Durban Station Biodome: The Mad Mako

[t0l]

A small cargo-carrying station cart pulled up outside the Mad Mako, the driver engaging the vehicle's handbrake before hopping out, a suspiciously familar carbine dangling by his right side. Sighing, the man looked to his left, away from the bar's enterance.

This place again.

He'd hoped that his previous visit some year or so ago would've been his last, but alas, here he was again. A certain Mister Ravis, back on this god-forsaken station in preparation of another deployment to that god-forsaken planet. At least the pay was better this time around.

Tal sighed again, slipping his helmet off and tossing it onto the driver's seat of his cart, showcasing his fresh Gas Miner fade to all the passing bystanders. Once he rubbed the top of his head to clear it of helmet-hair, he set off into the bar, with one express mission in mind. Hopefully he wouldn't get sidetracked this time by some monkey-suit APM rep.

Carefully, maintaining good control of his weapon the whole way, he approached the counter, informing the bartender that he was here to pick up a crate of rations for his next Nauru excursion. The man behind the counter nodded quickly and left to check the backroom, leaving the Freelancer to himself.

With nothing else to do, Tal turned around, leaning on the counter with a hand on the magwell of his rifle, and noticed that the Mad Mako had attracted its usual crowd of weirdos.

Glad to see nothing's changed.

---