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+--- Thread: "Francos" (/showthread.php?tid=149171)
"Francos" - oZoneRanger - 04-03-2017
A man walks into "Francos", a dark and dingy open 24 hours a day dive bar in Manhattans sector 13´s lower east quarter. The place smells like stale beer and cigarettes, the entertainment dancer is sitting on the side of a small elevated stage with a pole in the middle, looking at her nails. Towards the end of the bar, the man can make out a figure in the darkness, a profile of a face lit by a computer screen of a man who seems to be talking to himself as he types.
"...how can they not see what is going on..its a fracking conspiracy man..."
The man walks up to the bar, credits in hand to order a beer and a SecureNet access code. The only good thing about "Francos" was the fast and secured channel net connection. Most would agree, that the place was a dump, but the NetConnect was great. The bartender approaches.
"Yea, let me get a beer and 20minutes of NetConnect man" He passes over a Sirian credit 20Note. The man in the back of the bar raises his voice again, enough for it to be clearly heard.
"...How is it we got a Kusarian Leading the FREAKING LPI...someone tell me.."
The Bartender pulls out a bottle of Liberty Ale from a floor sitting refrigerator with a sliding door, pops the top and sets it on the bar catching the fact the bottle was foaming. He turns around and starts punching buttons into the register.
"What is up with the guy in the back?" The man asks the bartender, the voice in the back can again be clearly heard.
"What do you mean.....cant be considered contraband...Just who the..."
"Who? Tony back there?" The bartender finishes punching buttons and hits enter and starts counting out change. "Yea, the guy is on quite the bender man,a diet of Dublin Whiskey and Liberty ale will do that to a man...Hes been screaming for the last three days about some plot by someone against someone else, bla bla bla." He turns around and hands the man his change and a receipt with an access code number for the NetConnect.
"...Somebody has to do something....it cant go down like this.."
"...Yea...he as been all Frack this....and Frack that....blowhards in the government bla bla bla, drunk talk mostly, but then he gets really serious like someone is gonna bust in here and he says stuff like, the chief of police is a kusari spy and the Gallic are invading California, on and on, when the dude gets on a roll like this, he is pretty hard to stop, yea he has run off some of my best daily customers this week."
The man takes his change and the NetConnect code off of the bar. "and why don´t you guys just throw him out if he is such a problem?"
"...Mckay? Mckay? Mckay?...nothing...no balls....come on man"
"Well, I got three reasons" He grabs a bar rag and starts to wipe down the bar. "One, he is a cop with the LPI. Two, he is my ex-brother-in-law and I am forever grateful to him as ugly as my sister was that she got married at least once before she passed away. And three is the most important one, He owns the place."
"...I....I am Antonio Franco el Corrupto...Liberty Born and Bred...."
RE: "Francos" - oZoneRanger - 04-26-2017
Antonio looked over at the two men staring at him from the front bar. The distance, dim lighting and the alcohol blurred them out to where what he saw was two back lit shadowy figures. He looked back at the computer screen going over the communication chains. His paranoia jumping a notch or two since he picked up on the "Shadows" watching him from the shadows.
"...don´t know who I can trust.." he mumblesto himself, his fingers working the keyboard, he had been feverishly toiling away on something that he thought made sense, but that he likely would not remember the next time he woke up.
He feels a small vibration and hears a small chirp. He freezes, fingers on the keyboard, head straight forward looking at the screen, his eyes moving around the periphery of his visual field, trying to get a clue as to what and from where the next danger was coming. He feels the vibration again, and starts to tap and squeeze himself, his hands darting from one pocket to the next looking for the source of his anguish.
Several months ago, he had literally stumbled on to a murder scene. A murder still unsolved, most likely a professional hit, the kind of death that never made the papers. Corrupto being first on the scene got "Salvage Rights" to anything on the corpse that was of value. Low pay, high debt plagued most of the LPI´s officers. It was no secret that the Corporation paid its rank and file officers next to nothing, compared to what you could earn green flagging a transport full of contraband into Manhattan. A little unlawful seizure of property off of a corps was more about trophy hunting than about actual credits to be made.
In his "investigation" of the corpse he found a communications unit, and it was this comm unit that was requesting his attention. "No....No....not now...., I knew I should have kept walking...". He stumbles through his pockets almost frantically. "why don´t I just fracking mind my own business...." The alcohol severely hampering his thoughts, vision and movement.
Reality is perception. From Antonio´s point of view, all of his motions and moves were crisp and sharp, he was totally coherent and in control. Back at the bar, the bartender and the man with his change and code still in hand, look on at the sight of a man wavering back and forth in his chair to the point of, but never falling off, arms flailing about as if he is trying to put out imaginary flames that have erupted all over his body.
"You are telling me this guy owns the place?"
"Yeap, inherited the license and property from his adopted parents." The bartender finishes wiping up the bar, throws the rag into the sink, both men are looking toward Corrupto as he seems to find what he is looking for, a personal communications unit that he was now opened and is looking at a message he has received.
"But, in his defense, he is not all that bad, I mean I know he looks all shady and dodgy and drunk off his ass, but he is not corrupt, maybe a bit dusty but not dirty, he may bend a rule or two in his favor...sure... but he is mostly a decent cop, I mean it could be worse ya know, he could be a cop that owns a bar and stays sober all the time, at least drunk he is more entertainment than he is dangerous...." As he is reaching for a bottle to pour himself a shot, the voice from the back of the bar cuts the bartender off.
"...Do I look..... like a.... fffffffracking delllllllivery serviccce...."