Seeing that Justin had long since left Jolly Roger Arms, Shades wandered down the way a bit, eventually bumping into Max and Ma’Quiver, out stretching their legs along with Bandit.
“What’s up?” Ma’Quiver asked, noting the serious look on Shades’ face. “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
More than he had at the Bazaar, at any rate.
“Well,” Shades wondered, much like with Justin, where to even begin, “have you ever had a dream about somebody you never knew in real life, only to find out years later that they really did exist?”
That prompted a quizzical look from both of them.
“What do you mean?” Max cocked his head.
“It could take some time to explain,” Shades told them. “I, uh, kinda feel like sitting down after that…”
“Then let’s go eat,” Max recommended. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving!”
“How about the Hang Ten?” Ma’Quiver suggested. “Rude Bones can keep his brew, and drink it too, but that one girl, Jillian, said Kalika makes the best seafood on the island.”
“Sounds good,” Shades replied.
Turned out they hadn’t far to walk at all, as their meandering had brought them within a stone’s throw of the Hang Ten Bar & Grill already. A low, sprawling driftwood building down close to the beach, with a weathered collection of old surfboards leaning against the wall on either side of the entrance. Inside, they found even more surfing and sailing memorabilia lining the walls, adding color to the spaces between porthole style windows.
Clusters of tables and chairs, of more uniform but of less decorative make than Café la Mer’s, with a broad bar on one side, the windows offering a tranquil view of the Ocean. Shades almost immediately noticed several arcade games off to the side, making a mental note to check them out later. It was still too early for the dinner crowd, so there were only a handful of people about.
“Well, at least we shouldn’t have to wait too long for our dinner,” Ma’Quiver quipped as they approached the bar. “Excuse us, ma’am, but we’d like to order.”
As she looked up from wiping glasses and dishes, Max was taken aback for a moment by the barkeep’s violet eyes. Then he relaxed, reminding himself where he was. He guessed from the looks on their faces that Justin and Shades had noticed, as well.
“What’s their problem?” the proprietor demanded. A middle-age woman of medium height and build, with mid-length sun-bleached hair, her sleeveless tunic exposing exotic glyphs tattooed on her deeply tanned shoulders. Her face a study in world-weary exasperation that struck them as well-suited to a bartender.
“I think they’ve had a few bad experiences with Cyexians before,” Ma’Quiver remarked.
“Oh really?” she raised an eyebrow, taking a no-nonsense tone that surely came in handy talking down folks who’d had a few too many. “And just what kind of Cyexians were those?”
“Pirates, mostly,” Shades answered sheepishly, wishing no one had even brought it up. Remembering Kato and the Triad, he tacked on, “And the occasional swindler.”
“Always pirates,” she sighed, having clearly been over this more times than she cared to count, “pirates and mercenaries and Pactra… When I first started, it was because that was the only way for us to make a living on the high seas where I came from, not because my goal in life was to be an outlaw.” Then her face softened somewhat. “Still, it’s not like we’re welcome in every realm, so I guess it’s only fair to say that’s how I might’ve ended up myself if I hadn’t found my true passion in life.”
“And what might that be?” Ma’Quiver asked.
“Why, I thought it’d be obvious to you boys just by lookin’ around!” she laughed, sounding younger than she had at any point in this entire conversation. “Surfing, of course! Ever since I saw it on Moki Island, I knew that was what I wanted to do, even before I learned how. By the way, the name’s Dagmar, co-owner of the Hang Ten.”
And so they introduced themselves.
“I first met my partner, Kalika, during my travels, seeking good places to catch a wave. On a good day, the waves here are some of the best I’ve ever ridden.”
“Kalika?” Max thought a moment. “The one who makes great seafood?”
“And great surfboards, too,” Dagmar added, gesturing over to one of the tables.
Wiping down a table, he was a man of average height, and that lanky, sinewy physique of someone who swims a lot. Hair bleached almost white, with a tawny skin tone, and a weathered face that made it impossible to pin down his age. Decked out in the shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops that seemed to be common attire around the island.
“The best waves are in the morning, so we’re never open before noon. The perfect way to start the day, don’t you think?”
“I see,” Shades nearly giggled, wondering if he hadn’t listened to too many Beach Boys songs on the radio as a kid, “now if only people like Striker would just find a hobby.”
“Damn, no wonder you were so edgy!” Dagmar remarked. “Lowlifes like her give all our sisters a bad name. In my youth, I used to run with Striker,” she winked, “but not the one you’ve heard of.”
“What do you mean by that?” Max’s face puzzled.
“If you really want to know, go ask him.” Pointing to a table in the corner, where they saw Rude Bones sitting with another familiar face. “He’ll talk your ear off about ‘the good old days’— your other ear, too, if you buy him a drink. Me, I don’t like to dwell.”
“Rude Bones?” Ma’Quiver intoned.
“You know him?” Dagmar cocked her head.
“Sort of,” Shades clarified. “He kinda saved our lives yesterday when we were stranded.”
“You don’t say?” Dagmar grinned. “Maybe the old fart does have some redeeming qualities!”
“Well, he did charge us for fuel,” Ma’Quiver pointed out.
“There we go, that sounds more like the good-for-nothing scoundrel I know!” she laughed. “And that would explain why he’s paying his tab up-front for a change…”
“But what’s Justin doing hanging out with him?” Max wondered aloud.
“Don’t rightly know,” Dagmar sighed, “but like most things he does, it bugs me. I mean, I know there aren’t any laws here— something I normally like about the place— but at times like this, I wouldn’t mind a drinking age to wave in his face…”
As she turned back to her work, they went over to see what was up at their table.
“Hey guys!” Justin called out, waving a beer bottle at them. “What took ya so long?”
“Oy kitty!” Rude Bones waved at Bandit.
“Um, Justin, are you okay?” Max asked, having never seen him like this before. Weird, like Rude Bones was last night. Only when Rude Bones was like that, he just seemed even more like himself, whereas Justin…
“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” Shades had his suspicions after hearing Dagmar’s remark, but it was still something else to actually see it for himself. Trying to shrug off the awkwardness of his own upbringing and customs, “I mean, I know there aren’t any laws around here—”
“Damn skippy!” Rude Bones interjected. “We was just talkin’ ’bout pirates!”
“Yeah, and one thing led to another,” Justin blurted. “This stuff tastes pretty funky, but for some reason I don’t mind…”
“Feel free to partake,” the old pirate invited with a lopsided grin. “Yer money goes further with her than it does with that miser at the pumps!”
“No thanks,” Ma’Quiver declined. “Shanshou-kan is an art that requires intense mental focus. As part of my training, I abstain from anything that dulls the mind.”
“What he said,” Max hastily added. Aside from entertaining the occasional Outlander, he couldn’t recall his parents drinking. That, and there was just something about Justin’s manner that bothered him, as if he wasn’t quite the same person.
“I’ll pass,” Shades said, but took a seat as Max and Ma’Quiver looked at him for a moment, then turned to each other and left, leaving him alone with them. This could be entertaining… “But I’ll stick around for the conversation.”
“Party poopers… more for me, I guess,” Rude Bones sniffed, taking another sip. “Suit yerself.”
“So,” Shades broke in, trying to keep things conversational, “Dagmar says you used to know Striker.”
Justin spit his brew at that one.
“That all depends,” Rude Bones smirked. “Which ‘Striker’ ya talkin’ about?”
“How many can there be?” Justin demanded.
“Oh, there’ve been several, t’be sure,” the old pirate leaned back in his chair, “even a couple imposters who were askin’ for it.”
“I’d say!” Shades laughed. “That sounds like a dangerous name to throw around out there. I’m surprised anyone would dare.”
“Ah, but the one she was talkin’ about was one of her predecessors,” he went on. “There’s been at least half a dozen Cyexian pirates named ‘Striker’ in the last few generations, ’s’almost more of a title than a name anymore.”
“I see.” Shades nodded.
“Seeing as how only you stuck around,” Kalika announced as he brought a tray of seafood over to their table, “I took the liberty of making only one order. I hope it’s to your liking, young mariner.”
“Thank you,” Shades replied as Kalika walked away, shaking his head at Justin, who simply cocked his head back as if to say, What?
“Along with the name,” Rude Bones continued, “t’other thing the ‘real’ Striker had was a pair of laser swords, a matching set. They were apparently passed down from one Striker to the next.”
“Say Justin,” Shades cut in, “you should really try the crab!” Hoping he could make this little rite of passage a little less painful for him. “It’s some of the best I’ve ever tasted!”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Justin replied, nibbling at a few bites, then turning back to Rude Bones. “So if there’s supposed ta be two’ve ’em, why’d the Striker we met only got one?”
“Ah, that’s where Dagmar’s Striker comes in,” the old pirate explained. “She don’t talk about it no more, but back in the day she use’ta run with some pretty wild gals. Trust me, I can tell ya just how wild… heh, heh.”
“I’m sure you can,” Shades assured him, shoving some of the appetizers across the table, though Justin wasn’t paying any attention, “but I believe you were talking about Striker?”
“Yeah,” Rude Bones sighed, “well, long story short, Striker lost one of ’em in a duel.” He cackled for a moment. “And to a man, no less! From what I heard, she was pissed. She spent the rest of her days searching for that sword, and the man who took it. I think that’s when Dagmar left her crew. Striker was so obsessed with that sword, and with revenge, they say she lost her crew, her ship, and finally her life, without ever finding either the sword or the swordsman.”
“So there’s another exotic blade like that floating around out there,” Shades mused.
“Ya got that right,” the old pirate warned them, “and every ‘Striker’ since her has been lookin’ for it ever since. If yer friend actually beat her, ya can bet yer ass she’ll be lookin’ for revenge!”
“Yeah,” Shades laughed to himself, though he didn’t much care for the idea of meeting her again, “when we parted ways, she was mad enough to chew lumber and spit toothpicks. The fact that we sank her ship means she has it in for all of us, not just Max.”
“Hate to be in the same neighborhood when she catches up with ya!” Rude Bones laughed.
“Ha! We’re not scared’a that bitch!” Justin declared.
“Yeah,” Shades chuckled, “it is easy to say that after the fact, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah!” Justin shot back, “well, it was my EMP grenades got us there’n the first place!”
“You mean our EMP’s,” Shades amended.
“Damn straight! Was my money that bought ’em!”
“Oy! Dagmar!” Rude Bones called out. “These lads sank that Striker’s ship, ya know that?”
“And I should care, why?” Dagmar rolled her eyes.
“Fer old time’s sake!” the old man told her. “This calls for somethin’ special. Ya still got that mystery bottle ya picked up a while back?”
“You’re not serious, are you?” Dagmar shook her head. “Even I have no clue what’s in there.”
“A’course I am,” Rude Bones replied. “There’s gotta be somethin’ good in there, right, Dagger?”
“I told you not to call me that.” Both her tone and her glare sharp enough to draw blood.
Even Kalika’s already stern disapproval seemed to dial up a notch.
“Fine…” Dagmar muttered, digging around under the bar and coming up with an unmarked bottle of something dark pink and hazy, and a shot glass. “But if you get trashed and make a scene when the evening customers are here, I’ll kick your ass no matter how drunk you are.”
“Spoken like a true pirate,” the old man grinned.
“And you’ll pay for it in advance.”
“Spoken like a true barkeep.” His face and voice pleasant enough, his payment flung across the table.
“What the hell is that?” Shades asked as Dagmar plunked the bottle down on the table. While no connoisseur himself, he had still never seen anything like it.
“Don’t rightly know,” Dagmar admitted. “A former sister of the old Pactra traded me for it, but I still haven’t dared to crack it open, given that she’d drink damn near anything. Kinda like someone else we know.”
“So, it’s a mystery, huh?” Justin looked at it, noting the way it seemed to shift and shimmer, seemed to almost change color ever so slightly.
“Yep,” Rude Bones popped the cork, “and she’s been hoardin’ it all this time, chargin’ more’n even her best. This better be worth it…”
He poured a shot, shoving it across the table to Justin, saying, “First one’s on the young hero who made this possible!”
“Really?” Justin sounded flattered enough, but then he just stopped and stared at it for a moment in hesitation.
“I don’t know…” Shades took a long look at that glass himself. “That stuff looks like trouble.”
“Ya gonna listen to a prude like ’im?” Rude Bones sniffed. “I’m offerin’ ya the first shot outta respect fer winnin’ yer first fight with a Cyexian.”
Another remark Dagmar spared him a sharp glare for.
Shades shrugged in resignation.
“Not one word!” Justin took up the glass and downed it all in one gulp. “You’re the one wanted a Donner Party!”
Then fell over face-first, nearly tipping the table as he rolled off of it.
“Out of respect, eh?” Shades couldn’t help noting the childish glee on Rude Bones’ wizened face.
“Now that’s what’s supposed to happen!” the old pirate cackled, pouring himself a shot and tossing it back, coughing for a moment. “Now that’s some good shit there!”
Then his eyes rolled up, and he fell over backward.
Shades reached over for the bottle, sniffing it cautiously, nearly fumbling it at a powerful, eye-watering smell he had never encountered before.
“Dammit! I knew this was gonna be trouble…” Dagmar fumed, “but he just wouldn’t shut up about it…”
“I suppose I’ll have to drag him back to his shack,” Kalika muttered, “but at least he won’t be troubling our guests tonight.”
“And I’ll take Justin back to the ship,” Shades volunteered, fearing it would come to something like this anyway. “I’m pretty sure that was his first time, and I bet that bastard knew it, too.”
“And you?” Kalika raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve… sampled a couple things along the way,” Shades confessed, recalling a funny detail about living within driving distance of the Canadian border: the realization that at least half of his old classmates ‘celebrated’ their eighteenth birthdays up there, “but much like coffee, alcohol’s an ‘acquired taste’ I just never acquired.”
“I see,” he nodded. “Then take care of your friend. I don’t think moderation is his strong suit.”
Shades nodded, then turned to his task, saying, “For what’s it’s worth, your seafood’s to die for.”
“Glad you like it.”
As the two of them set out, Dagmar took a sip from the bottle.
“As I thought,” she said after a moment, “old girl still drinks like a fish.” Then she handed the bottle to Kalika. “At least he paid his tab in full for once, he can have it if he wants it.”
Then she went right back to work.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hang Ten Bar & Grill
