|
EXT. TATOOME - MOR PRESLEY - SIDE STREET
They pull up in front of a rundown bar, which occupies a defunct warehouse. It is discreetly tucked away in a side street.
They pull around to the parking lot behind the warehouse, where various vehicles are parked, from decrepit things pieced
together from various wildly different cars and trucks, to bright and shiny, expensive new machines. A Ma'wa runs up to them
and tries to insist they let him valet park the Pinto.
THIRTEENPIO: Bugger off, you little maggot!
As Lance gets out of the car, the Ma'wa tries to importune him for money, too.
LANCE: Oh, get off me! You stink!
The Ma'wa waddles drunkenly away, muttering sadly to himself.
LANCE: So, man, how'd you do that with the troopers? I thought we were busted for sure.
KIMONO: Ancient Chinese secret, Lance. The strong can influence the weak-minded if one concentrates totally. Part of the
Urban Knights training, by the way.
LANCE: Cool.
They all start to walk towards the back entrance of the bar.
LANCE: Do you think we can really find a guide here who'll take us to the Aldergoths?
KIMONO: Well, this is one of the Rebellion's clubs, so there should be someone in here we can trust. Just watch yourself.
They can play a little rough, they've had years to learn paranoia.
LANCE: No problem. I'm ready for anything.
Aryoo and Thirteenpio follow a couple of steps behind.
THIRTEENPIO: This should be amusing, Aryoo.
Aryoo tinkles in agreement.
INT. TATOOME - MOR PRESLEY – BAR
Lance and the rivetheads follow Kimono into the smoke-drenched bar. The dim interior is filled with various body-modification
trends, from lumpy implants in faces and on arms and necks, to wildly colourful tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin.
There is plenty of PVC and black leather in evidence, as well as girls and boys of various descriptions strapped tightly
into stiff corsetry. There's a lot of cleavage, as well, and the three young guys stare without embarrassment. Kimono moves
to the only empty space at the long bar, near a group of grim-looking men in various combinations of black velvet and pleather.
An enormous bouncer moves in front of Lance as he tries to follow Kimono, arms folded, and stares down at him. Threepio
and Aryoo grin at each other, and move around Lance to find a table.
BOUNCER: We don't serve your kind here!
Lance is still a little stunned at the sight of so many interesting bodies, and it takes a moment for the bouncer's words
to sink in.
LANCE: (still looking at girls) Huh?
BOUNCER: You. Out. We don't want you here.
Finally getting it, Lance looks up at the bouncer, scowling.
LANCE: What the hell is wrong with me?
BOUNCER: Dress code violation. (he points at a sign over the bar) You're not wearing enough black, and your hairstyle is
six months out-of-date.
Lance's frown deepens. He looks over at Kimono, who happens to be glancing his way, and inclines his head toward the bouncer.
Kimono excuses himself from his conversation and comes over. His new friends glare at Lance, then turn back to their drinks.
Kimono taps the bouncer on the shoulder.
KIMONO: I think it'll be okay to let him in just this once, don't you, Burl?
The bouncer (Burl) looks down at Kimono and smiles in recognition.
BOUNCER: Hey, y’old sonuvab*tch, ya! Good to see ya!
KIMONO: Good to see you, too, Burl. Look, good buddy, why don't you let Lance here go sit down with his friends?
He waves an arm at Thirteenpio and Aryoo, who are sipping from huge mugs of beer at a table on the far side of the room.
They smile and wave at Burl.
BOUNCER: Well, I guess. It's dark enough over there, nobody'll see him.
Kimono nods and slaps Burl on the back. Lance glares at him, then at Burl, and sidles through the crowd over to the rivetheads'
table, muttering under his breath.
LANCE: (sitting down) I'd have more fun sitting in the Pinto. Sh*t.
THIRTEENPIO: I doubt that, dude, the show is due to start in five minutes.
Aryoo and Thirteenpio start chuckling as Lance's eyes widen and he turns red.
Kimono slips back into his place at the bar, and takes a huge swallow from his mug of dark, chewable, stout.
Kimono relaxes, and picks up his conversation. On either side of him are the men he hopes will guide the group to the Aldergoths.
To his left is Tabacca, to the right, Man Dingo. Tabacca is a tall, muscle-bound and dangerous-looking individual. He's
chewing something and slurping his beer, spilling it on himself and the bar. He's dressed in black jeans and a tight, black
t-shirt with something rude printed over the chest, and has a bandolier slung around him, filled with gleaming missles for
the huge hand cannon strapped to his hip. Man Dingo is wearing tight black velvet jeans and a sheer, black chiffon shirt.
His golden hair falls to his shoulders, curling softly. He has gentle blue eyes and cupid-bow lips, and there is no weapon
to be seen, as they are all hidden about his person. He's fast and mean, but doesn't look as though he'd hurt a fly.
Kimono converses with Tabacca, pointing out Lance and the rivetheads at their table. Tabacca laughs raucously, imitating
Lance's mohawk with his hands. Lance's scowl deepens and he slumps further down in his chair, looking around to see if anybody
else is watching this display.
Lance tries to keep his temper in check, and buries his nose in his beer, drinking deeply. Thirteenpio and Aryoo are deeply
involved in girl-watching.
A large, multiply-pierced dancer slams into the table, spilling Lance's beer all down his shirt and into his lap. Thirteenpio
and Aryoo are both quick enough to rescue their drinks and jump up and out of the line of fire.
SLAM-DANCER: (slurring, obviously very drunk) Hey, punk! What'd you do that for, huh?
Lance slams his mug down and puts his hands on the table, leaning towards the slam-dancer, baring his teeth. He leans back
quickly as the dancer's friends step up behind him, a short, even more multiply-pierced woman entirely wrapped in leather
straps, and a tall, thin man covered in tattoos of screaming mouths.
STRAP-GIRL: He doesn't like you.
LANCE: Too damn bad!
STRAP-GIRL: I don't like you either
The slam-dancer leans forward, as Lance leans even further back and ends up with his hands behind him on the wall to prevent
himself from toppling right over. They sneer at each other.
STRAP-GIRL: (moving up close to Lance) You better watch yourself. We're all fugitives. I got the death sentence in twelve
cities.
LANCE: (sarcastically) That's so hard to believe!
STRAP-GIRL: You'd better believe it.
The tattoo-guy grunts loudly and moves in on the other side of the table. Lance is fascinated by the skin art, and is distracted
from the girl for a split second, and she takes advantage of that, whipping out a knife and holding it against his throat.
The slam-dancer laughs like a hyena, which finally gets Kimono's attention.
Kimono moves up behind the three threatening Lance. He taps the strap-girl on the shoulder.
KIMONO: I can guarantee you he isn't worth the effort. Let me buy you
a drink or something....
The slam-dancer punches Lance in the belly, and he slams into the wall and down to the floor. Thirteenpio and Aryoo panic
and run through the now-avidly watching crowd, stepping on toes and elbowing people out of the way. Thirteenpio runs right
into another large individual carrying a pitcher of beer in one hand and a fistfull of mugs in the other. The pitcher and
mugs smash to the floor, splashing various people with beer and bits of glass. About ninety percent of the bar patrons pull
out weapons, the other ten percent try to make themselves small.
The bartender rings a bell over the bar to get everyone's attention.
BARTENDER: No guns!
The crowd pauses in its hectic movement for just a second, then returns to near-riot. Thirteenpio and Aryoo take the opportunity
of the distraction and high-tail it through the crowd, towards the back and disappear out the exit.
Lance pulls himself back up, and steps towards the slam-dancer, but the strap-girl and tattoo-guy each grab him by an arm,
and hold him back. He struggles, trying to get to the slam-dancer, who's rubbing his hands and grinning evilly.
Kimono calmly draws his sword, while the determined trio are all watching Lance. This time, he taps the tattoo-guy on the
shoulder with the flat of his weapon, and when the tattoo-guy turns to see, he gets the blade tip pressed into his neck.
He freezes. A single drop of blood appears on his skin, amid all the black ink.
Tabacca and Man Dingo are suddenly right there, as well, and they smile and nod from Kimono's side. The trio sizes up the
situation and decides it's not worth it, and back away from Lance, who bunches his fists and steps towards them.
LANCE: Yeah, that's right!
STRAP-GIRL: Sorry about that chief (nodding to Tabacca). Didn't know this one was yours.
TATTOO-GUY: Yeah, yours.
SLAM-DANCER: Enjoy, man.
They all turn and walk as quickly out of the bar as they can without appearing to run.
Kimono introduces Lance to his two acquaintances.
KIMONO: This is Tabacca. He's got some connections we could use.
Lance nods at Tabacca and looks questioningly at Man Dingo.
TABACCA: That’s my partner, Man Dingo. He don’t talk much.
 Go to page 7
Back
|
