a lot of pride. Yeah, well, life was tough some times and Willie would have to deal with it just like everyone else.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw a hand at the bar point towards him. That idiot bartender that Ben had bullied earlier. He was pointing some tall bear of a guy towards Ben's table. The guy was wearing faded desert fatigues, combat boots, and a tank top shirt. A blue, faded tattoo of the globe and anchor was on his left arm. This must be Gunny. Good. It was time for some butt kicking.

Ben stood and began to walk towards the guy, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea. Gunny saw Ben coming towards him and just smiled. Tension filled the air like electricity.

As Ben neared the bar he realized just how big this son of a bitch was. Ben was 6'2" and 220 lb. but this guy had at least 6 inches and 100 pounds on him. He didn't have rippling muscles on him but there sure wasn't any fat.