"Frank," growled a low voice, with a distinctive Hispanic, yet Italian accent, "I hope that you understand the difference between fifty million and fifty thousand. Do you understand this mathe-matical difference? Eh? Frank?"
"Frank" was sitting in on his stool, as usual, in the darkest corner of Buffalo base, where the lights in the ceiling above at gone out. Billy "Bones" Gordon, the bartender on late nights, was diligently scrubbing marks and stains off glasses that the unruly crowd had used only a few hours before. Frank glanced at Bones for help, but the man was more concerned with his glasses, raising each one up to the light after meticulously scrubbing them. Back against the bar table, Frank faced an olive-skinned man of medium stature, dressed in a loose beige suit. Behind him were three taller, gruffer men, wearing heavy black flight jackets, all with a distinctive black tube that hung from behind their ears and into their noses and two other Liberty Rogues.
"Frank? Are you listening to me?" asked the same, Hispanic-Italian voice. The owner of the voice removed a small, antique inhaler, shook it, and stuck the mouthpiece into his mouth. He pushed down on the small tank in the inhaler, and short, quick hissing noise was produced. The owner of the voice grunted, twisted his neck back, and felt the dim light of the room grow brighter as his pupils dialated.
Bones, the bartender, knew better than to interrupt. He was a fellow rogue, but he stuck his neck out for no one, especially when it meant that his neck would be in the way of men like Joaquim Dattaglia. The Maltese druglord ran a small time Cardamine operation in Liberty and Rheinland, and several of the Rogues of Buffalo were essentially his mules. Knowing a deal gone arwy was about to occur, Bones accepted the bribe early on, before Frank knew anything about it at all. Within fifteen minutes, Frank Loeter would be shoved into an airlock, regardless of what he did.
Dattaglia snapped his fingers across Frank's face. "Frank, my friend, where's my money?"
"Jesus, Joe, I'll have it by next week, promise, okay? Okay man? You cool with that?" murmured Frank.
Joaquim Dattaglia and several other similarly suited men behind him laughed. "You're a very funny man, Frank. Very funny. 'Joe?'"
The other men laughed. The bartender, Bones, did not. In fact, he found it disgusting, and tried to focus on his work. He had three more glasses to clean. Why did he clean so quickly? Bones cursed under his breath.
"Frank," said Joaquim Dattaglia, "I'll cut you a deal, you don't give me my money, and I'll toss you in the airlock, or you give me my money, and..."
Before Dattaglia could finish, Frank was off the stool and on his knees, sobbing. "Joe, aw cmon man, please man, I'll get you your money, please, just this once, man! Have I ever let you down before, Joe?"
Dattaglia did not respond, but instead, bent down, and grabbed Frank on the back by the folds of his jacket, and lifted him up back onto the stool. With a quick jerk, a fist appeared and sent two of Frank's yellowish white bones out of his mouth and skidding across the bar table. One of them landed in a clean glass that Bones just cleaned. Bones cursed.
"Never, ever, interrupt me as I am speaking," demanded Dattaglia, "My name is Joaquim, not 'Joe,' capiche?"
Frank simply sagged in his seat and cried, trying to hold back the river of red that drained from the open wounds in his mouth.
Dattaglia turned to the two Liberty Rogues. "Shoot him, and dump him in the airlock."
The Outcasts looked at Dattaglia expectantly.
"What are you waiting for? Get my Sabre suited up and ready," commanded Dattaglia.
The Outcasts smiled at each other. "Expecting a promotion so soon? You'll have to work your way back up, Senor. We trust you have the funds, we're just the escorts."
Dattaglia frowned. The effects of the last burst were wearing off already. "The things I go through for Mia...," he muttered, leaving with the Outcasts.
Bones, the bartender, sighed a breath of relief as he slide the last clean glass back onto the rack. Just as he sat down to relax, he heard footsteps.
"Yo man, did you see how I nailed that LPI?? Did ya see? Huh?"
Bones, banged his head against the wall. More cleaning before the night is over. He needed a new job.
Quote:[7:42:05 PM][6:51:36 PM] Igor (Smokey): btw terry
[6:51:48 PM] Terrance Cooper: Ye?
[6:52:00 PM] Igor (Smokey): nothin
[6:52:03 PM] Igor (Smokey): just sayin btw
[6:52:05 PM] Terrance Cooper: <_<
Quote:Johnny_Haas: you shot anti criuse speed rockets!!!
Johnny_Haas: but why????
Johnny_Haas: ??
Johnny_Haas: why you shoot criuse speed rockets?
