So I've been biding my time for a long, uh, time. I hate cliches. I really do. A cliche is sort of like an old friend you've got hanging around and you can't figure out what the smell is then one day you turn around and realise it's them. And you say to them, 'Everyone thinks I smell and it's because of you'. And they say 'yeah but we're friends'.

Where was I? Oh yes, I'd been biding. Abiding. The days have been getting hotter recently so my cover job was getting more and more difficult. I've never been good at this hiding stuff. My scene is always bigger, louder, more bloody impressive to look at, you know? And here I am expected to cower before cattle, cattle that was lining up in larger and larger groups. Well, I decided. Well. Enough of this nonsense! Didn't they know who I was? No of course they didn't, that being the point of having a cover identity. But that was all about to change!

I leaped to the top of the hand-off plane, spilling a few drinks that had either been forgotten or perhaps the owners were expecting some feat of teleportation to make the drinks arrive at their table. That was academic though as the contents of the cups were now puddling at my boots.

Everyone in the place looked up at me. Silence reigned except for a bad cover of a John Lennon song coming through the speakers. And then they went back to talking about how much they could get for a baby's corpse on the open market and how much they'd force-fed themselves over the weekend or whatever that lot talk about. I've never understood them. Some woman tried to look past my legs to make sure her drink was being made correctly. Well this all had to stop, I decided.

I called for my second, Eeni the Dread, but then remembered she wasn't there that day due to something or other. I'm sure she told me why but I'm very bad at listening to people when they're not talking about me. Oh well. Being alone makes improvisation easier.

I drew my cutlass and with the same movement decapitated the closest customer. In the time it took for his head to hit the floor the place fell silent enough for me to hear the hollow thud of it hitting the tiles. Faces looked up in horror, some in indignation that one of my number would attack one of theirs. No one moved. But just in case I drew one of my throwing knives and threw it so it felled the person second closest to the exit. I was aiming for the one right near the door but you take what you can get, really. I mean I got the effect I was after, right?

"Anyone so much as moves towards that door will share the same fate!" I bellowed. Of all my obvious strengths I've always found my voice my favourite. "I am the pirate known as The Oates. Some of you made have heard of me, and to that I say all of the goddamn stories are true. If you don't hold your places you'll find that I lie not! Uh. Double negative, sorry. Look, just stand still!"

I leaped down from the from the bar and swaggered through the crowd. Even though I was shorter than most of the people standing around you could tell where I was by how everyone got out of my way. Sharp pointy things have their advantages. When I got to the door I kicked it shut, spun around and faced the crowd once more.

"If you do exactly as I say all of you will live. Except... except the ones I've already killed, but I am sorry about that, really. But except for those there will be no other casualties, you have my word as a... as a... dastardly bandit and pirate, yes."

I could see I was losing them at this point so I pulled out my musket and shot at the ceiling. Not right above me, that would be silly. No, I made sure the plaster and paint showered some others, but not me. I do know what I'm doing.

"Right! I need all your jewelry, all your cash. And especially all your credit cards. Silver, gold, platinum, I don't care! Form a queue to the registers and deposit everything in the tip jar. Once I'm convinced you're sufficiently lightened, out you go."

They started shuffling about placing the things I'd asked for into the tip jar, then onto the pile over the tip jar that formed as it filled. Then the formed another queue at the door and I started prodding them out with the tip of my cutlass.

"And damn your eyes, if anyone cancels their bloody credit cards just remember they've got your damned names on them. I'll find out where you live and then you'll find out just why they call me The Oates."

And then there was the getaway. Which I won't go into any detail with due to chase scenes being boring as hell.