What follows is a splicing of two continuities for the sake of one out of continuity tale.  The references herein pertain to events occurring in both Jonathan and Melissa’s stories.

 

THE BOYS NIGHT OUT

 

                The bar the three strange men approached was seedy looking.  A faded sign with a picture of a rocking chair on it swung gently in the breeze.  “We’re hanging out here?” the first asked, his voice sweet and melodic.

“Nowhere else to hang, not since the old bag told us to ‘drink elsewhere,’” the second replied.

“Hey.  Watch who you call an old bag!” the third said, shoving the second lightly.

“Come on.  Let’s just go get drunk,” the first said, opening the door.

 

                The establishment looked no better on the inside than it had on the out.  Warped wood panelling and patched fabric seemed to be the theme.  The three men slid easily into a booth.  “Place looks pretty empty tonight,” the first man said.

“Can I get you gents anything?” a buxom barmaid asked.

“Sure.  I’ll take you upstairs,” the third man said suggestively.

“Easy there Psychro.  We don’t really want to get into that again,” the second man said.

“You can start by getting us each a Labatt Blue.  On the house, of course,” the first said, producing a glowing club.

“Of course,” the woman said, leaving with a glazed look in her eyes.

 

                “You’re no fun, Knave,” Psychro said leaning back.

“I try not to be.  Besides.  Luna’d have your scalp if she found out you were cheating on her,” Knave snickered.

“Not as quickly as Shade’d have yours if you cheated on her,” Alluro said.

“More accurately.  Nightshade,” Psychro added.

The woman arrived with their drinks and the guys ordered some nachos and fries.

 

                “So, tell us Knave, honestly.  How good is she?” Psychro asked.

“Shade?  Don’t tell me you’re interested in her?” Knave said.

“Of course not.  Far too young for my tastes,” Psychro said.

“Good.  Then you shouldn’t care about how ‘good’ she is,” Knave said, taking a long swig of beer.

“All right then.  Who’s better, Shade or Nightshade?” Alluro jested.

“Shade.  By far,” Knave said.

“She can’t be as good as Chilla though...” Alluro began.

“You may have a point,” Knave growled, “but then, so do I.”  He produced his icepick and laid it on the table.

“No, no.  Let him talk.  I could use some of this information,” Psychro said.

“Fine, only if he tells us how good Psikaris is,” Knave replied, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

“Drop it Alluro,” Psychro said hastily.

 

                The three sat in silence as the barmaid returned with their food.  Psychro excused himself, claiming a visit to the little Lunatak’s room, leaving the other two with their food.

“There he goes.  Off on another conquest,” Alluro remarked.

“Thought he said he was going to the bathroom,” Knave said, between mouthfuls of nachos.

“And you believed him?  Was it any coincidence that he left as the barmaid left?” Alluro asked, pouring more vinegar on his fries.

“I guess you’re right.  He’ll probably brag about it when he gets back,” Knave said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t doubt it.  Just bring up him and Luna though and he’ll shut up,” Alluro said.

 

                That was the one black spot on Psychro’s record.  Known as a womanizer by the Lunataks, he had also spent a torrid night with Luna, thus making her pregnant.  Granted, Alluro’s claim to fame wasn’t much better.  He had always been in love with Chilla but had been tricked by Psikaris into sleeping with her instead.  Since that time he had gained the services of Chilla, Psikaris and Cheetalia.  Knave could only boast that and Shade were getting married.

 

                “Great.  We’re out of beer,” Knave grumbled, slipping from the seat.  “I’ll go get us some more.”

“Just try not to kill anyone to get it this time,” Alluro said.

 

                “You work here?” Knave asked a fat balding man.

“Yeah, what can I do you for?” the man said in a thick southern drawl.

“I want three pitchers of beer.  Fosters, Guinness, and some Old Milwaukee’s,” Knave said.  The bartender walked over, got the beer and placed it on the counter.  “And how will you be paying for it?” he asked.

“You know.  It’s very hard to run an establishment when you’re frozen solid,” Knave said, covering the man’s arm in ice.

“Take it, it’s yours,” the bartender cried, fleeing to the back to defrost his arm.

 

                “Did you really have to do that?” Alluro asked, “he might call the cops.”

“I was nice.  I thought about flash freezing that arm and shattering it.  As for the cops, I haven’t had a good fight in days,” Knave said, carefully pouring himself some more beer.

 

                A little later Psychro reemerged from the back room and the barmaid descended some time later.  “You must’ve had quite the time ‘going to the bathroom,’ eh Psychro?” Alluro asked.

“Well, it was hard, but some how I managed to get through,” Psychro said, “of course that pretty little barmaid had to help me out a little.”  A rictus grin had spread to Psychro’s face.

“Should’ve asked her for some more food while she ‘helped’ you out,” Knave said, noting that they had no more food.

“Trust me.  She was too busy crying my name to take my order,” Psychro boasted.

“Was she any better than Luna?” Knave asked.

“I think I’ll go get that food,” Psychro said.  As the hybrid walked away Knave and Alluro exchanged high fives.

 

                It didn’t take long for Psychro to return with food.  Wings, honey garlic flavour, were placed unceremoniously on the table.  “Here you are, m’sieurs,” he said glibly.

“Why thank you Psychro.  We didn’t know you cared,” Knave said.

“I don’t, but you guys ate all the rest of the food,” Psychro said.

 

                “Hey!  You!” said a large man with a pool cue.  He wore a leather jacket and black jeans.

“My, my.  Someone that smells worse than Red Eye’s cooking and Tug Mug’s armpits rolled into one,” Knave remarked.  The man jabbed a pudgy finger into Psychro’s shoulder.

“I hear you went and knocked up my daughter,” the man said.

“Wouldn’t be surprised.  He’s ‘knocked up’ many a girl in his day,” Knave said.

“Ah, but only one human,” Alluro added.

“I assume then that you have objection to this arrangement?” Psychro asked.

“Damn straight.  The only one who’s allowed doing that is her husband.  An’ I don’t hear you offering to marry her,” the man said.

“Right.  The way she carried on, I wasn’t the first.  Trust me.  I’m an expert in such things,” Psychro snickered.  The man grabbed Psychro by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out of his seat.  “You mind repeating that?” he said.

“Actually, yes.  My beer’s getting warm you see,” Psychro said, planting a fist in the man’s ample stomach.

 

                “Finally.  A fight!” Knave said, climbing onto the table.  He then vaulted over Psychro and his opponent to take on some of the guy’s friends.  There were ten in all, not including the bartender, now wielding a baseball bat.

 

                “I am not your opponent.  You will attack each other with those pool cues,” Alluro intoned as two men rushed him.  They skidded to a halt and swung at each other, knocking themselves out quickly.

 

                “Come on, Alluro.  No fair using powers,” Psychro laughed smashing an empty pitcher against the father’s head.

“You can follow your own rules of combat.  Mine dictate that I avoid getting hurt,” Alluro replied.

“Then stand back and let us do the dirty work,” Psychro said, kicking the man repeatedly in the ribs.

 

                Knave gleefully punched another of the seven men beginning to crowd around him.  He didn’t really want to use his Cheetah born powers, that would end the fight rather quickly.  Instead he tackled one man and used the momentary gap to get himself into the open.  “Catch me if you can,” he called out to them.

“Save some for me!” Psychro shouted, running forward to level one of the men.

 

                Psychro’s arrival did one thing for Knave.  It diverted some of the attention away from him.  Not that he minded.  He could see the bartender moving in, as though he wore a target on his chest.  “Hey!  Bartender.  Your beer stinks!” Knave said, grabbing a full pitcher off another table and tossing it at him.  The shot was not designed to be anything more than a distraction, and it served its purpose well.  Knave plunged forward and sent a kick into the man’s head.  “That’s no fun.  He went down like a sack of potatoes,” Knave said pushing the man behind the bar.

“You’d rather he went down like Roast Berbil Stew?” Psychro asked, strangling a man with his own chain.

“Yeah.  What’s the point in fighting if they go down easy?” Knave asked.

“Well, maybe we can make your day,” two men, twins snarled.

“Oh good, a two for one sale!” Knave giggled, grabbing the beer spray nozzles.  “Would you like to try this imported stuff?” he asked, spraying each man in the face.  “No?  You don’t care for it?  Neither do I.  Cheap American beer.”

 

                Psychro leaped to the pool table.  “If you gentlemen insist on using pool cues I’m going to insist we use them in the right location,” he said.

“I’ll git you!” one of the two men facing Psychro spat.

“Git?  I don’t believe I know that word.  I’ll have to look it up.  Must mean “be beaten up by” because that’s the only term that fits there,” Psychro said.  So saying Psychro flipped the 7 ball into his hand and tossed it at the man.

 

                “Gentlemen.  I believe I shall go deal with the approaching police,” Alluro said, slipping out the window.  He figured that his friends could handle things, and suspected they couldn’t care less whether the cops came in or not, but he felt in necessary to do something.

 

                While the two men rubbed their eyes, trying to remove the sting from the beer, Knave sauntered up to them and cracked their heads together like ripe coconuts.  He looked up in time to see Psychro dispatch of the last two men.  They soon joined Alluro outside.

 

                “You will find no disturbances here and will head back to a donut shop, where you will eat four donuts each and spill coffee in your laps,” Alluro intoned, his crystal hovering over the three squad cars.

“You’re just as twisted as we are,” Knave said, trying desperately to put his arm around Alluro’s shoulders.

“Couldn’t agree more.  We should get kicked out of Skytomb more often.  We have more fun this way,” Psychro said.

“I will grudgingly concede that the ordeal was quite stimulating,” Alluro said.

“And to think.  It never would’ve happened if I hadn’t bagged that barmaid,” Psychro said.

“Hey.  I hear there’s this bar down by the lake that serves wicked wings.  Maybe we should go ‘pay it a visit?’” Knave suggested.

 

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