//~MaGiCtImEWArP~
The bar was only partially busy. Most of the patrons wore standard Corsair clothing, mostly sitting at or near the bar, drinking and talking boisterously, in the fashion of a thousand other bars on Crete.
But four sat at a round table mean for a dozen or so in the far back, discussing things among themselves in a familiar way. There was plenty of rum on the table(there were Corsairs, even when working), but it was interspersed among paperwork and charts, and the men and women back there wore uniforms.
Ezio Della Francesca strode in, in a black mood.
He'd countered an Elder on foreign policy, and worse, insulted an ally. Hah, more like opprotunists.
And worse still, he had caved on his principles, and on a promise to the Junkers. A true ally too, not just some jumped-up xenophobic traders looking to get rich.
He'd follow Montoya and the Council in the end, but there was still a chewing-out to get through, and hopefully he could argue his points, maybe sway things a little.
He picked up one of the bottles on the table and flopped down into an office chair.
He had an odd streak of morality, inherited from his father. Innocents, gorramit. Probably children too.
He took a swig of the rum, then grimaced at the bottle's label before setting it aside. He had no idea when Montoya would arrive, and getting drunk wasn't the answer.
Sighing, he sat up and started into a pile of reports. Paperwork. Bloody paperwork. Who would have known? //~MaGiCtImEWArP~
gone four years, first day back: Zoners still getting shot in Theta :|
One nice thing about the X Shuttle is that it could drop like a rock without needing to indulge in the fate generally reserved for falling rocks. Also that it could float rather handily, if noisily. Such as in the fashion it currently was a safe distance from the streetside portal into the Brotherhood Bar.
Conner figured he has just enough time for the quickest of visits, the briefest of waves, the swiftest of swift toasts and just enough notoriety to make it through the doors and be on his merry way before anyone decided to throw a stool at him. Damned if he wasn't just about right.
A round for the gang was thrown onto the tab, enough premium Mescal and wine of varying hues was moved to the roof for pickup to pickle a Marduk and he signed his name on a panel salvaged from the Havanah back when blowing her up meant something.
He raised a glass before excusing himself to "repark" his shuttle.
To the best group of bastards this side of the other group! Hurrah!
Then he gtfo, booze in hold, shuttle burning like a burning thing as it screamed out of system.
A somewhat tall, familiar man steps into the legendary bar. He loosens the upper zipper of his flight suit and removes the glove from his right hand. Sees a few familiar faces around, but goes straight to the barkeep.
"The usual?", asked Don Pedro.
"Nah, it's fine for now, mate. I'm just going to relax. I've seen too much yellow today."
"Aaah, Rheinland?"
"Yeah, we got back with a speck of pure Silver, courtesy of the IMG. Flying The Boveda in and out of those asteroids wasn't hot, but it darn sure was hot."
"Sit down, Sky. You need a break."
"Aye, probably do. Rest of the crew is either at Villa Nubes or at Barcelona. I'm going to take the rest of the day off. I'll be in my corner if anyone asks."
"It is a cold universe until you know God as your Father, and then it becomes a home. Even the next life simply becomes the Father's house, home."
—David Pawson
Shadow lynx stepped out of the pelican and into the bar , the atmosphere was hot and filled with acrid smoke and drunken banter. "Una cerveza por favor" he asked the barman who promptly served him a glass full of repulsive looking green liquid. He downed it in one before asking for another "thirsty eh amigo" retorted Don Pedro amid the screaming engines of a crazed x-shuttle pilot exiting the parking bay.
"Im looking for anyone that might have known Paco Loradez" the barman stopped wiping the glass he was holding for a moment then composed himself and calmly said "dont know anyone by that name sorry". " de nada" replied shadow and made for the exit curious eyes following him all the way out.
A dog walks in to Bar. Bartender: Ai maldita, that's Roques dog again! I told him not to bring it here.
So beer and the rum'¦.
Average build and partly drunk man walks in. 'Hola hermanos, and to my best barmen. My drink ready?' Bartender: Here, senor Roque. How is senor Sandro? 'He is great'¦oh and i need to drink one for him to' Bartender: *smiles* Like father like son.
As he waited for his another shot he turns to his hermanos and starts to sing:
All the way, all the way, ahoy! All the way!
All the way of sirius the brave Corsairs!
We are drunk, we are strong
we dont fear to die!
Pay your meat or sell your bones
we are free to buy!
All the way, all the way, ahoy! All the way!
All the way of sirius the brave Corsairs!
We are proud we are known
We protect our name
we are one of the brave
familia Benitez!
All the way, all the way, ahoy! All the way!
All the way of sirius the brave Corsairs!
When its dark when its black
and death is on your way
be prepared, be awared
fearless The Black Sails
All the way, all the way, ahoy! All the way!
All the way of sirius the brave Corsairs!
When its hard and needs some more
hermanos to break through
or to make Corsair wishes
glorious The Brotherhood!
All the way, all the way, ahoy! All the way!
All the way of sirius the brave Corsairs!
Cut the crap gringo
and turn a way around!
You have nothing to look here
we cohonas have!
All the way, all the way, ahoy! All the way!
All the way of sirius the brave Corsairs!
Machete stands up from his seat and walks towards the man,
leaving half his meal of spareribs behind.
He patiently waits until his song is done and tries to show a friendly smile.
''Viva!, you have a good voice señor....'' Machete holds his sentence a bit awaiting the man to reveal his name.
The man just stares at him and takes a sip from his drink. ''Well, I know your face....
You fly alongside our patrols sometimes si?''
Machete walks back to his table, and picks up a rib from his plate.
In a friendly voice he say's ''Heeeere perro perro perro" and throws the rib to the dog's feet.
The dog starts to waggle its tail and starts eating.
Roque stands proudly and, with respect to his Honored hermano.
"I am honored that you remeber me Senor Machete. Yes, i have patroled alongside you and other brave hermanos. And i will allways try Senor. Now i have some skills, just shout my name and ill be there...i promise that"... waits a bit to see his reaction, and continues "I am Corsair Senor, its in my blood"
Turns to his dog
"Dont eat to much Bretie you will get youre bones tomorow"
Usual day in bar, drunk, hunting chicitas, drinking, talking about past days of Corsairs. Bartender Pedro doing his job. Watching, laughing and little jelaous off quests for needs, but Pedro as Pedro he is, as every bartender info man, hermano. Benitez something shush in the corner, Sails drunk talking about free space around Cadiz, watching as all other Corsairs, as one the main The Brotherhood, what is wrong with Sirius. Questions are did they fall down, did they do all what they can, did they put theyr noses under the bar, or the Sirius is weak and there is to be new Galaxy movement? Do we need to go further into space?
In that point! Roque Sabas enters the bar and smashes the bottle of Rum at the wall on the end of the Sairbar. Empty of course.
The bar commented "ai caramba his drunk again"
"What in Demonio esta pasando aqui? What is this chat about? You are one of the freightters of the Bretonia, and Rheinland, and you talk about situations in Sirius? I dont know you that way! I did not come here for chat! I entered this bar when you ware a CORSAIRS! What are you now? I love the times of calling us Cannibals, you know that situation. Doesnt matter how did we got that name, but now i feel that we need to keep that name, and i dont care if its get you on the nervs or not! Our lost brothers Outcasts dont give us a treath any more...they are lost. This is our chance! Hessians are also lost, Bretonians making the war with Gallia. There is nothing to keep us away! Are you HUNGRY? We depand becouse of some traiders we make for enemies? What are you? I am not one who was born here! On this cliffy world. Be what you have been! Lets Ride! Let the Sirius be one that can shout for fear in the name of Corsairs! We have Liberty now. What keeps us from stoping to live like we allways wanted to live?"
Fingers drum on the counter top. The bartender looks annoyed at the constant beat, but the eight glasses next to the noisy drum sticks keep his mouth closed.
Checking his clock, LePew see's it is well past the time he was to do the meeting. With a sigh, he orders number nine and continues to drum.