As the rush subsides, and the song ends, the next track, also quite appropriate, shouts out from the corner. Eugen is in the midst of a punchup with a pair of the Terra IV's Weapons officers, and the new pilots are watching in trepidation. He appears to be doing fine by himself, although one who is a patron of playing fair might not approve. The man who strides into the bar next, thankfully, is not, and a good thing for Eugen it is too.
"Weise! I need them to run the guns, damnit man! Stop hitting them with tha' wee table, and get over here!"
At the sound of a voice heard by every man, woman, and child in Sirius, the bar goes completely still. Grand Admiral James McIntosh is a giant of a man, over six foot three and weighing in at a comfortable 250 pounds. Heavily modified by Coalition Engineers, with arms to rival a normal man's legs, McIntosh is a force to be reconed with.
"Boss! Good to see you back in port!"
Eugen drops the heavy oak table on his opponent's feet, and strides over to the Grand Admiral. Reaching to a nearby table, he hands a bottle of Vodka to McIntosh, and grabs another himself.
"What brings you down here, Sir?"
"Well, after a .65 round blew the leg off my desk, I knew that you had to be back in. I suspect that this Vodka will help ease the pain of finding a new desk..."
"Whoopsie! Sorry Sir! I thought they re-enforced the ceiling, or I wouldn't have done it!"
"You would so. Now Comrades, a Toast to the latest victims of Red Wing! Drink up, it may be your last!"
With that, McIntosh raised the bottle, and shouted with the rest.
"The Coalition! Get Some! Get Some! Get Some! Ahoooooo!"
Throwing the now emptly litre bottle into the faux-fireplace, McIntosh strode from the bar, a grin of pure evil plastered to his face.
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
