“And now, allow me to introduce Captain Randolph Arcturus Heracles Pettyfer Cain and his consort, Cassandra Ophelia O’Reilly!” The Master of Ceremonies announced, a quizzical look passing across his bushy eyebrows. Cain smirked to himself as he sauntered past in the full dress uniform of the Space Marine Corps. Cassie, clad in a long red ball gown that clung to her slender figure, swept past Cain, leading him to the dance floor excitedly.
“The names again? Can we not go out as us sometime?” Cain said nothing, just bowed to her as was the custom before a dance. “Max, why don’t we do this more often?” She asked as they began a slow waltz. “I mean, remember our first date? You took me to that bar on Alabama One, we had a few drinks…” Cain panicked. He didn’t have the foggiest, remembering only asking her. “Then of course, you punched the barman.” That he remembered. “You hit the other guy too, Rourke? Roper?”
“Royle. I remember that bit.” Cain had always had a problem with Oscar Royle, captain of the Madame Butterfly. A bear of a man, grizzled and hairy, whose dealings were as dirty as his thick black beard. He was one of those men who was always shouting, a booming Yorkshire accent that crashed into the ears of the people listening to him, which of course was everybody in an eight mile radius. He was never still, pacing and fidgeting with a thick cigar in his mouth, blowing heavy clouds of smoke into the faces of the people around him, towering over very nearly everyone. This was the kind of person that offended Cain. A man with no sense of honour or personal space, a disgusting creature who would sell you out as soon as look at you. All he cared about was getting paid, usually an extortionate rate for dodgy work.
On this day though, Royle had been shouting about a recent smuggling job that had gone south. “The Madame took a hit, so I’ve got Macuza working to get the thing moving. We’ve got the Reds coming up the hill towards us, so all the boys have the long guns out and ready to go. Then Paolo takes a hit between the eyes and goes down like the sack of shit he is. By this time the engines are roaring, the rest of us are piling into the cargo hold and Macuza’s got us in the air while the Banuans are feeding on Paolo. I tell you-”
Cain pulled his fist back, kissing his smarting knuckles. Royle looked up at him from the floor, waiting for his men to move to help him up, dragging him out of the heap on the floor. “You left a man to die.”
“What’s it to you?” That’s where his memory finished.
Cain looked at Cassie in her red dress and said, “I still don’t know what happened in Alabama One.” He lifted her arm above her head as she twirled around hypnotically. “Want to give me an insight?”
“It was bad. I wouldn’t recommend going back…”
And there we have it! Officially caught up.
The Idiot in Tin Foil