Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel with the exception of Marty, who belongs to me. The Arleccino Timeline was created by and belongs to Falstaff.

More information on this timeline can be found at Junkmail's site. Follow the link on the first page to the archive.

Questions/Comments: sabre@industrialwebworks.com

Warning: Possibly disturbing subject matter and language.

***

Life, Death and a Double Scotch
a story from the Arleccino Timeline

by Sabre

***

Our new bouncer opened the doors and the first of the crowd sauntered in, polished and glittering.

I've been working this place for three years. Not a helluva long time as employment records go but long enough to learn how to read the crowd like a skinny book. Tonight's a good night. I can tell already. The mood's light; everybody want to have a loud, fun time. Sometimes it's kind of heavy. The desperation gets out. But tonight is going to be a party.

I'm pouring shots for a bunch of giggly college girls when I notice the blonde was around tonight. She's a regular so I get Nancy to send down her usual drink. She's always good for it so I don't worry about getting her credit card or cash right off.

She doesn't say much. Oh sure, she talks. Can't do the hot babe act without plenty of innuendo so I hear her chatting up a possible pick-up every time she's here. But I got time to listen and she's never said anything. Sounds cold but this isn't the place for heart-to-heart talks.

She's picked out someone new. A girl. She's into both so that isn't too surprising. I've been watching her for a while so I know the types she goes for. Boys? Young blondes and Latin lovers. Girls? Always brunettes. The ones that get called 'sweet' looking by their grandmas.

The new girl fits the pattern perfectly. Slender, longish hair and lots of it. Pretty modestly dressed for the crowd but still nicely turned out. The blonde drifts over and, after some conversation I can't hear from the bar, she sits down beside her friend for the night.

***

I'm prepping more Daiquiri mix when I notice the blonde is sitting right in front of me. Without her new friend. Can't win them all.
"Need a refill?" I ask.
"No thanks, Marty. I'm good," she says. She smiles but her eyes aren't seeing me. Getting turned down is hard, even for babes. And she is a babe. Long straight blonde hair, blue eyes, terrific body. If I was more confident that she wouldn't shoot me down I might have made a play when I first saw her. Now here's the thing. I've been talking to her for almost a year but I don't know her name. I haven't asked and I don't intend to. It's easier for some people to talk when they know that you don't know who they are.
"How you been doin'?"
Her eyes focus on me. I know what she sees. Skinny, glasses, nothing much face. A couple of the bouncers say I look like a librarian who hasn't seen the sun in a year. I've got good hair but that's about it.
"I've been fabulous." She smirks.
I grin. We got this game going: who can insult the other the most.
"I dunno if I should believe that. Can you get that claim notarized?"
"I could but then could you even read it?" she shot back.
"What? You're not going to read it to me?"
She smiles a bit wider, which was good. She was here for a good time after all. I go back to my prep work and she watches. She's got something on her mind but I let her pick when she wants to talk. Stuff like this isn't covered in bartending school but it should be.
"You know anything about baby shower gifts?" she finally asks.
I put down the shaker and give her a stare.
"Why? You knocked up?"
She makes a face of total disgust.
"Bite your tongue!"
I chuckle.
"Who's having the kid?"
She holds out her glass. I take it and replace it with a fresh splash.
"Kitty," she mutters before taking a swig.
I know who she's talking about. She's talked about Kitty before. I pour myself a tonic water and think about a gift suggestions since she asked. Not my major skill but I can wing it.
"How 'bout diapers? Kids need lots of those. Or clothes. Clothes usually work."
She looks thoughtful. "Yeah, I suppose the brat will need something to wear."
"You sound like you don't like the idea of your friend having a kid."
She scowls at me. I get the feeling that the 'brat' comment slipped out.
I can't remember Kitty's husband's name for the life of me. I should write this stuff down.
"Is she still with that British guy?"
"Yes, unfortunately."
That doesn't sound too good.
"What's wrong? He's not hitting her, is he?"
She almost chokes on her drink from laughing.
"Hell, no! I'd have him strung up by his intestines if he tried to hurt her."
"I don't doubt it," I tell her honestly.
She smiles but there's real steel under that pretty-girl look. "Pete's good to her. I still can't stand him but we play nice."
I don't press and she doesn't say anymore. Sometimes people just don't hit it off. It couldn't have helped that Pete came between her and her best friend.
"Tell me about yourself, Marty," she asks.
I shrug. "Not much to tell. I left home early, wasted time at school for a few years and now I tend bar."
She hands me her glass again. I fill it.
"Why'd you leave home?"
I wind up my sleeve a bit so she can see the burn marks. Like I've said, I don't tan so the scars look even worse against my sickly indoor skin. I'm thinking of trying those tanning beds to get a little colour.
"Bad scene. I snapped and took off."
I watch her face. For a second, there's a shadow in her eyes. Then it's gone. I wonder what she's thinking.
"How far do they go?" she asks in a curious voice.
"Pretty much everywhere." I manage a grin. "I bet you thought I was covered up so you didn't go wild with lust."
She smirks but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"You're barely safe as it is."

***

I go do my job for a while. She sits and watches the crowd. A couple of guys make plays but she shoots them down. She's never accepted a come-on once that I've seen. She always makes the first move if she sees something she likes. I tell of the staff to take over for me and sit down across from her with a bottle of Glenkinchie. I pour us each a glass. She makes the polite appreciative noises about my choice. I flaunt my knowledge of single-malt whiskey. Then she nods towards my arm.
"Why'd they do it?"
I shrug.
"'Cause they could, I guess. Some people don't need reasons."
She studies the bottom of her glass like it might hold the answers to mysteries of the universe.
"When it was happening did you ever think of killing yourself?" she asks without looking up.
I nod even though she's not watching.
"Yeah. Once. No, more than once. But I'm kinda a stubborn bastard. If I did that that means they won."
She looks up and grins at me like I've passed a test.
"Don't ever let them do that. They'll grind you into the dirt if they know you're weak. I've been there."
"I figured." I admit a little proudly. "You sorta know after a while what to look for."
The guard goes up behind her eyes for a second then she relaxes again.
"Why'd you scar so badly?"
A few memories come back and I take a long swing to push them back. I don't freak out anymore but that doesn't mean I like to think about it.
"Repetitive injuries. Slow healing."
I lean back and look her up and down.
"You came out okay. Tough as nails and totally gorgeous."
Damn. I must be feeling the booze to say something like that.
She smiles but then I'm sure she used to being complemented.
"My scars don't show, that's all."
I hold up my glass.
"To surviving. The fuckers won't bring us down."
She laughs. "And they'd better watch their backs."

***

We talk about everything and nothing for the rest of the night. I find out she travels a lot and works with a bunch of people from school. She doesn't tell me much about when she was growing up but I find out she was messed up pretty badly by her guardian for a few years. I offer to run him over with my car and she laughs. I tell her about school and the useless councilors.
Eventually, the lights come on and the crowds go home.
She gets off her barstool and stands unsteadily on her black stilettos.
We've finished the bottle so I'm a swaying a little myself.
"Hey, Marty?" she says softly.
"Yeah?"
"My name's Illyana."

***

The End.