Welcome to Pulse. Situated at the base of the central tower of the Commune's headquarters on Malta, Maleth Acropolis, The Pulse is a favorite leisure area for Commune personnel and visiting outsiders alike. Open 24/7 and filled with occupants at all times, the club truly comes alive in the night time, as smugglers, freelancers and seasoned pilots return to dispel the accumulated anxieties of a day's work. Though the patrons that visit the establishment are usually far from pacifistic in their outlook, incidents are rare, the peace being tightly maintained by dedicated security forces posted at strategic locations, always ready to act in case spirit-fueled passions erupt. As such, all patrons, with the exception of higher ranking Commune personnel, must relinquish their side arms upon entry.
The club is divided into three sections, one ground-floor hall, with a relaxed bar-type setup, with staircase access down to a larger subterranean nightclub with a dedicated dance floor. The third section is above the other two, a secluded VIP area with restricted access, usually frequented by Commune higher-ups and guest dignitaries that court or are being courted for their favor. The bar is stocked with enough common liquor to keep a small space station intoxicated for a month, but most visitors prefer the more expensive, cardamine-infused variants of popular drinks, synthesized and produced at the Acropolis itself.
Current Setting: The nightclub section is starting to blast music and people are populating the dance floor. The bar section is sparsely populated by nondescript patrons sitting either alone or in groups of two, drinking and keeping to themselves. The VIP area is empty.
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Straddling on a chair by the central bar, with his hands over the stand, Hussaini fiddled a pen between his fingers. He sat mostly immobile, occasionally glancing at the bartender and the patrons in his field of vision, but not caring enough to turn around and look behind him. As the bartender reached him, he straightened up and sat properly, put his pen into his pocket, then leant back onto the bar stand, with an ambiguous look on his face.
"What'll it be today?" The hoarse voiced bartender asked while cleaning a glass.
"Orange Venom. With ice. Shaken, not stirred." Hussaini dictated like a robot while he tapped the bar stand with his fingers, almost as if playing the piano, while slightly swaying with the music.
The bartender turned his back on him, and started preparing the drink, the ice audibly hitting the bottle, then the various liquors, followed by the sound of whooshing liquid as he shook the cocktail. Turning around again, he firmly placed the glass on top of the stand and started pouring slowly as Hussaini placed a few chits on the table, one by one.
"Thanks." He nodded as he picked up the drink, and the bartender nodded back while pocketing the payment, then walked away to tend to the other customers.
Hussaini held the glass at eye level, observing the clear orange liquid before he took a sip. He grinned for a moment as the biting flavor hit his tongue, then burned down his throat and into his belly. He put the glass back down and swung his chair around, now facing the bar entrance. He pulled out his personal PDA from his vest's inner pocket and scrolled through the contacts quickly, before stopping at Nomak's profile. Location: Malta, it said, an infrequent occurrence at best. He tapped the display and typed in: "Swing by Pulse. Drinks on me."
Hitting send, he quickly returned the PDA to his pocket, then swung his chair back to its original position and leaned against the bar with his arms again.
While Hussaini was enjoying his drink, after a minute, he heard a beep from his PDA. "I'm on my way to Malta already, I'll see you there in around 10. Don't get too drunk before I arrive, alright?" was what Nomak sent him.
About 10 minutes later, Nomak arrived at the club. He greeted with the guards that were standing around the door and were chatting with few other individuals, and he then headed for the bar. He approached near Hussaini, and he looked at the bartender, without any word. The bartender returned with the same expression, that was neutral. He nodded slowly as he took out two smaller glasses and filled them with some drink that had a golden color.
They both took a shot, and they both reacted to burning sensation that they felt at the moment. It was intense, it was like fire in their throats. They called it Dragon's Spit, and it was something that Samarrans brought with them as they were escaping from there.
"Very good. Another, please" - Nomak said as he lighted up his cigarette. - "Good to see you back, Overlord. I heard that the operations in South were successful" - the bartender replied as he filled the glass and returned to his work around the bar. Nomak then turned to Hussaini with the tired but happy look and asked: "How are you, brother?"
"You know me." Hussaini glanced over to Nomak, a smirk on his face. "All work and no play. I spend so much time in ZeroSec and the Penthouse, I don't think anyone here recognized me when I walked in." He shrugged and looked at his drink, then ran his thumb over the glass' edge.
"But don't get me wrong, I think it's a refreshing change." He grabbed the glass and downed it in one go, no discomfort registering on his face, despite the burning sensation in his mouth and throat.
Putting his glass down, he turned more towards Nomak, this time looking straight at him, with one elbow on the bar stand. "What about you, what have you been up to?"
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