Tony and Cleop Act Zero Scene Three

 

Act Zero

Scene Three

We were allies.

 

The defenders of the warehouse code, named Seven, looked at the boys gathered there. They had numbered seven of them; it was peace time, although the boss told them to be on the alert for any fights.

“Heck, Boss. We are stretched from this warehouse and down the row. Five of it, and we are only seven in the number of boys.” Darius the Spaniard told Menas.

“Yes, I am aware. In normal times, no one will touch the warehouses, but now we are at war with the Romans. They will come anytime.” Menas told them. “Or their allies.”

“Romans? Are we not friends too? I just had my siesta with the boys from Fifth Street. We had drinks and senoras. They did the salsa for us. No one got killed.” Darius smiled. “We are all brothers.”

“It may not be for long. Pompey Jr had the truce called but he is still here. He had no given up the ports to Caesar. That means at any moment, we could declared war on them. So, hitch up your pants and get those real guns ready.” Menas said.

“I got Tommy here.” Darius displayed the Thompson machine gun with the round ammo clip of fifty bullets. “He will fuck anyone trying to get me. I am the fucker, not the fuck.”

“So, Darius. You are...” One of the boys was to say something nasty.

“Screw you, Ian. I am not a faggot like you. Me and Tommy here are a pair of threesomes with the puta.” Darius patted his gun.

“Okay, back to work.” Menas then took off. Darius arranged the patrols.

“We stay together—all seven of us. They do not deal with the Magnificent Seven or end up dead with seven holes.”

“Seven holes, Darius. I only have the revolver. It holds five bullets.” Another of the seven voices.

“There will be seven holes when you shoot him. The other two are already there. The puta already has three holes, so you saved on one bullet.” Darius laughed.

It was no laughing matter when the raiders did come that night. They cornered the seven at the warehouse while the other raiders moved the goods from the warehouses.

“Puta, how come I was not advised on their strength?” Darius was upset. “We are outgunned by three to one.”

“They are Parthians, Darius.” Ian shouted. “Not Romans.”

“Fucking nobodies. They got licked by the Romans, and they snatched the opportunity to steal our goods.” Darius was upset. “Hey, Ian. Did you see any tongs out there?”

The Tongs were the Far Eastern gangs.

“I do not see any. Are they involved?”

“Maybe so. They hated us for hoarding the ports. Hey, Ian. Did you pay for your laundry?”

“Pay? No, I never did.” Ian replied.

“Well, prepare to have more holes in them than your crotch. They will leave the iron on the shirt or pants.” Darius laughed. He then dove down from some shots fired at his position.

“Darn, they shoot better nowadays. It must be their determination to remove us.”

“Hey, Darius. Are you sure they...” Ian was cut short by the bullet that penetrated his brain.

“Ian shot.” The others called out.

“He is not getting his starched shirt then. He is starched for good.” Darius laughed. “Tongs will arrange the funeral rites for him; gongs and wailing.”

“I do not know what they wail about.” One asked.

“One less white dog to contend with. Burn to him more Hell money so that he can repay them when they die.” Darius mocked the ritual.

“Darius, I am on my last bullet. Can we surrender?”

“Only if you want to be a eunuch for the balance of your life.” Darius called out. “Let us show them how the Magnificent Seven fight.”

“We are short of one." That call was ignored by Darius, who was charging towards the Parthians. He made it past the three pillars before he was given extra holes. He died without knowing that his last effort killed Pacorus, the leader.

Of the six of them, three survived with minor wounds. The other two were fatal and died while waiting for the battle to be over. The survivors were taken hostages by the Parthians, as requested by Mark Antony. The Parthians pillaged the goods there.

“Mother of God, how can they display such lewd pictures of women on the walls? One of the victors saw at the Admin Office.

“It is alright. She is not your sister.” The other replied, and a personal feud was to begin. Family insults were not intended, but someone had to make the mistake of intending them.