Brotherhood Bar-Talks

[Zelot]

Miguel walked into the dusty bar, slowly taking in the scene. It was the same place he knew so well, but... something was different, all the pilots in the bar seemed somehow, skewed, something was just not the same. Miguel walked up to the bar, nodding at his old friend Pedro, behind the bar. Sitting down, he looked at senor Alonso, a man who had seen so many young Corsairs come into this bar, fresh faces, not yet knowing the fate that awaited them.

"Pedro, amigo, what's going on?"

Pedro slowly turned around and picked up an old dusty bottle, as well as two short rocks glasses. Turning back toward Miguel, Pedro blew the dust off the bottle, Miguel found himself watching the dust slowly dissipate into the air. Looking back down at the bar, Miguel found the two glasses filled with a familiar brown liqueur. He took the glass, and took a long sip of the whiskey, Pedro doing the same.

"Amigo, so many things are going on, where does one begin? Miguel, it is bad I tell you. The AW are at it again, The Molly's and Britonians are making some kind of peace, which will only lead to more of our boys dieing in the Omega's, the usual business with the Outcasts, and now it seems like the three houses are pulling the Corsair nation apart at it's seems. I never see our boys coming back here, high off of the adrenaline of victory, loud with song. Hell, they barely come in at all anymore, damn man, think about the last time you was in here, It's been months hasn't it?"

Pedro took another big sip of the whiskey, feeling it burn it's way down his throat.

"Amigo, I tell you, there's a sickness in our people, and if we don't figure out how to treat it, oh Maniaco, that will be the beginning of the end for all of us. It's a bigger threat than the Outcasts, the AW, and the Keepers combined, and it all comes from within."

Miguel looked down at his drink.. "Pedro was right" Miguel thought to himself, taking another sip of the earthy brown liqueur. "Pedro, how would you fix it?" Pedro smiled and let out a small laugh, "Oh amigo, I don't get paid enough to have idea's on things like that." Pedro then, still chuckling finished the rest of his drink, and walked back into the storeroom, the sound of his laughter still echoing in the bar.

Miguel was left sitting at the bar alone, looking down into his drink as if somehow, the answers he was looking for, were somewhere there, just below the surface of the whiskey.

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