Flash Fic Redux - A Drink At The El Diablo

"All right, last rounds of the bright turn, Geylo. You remember who we collect from?"

The young Svethan family hood flashed a toothy smile at his superior. "All the businesses between Frame 20 and Frame 34."

"No exceptions?" the older gangster asked diffidently.

"No exceptions at all."

"Wrong. We stay out of the El Diablo near Frame 23. Never business, only pleasure."

"It's right in the middle of our turf, Vres!" Geylo protested. "Why aren't we getting our cut? Place is only run by a Terran."

"Yeah, but which Terran?" Vres gave Geylo a hard and discouraging look. "You do know who runs that place, right? And how the bar got its name?"

"No idea. To any of it."

"Pay attention, grubber, and you might live long enough to pass the knowledge on." Vres walked down the station concourse, Geylo walking alongside. "Back before the Terran Confederation established themselves in the system, this station used to be the nerve center for the Nine Circles pirate clans. The leader of the organization was a human, went by the nickname 'El Diablo.'"

Geylo snorted. "Ooooooh, so frightening!"

"It means 'The Devil' in one of the Terran languages. There's a holo on the wall. Believe me, I wouldn't want to pick a fight with him. Hard to believe he was human. Clearly abused a lot of combat drugs and performance enhancers. He was the meanest, nastiest, most vicious pirate in a two hundred light-year radius. Ran the Nine Circles with an iron hand.

"It was inevitable that the Confederation Navy would set their sights on them. And the fighting was intense. Over ten years, as Terrans reckon time, and it all came down here. The Navy wanted to take the station intact. El Diablo and the Nine Circles wouldn't allow a single Marine or Navy rating to step foot on the decksole and live to tell the tale. Story goes that Marine Raiders swept through the station, and the lead platoon came across El Diablo himself right in the bar. The same bar which we do not go into unless we're looking for a quiet drink."

The two gangsters approached the El Diablo, Vres slowing down. "The senior NCO of the platoon challenged El Diablo to a duel right then and there. Master Gunnery Sergeant Warren Maynard Draper. The Marines were more afraid of him than they were the Nine Circles, let alone El Diablo."

"So what? Swords? Pistols?" scoffed Geylo.

"Knives," Vres said softly. "The typical knife fight between humans is over in less than two minutes, Terran reckoning. El Diablo brought out his blade, Draper brought out his, and the two of them spent the next hour cutting and stabbing at each other. Draper finally won, and almost died from the blood loss. Proof that El Diablo wasn't just big and mean. He was big, mean, and damned good at physical violence. Pity he wasn't quite as good at it as Draper." He looked at Geylo. "We're taking a break, getting a drink, and nothing more, you hear?"

"Whatever."

Vres led Geylo into the bar. Behind the bar proper, a skinny looking man with slightly rumpled features was polishing glassware. "Afternoon, Gunny," Vres said cheerfully. "Thought I'd stop off for a drink before finishing work."

Geylo started to open his mouth to add something, then closed it as he saw the bartender's forearms. The wrists were unusually thick, and the skin carried a crosshatching of scars that spoke to considerable skill with a knife. "I'll have whatever he's having," he said meekly. 

(Originally written in r/humansarespaceorcs)