The Night of The Delinquents

[qohart]

My motherboard got fried in a short but violent thunderstorm a week ago. The borrowed computer I am using is a dinosauer's 10 year old reject. I'm frustrated. So...I wrote a short frustration release piece. Enjoy

The Night of The Delinquents
by Cris Hart

Colonel Richmond glared at his agents. The two men had the decency to avert their eyes. Or perhaps it was self preservation that made them turn from the fire shooting from their superior’s eyes.

The Colonel took a step closer to the bars that separated him from the men and they from each other.

“Arrested!” he thundered.

James West, one member of the Secret Service’s top agents winced. He managed to stop his intake of air at the painful pulling of the torn flesh by his left eye brought on by his action.

Artemus Gordon, the other half of the Service’s top partnership swore he heard the bars rattle. In his mind it matched the rattling of his teeth and he clenched them harder to ensure they all stayed firmly in place.

Both heard the Colonel take in a deep breath and braced themselves for the next onslaught of recriminations.

“For public brawling?” Richmond’s question was laced with a good deal of shock and anger as well as curiosity. “Well?” his voice reverberated in the two agent’s pounding heads.

“Yes sir,” they answered in unison.

“Yes sir? That’s all you have to say? West! Gordon! Stand up!” Colonel Richmond shouted.

He watched as the two men rose shakily to their feet. They did not raise their heads, choosing instead to count the knot holes in the prison floor.

“West!” Richmond commanded and Jim’s head came up immediately at the tone. The Colonel’s eyes went wide. West had a laceration by his left eye that continued to bleed freely. More blood, dried this time, colored the area under his nose, the corner of his mouth and down the sculpted line of his jaw was a livid bruise.

“My God, man,” Richmond swore, “What happened?”

“He started it,” Jim retorted pointing at Artie in the next cell.

“I did no such thing!” Artie cried raising his head for the first time.

Colonel Richmond’s eyes were saucers as he stared at Gordon’s blackened eyes and the bruises which dotted his cheeks and chin. A particularly fine knuckle shaped bruise marred his mouth. A trickle of blood clung to his left earlobe.

Before the Colonel could ask any further questions, the two men were shouting at each other and making threatening advances toward each other even though they were separated by bars. Richmond caught the words ‘Arrogant’ and ‘Perfect’ amongst the curses being hurled.

“That’s enough!” he bellowed and his agents fell silent. “West, tell me what happened here.”

“He started it,” Jim put forth once again.

“I did not!” Artie countered yet again.

Colonel Richmond lost his temper. “Shut up! Both of you!” He glared hard and long at them, daring either to speak. Then in a calmer tone he said, “I’m going to ask you one more time what happened. And Do NOT say ‘he started it’, West, am I understood?”

“Yes sir,” Jim replied regaining his composure. “It started like this, sir…”

WWWWWWWWWW

“Boy am I glad that’s over,” Artie said as he and Jim left the sheriff’s office.

“Yeah,” Jim answered curtly, gaining him a questioning look from his partner. “What?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Artie shook his head, “You’re NOT glad this case is complete?” he questioned cautiously. They were both weary from this long mission and he did not feel like dealing with anyone’s anger or any other emotions for that matter, not even his own.

“Of course I am,” Jim snapped grumpily. He rubbed his left shoulder in a sore spot left from throwing a punch while twisting awkwardly.

Artie sighed silently. “Your shoulder still hurting?” he asked changing tacks.

“No,” came the terse reply.

Artie knew he should just let it go but he was as tired and as bad tempered as his partner. “Then why are you rubbing it?” he asked.

“I had him, Artie,” Jim turned to face his partner.

“No, he had you,” Artie corrected more calmly than he felt.

[qohart]

“I would have had him if you hadn’t stepped in and clobbered him with that chair. Didn’t you see me throw that punch?” Jim asked hotly.

“I saw you twisting out of his grasp and TRYING to throw a punch so I lent a hand. So sue me,” Artie fired back. “What difference does it make anyway? The guy’s in jail, case closed.”

“It’s a matter of pride, Artie,” Jim stated.

“Arrogance is more like it.”

“Arrogance! You were knocked out cold! Someone had to finish him off!”

“If I was knocked out cold, how was I able to smash him with a chair? Right in the knick of time, I might add,” Artie asked irritatingly reasonable. He was pushing the point too hard and he knew it.

“I guess you’re just PERFECT then aren’t you?” Jim was fuming now and the two men stood toe to toe.

“I never said I was perfect, but I WAS right in this situation, Jim.”

“You never say it, you just know it, is that it?” Jim knew he was being unreasonable. He’d been caught in the man’s grasp and for once had not been able to break free in his usual graceful efficient manner.

“If I was perfect you’d be praying to me every Sunday!” Artie shouted, losing his temper.

Jim swung before he thought, landing a solid punch to Artie’s mouth.

Artie fully expected to be spitting out his teeth so hard was the blow to his mouth. Instead he wiped the blood from his split lips and looked back at his partner. Jim was smiling smugly and white lights blazed across Artie’s vision.

Before he could sidestep, a large hard fist connected with the left side of Jim’s eye. He staggered back as he felt his flesh tear and blood gushed into his eye. ‘Has Artie always been able to punch so hard?’[/i[ he wondered. ‘I may never worry about him again.’ Even as those thoughts crossed his mind, he retaliated, socking Artie in the eye.

Artie reeled back holding his eye. ‘That’s going to be black,’ he thought. Something urged him to fight back and he threw another punch at Jim, landing squarely on his jaw. He received a left to his other eye in return.

They grappled and ended up in the dust of the street. Fists flew, connected, hurt. Blows to the face and torso and Artie’s knee to Jim’s groin highlighted the melee.

The sheriff ran out and pulled them apart with the help of the blacksmith. Their clothes were torn and dirty and they protested loudly even as the sheriff slammed the cell doors and sent his deputy to wire Colonel Richmond.

WWWWWWWWWW

“And here we are,” Jim concluded.

Colonel Richmond stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, and here we are,” he repeated then turned to Artie. “Does your account differ significantly from that?”

“No sir, that’s exactly how it happened,” Artie answered.

The Colonel uncrossed his arms and clasped his hands behind him as he paced in front of the cells. Finally he stopped and turned toward them.

“Am I the only one who sees how childish this was on both your parts?” he waited for them to answer. Neither man did.

“West, Gordon is your partner and as such is obligated to help you whenever he is able. Seems he was able and did. Do you agree?” he asked Jim.

Jim thought for a moment. He’d known before and during the fight that he was being unreasonable. He admitted it now.

“Yes sir,” he answered simply.

Richmond nodded. “And Gordon,” he began, turning to Artemus.

“Sir?” Artie asked quietly.

“Since when do you stoop to calling names and blaspheming?” Richmond wanted to know.

Artie pulled at his left ear then stopped as it twinged. “I don’t usually, sir. I guess I was tired and acted thoughtlessly.”

“So are you gentlemen, and I use the term lightly, ready to apologize to each other?” the Colonel asked.

“I’m sorry, Jim,” Artie spoke the merest second before Jim’s “I’m sorry, Artie.”

Between the bars they reached out and shook hands as Colonel Richmond nodded. Peace was restored to his world for the moment. He motioned to the sheriff who released his wayward agents.