Tea Time With Bass and Sax
Since my first story, Emara and Worrin, was such a nice hit, and since I can never stop dreaming up scenes for more storylines, I guess I've no choice but to put the pen to the paper once more in the name of furries and Yiffstar! This story will explain why I named the series the Chronicles of Bass and Sax, since that might have confused a person or two last time around.
Anyways! I've recently wanted to try giving a shot at a sort of desperado romance, a lovers on the lamb thing, you know? Tell me if you want to see more of Bass and Sax, or if you want to see more of Miss Emara from the first story! Without further adieu, and I know I spelled that wrong, here is my second story for Yiffstar submission, Tea Time with Bass and Sax!
ADDITIONAL NOTE: His name is Bass, like the instrument, not like the fish. That just sounds rednecky... -_-
One last thing! I haven't got any Yiff planned for Bass and Sax yet, but if people wanna see, please feel free to comment!
Welcome to Barren Flats!
In this world of sand and small towns, crime and heists are a common occurence, to the point where the people have begun to cheer on those souls of bravery or stupidity who choose to defy both the law and its agents. Bandits form groups and gain reputations among the masses, sometimes numbering up in the realm of fifty or more thieves in a single den.
Currently, by count of the League of Bountymen, there are roughly thirty to fourty of these groups in the area they monitor, an enormous barren desert where money is scarce and gathered tight, and bandits swarm to take a claim of it. In fact, one of these bits of wealth was under watch this very moment, by a Labrador strongman and a Wolven Gunslinger.
Maybe I'll steal her too...
I bet I will at some point or another...
His dark brown eyes wandered over her body once more. She was very shapely, a sleek gray wolf with few worthy comparisons. A wide-brimmed brown hat covered one of her emerald green eyes, the shade making the other glow as it wandered around the room. A sleeveless vest covered her torso, having no attempt to take attention away from the cleavage of her upper chest. A black cape was over her back, which draped all the way down to her feet, which were wrapped in white cloth so the claws could still be used. He saw no holster clipped to the belt about her waist, so his worries were slim to none.
It took a bit of conviction on his part to not look yet again to the black safe behind the guarded counter. If you look at it too much, the guards will come closer, it was a simple system. It was three feet by four feet of two inch thick steel, packed to the brim, so it was told, with coins the size of your palm and gems as big as one's eye. To anyone else, there would be no way to even concieve of stealing it.
But he was confident he could. He stood about six feet tall to her five and a half, and his muscles were clearly visible where his arms came out of his large cloak. His feet were covered by heavy boots with steel toes, and his fists were wrapped in cloth which were worn by years of fighting. He wore no hat, letting his ears catch every sound they could, the sun slightly glinting off his Labrador black fur. It was clear he was a bruiser, and barely needed the shotgun he had concealed in a pocket of his cloak. In less than half an hour, it would be time...
But there was still time to wait. In boredom, and also in flirtation, he leaned forth from his own seat and asked of the wolf, "And your name would be...?"
"It'd be better not to tell," she whispered, keeping her face turned, "There are people who'd be interested to know where I am."
"Join the club," was his reply, "Not like they scare me."
"It ain't fear, hun," she said, almost offended at the notion, "It's an annoyance, if anything."
"So I won't get to know your name?"
"Nope, but you'll get a hint," she said, finally turning to look at him with one eye, "In about twenty minutes, you're gonna wanna be gone."
"Why is that?"
She smiled and pet his head gently.
"Wouldn't want a big ol' sweetheart like you getting hurt, now would I?"
"Nothing can hurt me, sugar, don't worry yourself."
Ten minutes to go...
"Don't matter how many push-ups you do, a bullet can hurt anyone."
"And what's a girl like you doing that's involving gunfire?" He asked, now getting deeply curious. Her face seemed familiar to him as he looked it over across the small wooden table they were at.
"Now you're asking too much, and I'm not much inclined to tell," she answered, flicking her own gaze at the clock. Seven minutes left...
"You know what, big guy, I guess I can tell you one of my names. It's not the important one, anyways."
She extended her hand outward over the cups and glasses.
"My name's Sophia," she said with a smile, "Sophia Miraz."
"Is that a fake name?" he asked, shaking her hand.
"Nope, it's just not what most people know me by.
"And what name is that one?"
She smiled wider and pet him again.
"Aren't you a curious one! But again, I can't tell you, and in a few minutes you'll never see me again, so it won't matter much to you."
Three minutes...
"I'd be very grateful if a good looking woman could trust me with her name," he hinted, checking the time through the reflection in her eyes as she took a glance.
"I wish I could, sweetie, but it's hard knowing who to trust or not. Tell you what... if I see you on my way out, I'll tell you, okay?"
One of the guards began to move off. In two minutes, it'd be time to go for it...
"I'll take that, Miss, thank you."
"Now, what would YOUR name be?"
He decided that it would be safe to give up his own little known title.
"Bartholimieu Brands, at your service."
"Then do me a favor, Mister Brands... and get out of my way."
A gunshot rang out and one of the guards fell to his chest, blood dripping out of a wound in his back. The remaining security took a stern look about, weapons raised, but couldn't find the offending firearm. Another shot went out, and a guard shouted, "It's her, in the cape! The gun's hidden under it!"
He went to fire, but the large Labrador kicked the bottom of the table, making it fly up, intercept the incoming fire, and then crush the guard into the counter behind him. A gun was raised at the muscley hound, but a shotgun round caught the shooter in the chest and put him down.
"How's that for a favor, Miss Miraz?" he grinned, turning with gun over shoulder to look at her.
"Don't waste time bragging, move!" she shouted, leaping over counter and barricade to the safe. She went to put an ear to it to undo the combination, but a second later two huge hands lifted the entire thing up over her head. With a wide mouth and wider eyes, she looked up at the Labrador in awe.
"Wow, you're a strong one!" she whistled as he began to jog toward the door. She leapt after him quickly, refilling her revolver on the move as one or two more guards took useless shots at their retreating backs.
They exploded through the front door of the building with the sound of a siren in the background. Bartholimieu tossed the safe over his back and turned to Sophia for guidance.
"I've got someone waiting on the edge of town!" She shouted, turning him in the proper direction, "Run, if you can!"
To her further awe, he could still put down some decent tracks despite the safe on his rippling back. Making sure her weapon was filled and her cape was draping the ground, she ran after him with swift, quiet steps.
A few authorities came from an alley onto the dirt street they were running on. Before they could even take shots, the wolf's revolver had taken them down, and in seconds more was reloaded. This town is pretty lightly defended, she thought, a little too easy for comfort...
A few more came up behind them, and she was now faced with the hard task of firing backward while running forward. She took a few attempt shots, but she missed by what she considered a mile. The retalitory shots hit the dust under her feet, making her yip slightly in fear, an impulse she could never truly master.
"Get on the safe and shoot from there!" The Labrador barked at her, still putting an impressive piece of dirt between him and the pursuers. Hesitant for a second, she jumped up and onto the cold steel, taking aim and this time taking down the guards behind. To her amazement, he didn't falter a step even with her weight added to his burden.
"Right behind there, Muscles!" she said, pointing to a small, worn out building. Without a word, he turned himself around the corner and began sprinting toward a carriage that appeared there, with two gunmen on the top. One of them leveled a rifle at the Labrador, but Sophia shouted out, "Cool it, Scrat! He's with me!"
"Trusting a stranger, Sax?" the old-looking wolf replied, "That's a new one."
"Sax?" Bartholemieu replied, hefting the enormous safe minus her into the carriage, "THE Sax, who took out ten men with rifles using a revolver?"
"The same," the said, bowing slightly from atop the vehicle, "Scrat, Lingo, I'd like to introduce-"
"Bass," He said, waving a bit up at the fox and wolf atop the carriage, who were in matching short sleeve brown shirts, capes, and hats like Sax's. The wolf had in hand, as I've mentioned before, a long, thin-barreled rifle. The fox had a large-looking handgun gripped in his orangey fingers. Their eyes went a bit wide at the name.
"The guy who can break down a steel door with just his foot?" Lingo whistled.
"You're looking at him."
"Hey, you're all under-!"
A rifle shot silenced the voice as it came about the corner.
"I do believe we should be getting the hell out of here," Scrat said softly, cocking his weapon.
Sax went atop the carriage with the other two and Bass took the reins, spurring on the horses that dragged the vehicle. When they got moving, he took the shotgun from his cape and tossed it up to the three on top. The dust rolled up like a curtain behind them as the wheels churned out over the landscape.
"So Sax," Lingo said, turning the rim of his hat up a bit, "How'd you run into Bass himself?"
"He was just sitting right there in the lounge, helped me out when I started the heist. Ain't he a sweetheart?" she cooed, patting his head for the third time that day. Her hands were very smooth and supple...
"I was planning to heist it myself, you know," He responded, nuzzling a bit on her hand with his muzzle.
"And you're getting brownie points for splitting, don't you worry," she smiled, "Sax doesn't forget anyone who helps out her group."
"What are we gonna do with him when we're done divvying up the gold?" Scrat sighed, laying back on the roof of the carriage with his rifle across his lap, "Not like we can just let him go."
"Then off him," Lingo seethed, "He'll rat us, I know it."
"Who says?" Sax replied, crossing her legs and arms, "I bet he'd be a fine addition to the team."
"Addition?" Lingo snarled, "No way in hell I'll let-!"
"You'll let me?" Sax laughed, "I believe I lead this team, for one, and I saved you and Scrat's lives to get you on. And this big lug," she continued, petting Bass yet again, "Saved mine, AND got us the money, not to mention showed off some decent skills. I say he's on."
"I vote with Sax," Scrat yawned, "We've run into bountymen in the past, not gonna hurt to have one more, right?"
"This guy could BE a bountyman, I say we-!"
"Lingo, my little lovebird," she smiled at him, "Are you trying to toughen up cause you're afraid the new guy might take my heart away?"
He responded with silence and turned his eyes to the dust cloud behind them.
"That means you're on, Mr. Bass," Scrat said to the Rotweiler, "Good to have you and all that jazz, it's an-"
A loud gunshot took a piece of wood from the back of the carriage. The horses yelped and began to sprint harder. Sax groaned in annoyance and took up her weapon.
"I knew that was too easy the first time around!" She sighed, trying to find what was shooting in the dirty cloak over the ground. Looking hard, she could see the shapes of four or five horses, with riders, trying to keep up. Scrat and Lingo were instantly on the sides of the carriage, all armed and ready for the incoming conflict. Slowly, one of the riders came forth from the cloud, shouting to Sax.
"Miss Sax, you're under warrant from the League of Bountymen! Stop the vehicle now, and you'll live!"
She laughed aloud at the messenger.
"I've told you people before, there's only one man who could ever take me down, and I can tell he ain't here!"
A gunshot was the reply. The rider attempted to fade back into the cloud, but A well-placed fire took him down. A few moments later, the remaining four came out, two to each side, trying to pincer the carriage. Bass let the reins go and armed his own weapon, but didn't fire yet. He couldn't bear the chance of hurting an animal trying to kill an enemy...
But his enemy had no such conflict. He took a shot that whizzed by Bass's ear, and Scrat took him out in return, a cut through the heart.
"Stick to the horses, Muscles!" he crowed, cocking his rifle in one hand, "We'll handle these Bounty Leaguers!"
In less than another minute, they were indeed handled. Sax came down next to Bass, patting his head with a smile as she pointed to the horizon.
"Look carefully and you'll see where Sax keeps her dogs penned."
He set his eyes out over the sprawling expanse of desert, and saw a miniscule blip where supposedly they were. Turning the horses ever so slightly, he set down the reins and turned to his new compatriot.
"Now, if I may, how did you come up with the name Sax?"
"'If I may,' No need to church up how you talk for us, Mr. Bass."
"Then answer my question."
"Hmm?" she started, then snapped her fingers, "Oh, that one! Let me see if even I can remember..."
She crossed her legs and put a fist under her chin, looking up to the sky.
"I suppose it was when I was little, some little boy always called me Sax for no reason I can place... when I took up thieving, and needed an alias, Sax came right back to me."
Turning her head to him, she continued, "Now, how did Bass come into play?"
"It was an old townhood fighting name," he smiled, thinking back, "We'd have man on man fistfights and give nicknames to people who fought well. Bass always sounded deep and strong to me, so I went for that, simple but imposing, don't you think?"
"It works you perfectly, sweetie," she replied, laying back tiredly.
After a quiet moment, Bass asked, "So, who are the League of Bountymen?"
"Just that, a gang of Bounty Hunters who get paid pretty to run after people like me," she answered, "They say they're the best, but they're fodder to me."
"Everyone except that guy you said could outdo you... who is that?"
"He's not in the League, don't worry," she yawned, "His name's Desert Hawk; he used to be the leader of the gang I was with, but he turned away and gave me the group. He's never used a gun, but he's more lethal than I'll ever be."
"How can he be so badass without a firearm?" Bass asked in a come-on-now manner.
"Just trust me, he can be."
"So, he fights barehand? I could take him," he grinned, flexing one of his substantial arms.
"First, he doesn't fight barehand, and second, he could whip your well-toned ass around this desert and back if he wanted to."
"No one can touch Desert Hawk..." Lingo seethed, nearly to himself, "It'd be unwise to even think of trying..."
"Then it's a good thing he's not on anyone's side right now, isn't it, Lingo?"
"Where'd he go?" Bass asked with tilted head.
"Just sorta wandered off, no food, no water, right into the sand. No one knows what happened, but we're sure he's alive. At least, he made it out of our territory alright. We never found anything saying otherwise."
"Interesting..." he shrugged, looking at the now rapidly approaching little bunker in the sand. Now looking closer, he could see a small shape near the entrance pointing and jumping excitedly. He was pointing at the approaching carriage, an obvious fact given the abundance of nothing in the sand surrounding them. At the sight, Sax smiled and began to wave.
"They never fail to welcome me home..." she sighed, then laughed, "A bunch of Romeos, if ever there were."
"How many are there?"
"No less than thirteen," Scrat answered, "Now fourteen counting you."
"I've seen bigger gangs," Bass said in a tone that implied, 'but not many'.
"It's a bit runty since the League has something like three hundred," Sax admitted, "But they need to cover the whole of Barren Flats; we just need to worry about us."
"There'd food and water, right?"
"Food yes, water not so much; a good deal of alchohol, but not much water."
"A good deal of damn good alchohol," Scrat smiled, "We can booze you up but good if you need it."
Bass smiled, and began to slow the cart. What looked like a teenager sprinted up beside it and jumped on, shouting, "SAX! You're home!"
She pet the feline boy, who wore only brownish pants, and smiled.
"OF course I'm home! Didn't I promise I'd make it back?"
"Yeah, but-!"
"And doesn't Sax keep her promises?"
"Yes, ma'am..."
She pet his head gently and turned to Bass.
"Rookie, I'd like you to meet our new member. This is Bass."
The cat extended his hand and Bass shook it, gripping almost past the wrist with his massive hand.
"Bass, this is Rookie. He's our lookout," she continued, scratching his head lightly, "And one of the cuter members of the group."
"Good to meet you, Bass!" he smiled, "What's your deal?"
Bass went to answer, but Sax cut him short with a sudden, "He's our new strongman. Lifted up that whole safe in the back by himself and could still run like you dream of."
Rookie went back to inspect the safe in question, and returned with wide eyes.
"I couldn't even budge it! You can lift that big thing, new guy?"
The carriage slowed to a stop as the door was achieved.
"In a second, you'll see me do it again, I'm pretty sure," Bass smiled, leaping off the vehicle, glad to be rid of the bumping sensation of rock and sand under the wheels. No sooner had he turned to see the den then a large group of bandits, mostly men, but two women, had already emerged to welcome back their leader.
"Heya, Sax!" A puma shouted, his accent very slightly Jamaican, "Who is the new guy?"
"He looks strong!" A falcon followed up, looking him over.
"Back up, give him room!" Sax shouted, raising her hands to eye level to urge them away, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm honored to announce the newest member of our esteemed gang, Bass!"
"Bass himself?" someone asked, to which Bass replied, "The same."
"Isn't THAT a lucky catch!" Scrat smiled, leaping down from atop the carriage beside the Labrador.
"What does he do?" A black-furred feline woman asked, walking a circle around him.
"He's the strongest man I've ever seen save Desert Hawk himself," Sax replied proudly, hands on her hips.
"Stronger than me?" A large, muscly tiger sneered. Sax nodded with no hint of hesitation.
"Okay, introductions," Sax blurted before anyone could delay it further, "Bass, I'd like you to meet...
"Sage," she pointed to the falcon.
"Jackrabbit," and now the puma.
"Cobra and Viper," pointing to the black furred cat and a white furred one, "They're sisters...
"Maw," the muscly tiger.
"Long-eye," she pointed to a reptillian man.
"Trip-Wire," and now what appeared to be a humanoid spider.
"Valiant," a large, gray horse.
"And Fireball," a snake with an uncomfortable grin on his face, the scales white on underside, black on top.
"Now what do YOU all do?" Bass asked as the group began entering the den in slow procession.
"Sage is the mind behind us," Sax started, "Jackrabbit is a sprinter and impressive hand-to-hander, Cobra and Viper are assassins, Maw is a strongman, Long-eye is our sniper, Trip-wire is our trap-setter and detector, Valiant is a handgun and riding expert, and Fireball... obviously our pyro."
"Don't forget us!" Rookie yelped, indicating himself, Scrat, and Lingo.
"Of course, little guy," she replied, petting him once, "I already said Rookie, Scrat is a Rifleman, and Lingo is a handgunner like Valiant."
"As I was saying ealier," Scrat shot in from behind, "Welcome to the group and all that jazz, it's an honor, Mr. Bass."
"It's an honor to be part of the group," Bass smiled, putting his hands behind his head as he walked, "I think I'll like it here..."