Brotherhood Bar-Talks

[uspatriotsf]

A young but hardened looking man walks into the bar on Crete. Everyone recognizes him but he somehow looks different.

"How's it going AC, the usual?" remarks the bartender.

The man violently grabs the bartender by the shirt collar and pulls him close to himself. "Do not utter that name in my presence ever again... Do you understand me?!?" The bartender nods his head nervously. "The name is Torres, a Corsair through and through, I have forsaken my former appellation. You got that?!?" He releases the bartender with an abrupt and firm shove. The bartender straightens his colar, brushes his shirt and takes a step back, a look of fear and confusion in his eyes. "Tequila... and leave the bottle" Torres states firmly. The bartender then places the bottle in front of the man and walks away to attend to other customers.

Torres sits alone with his tequila and an anger and desire for solitude no one had seen in him before. He had been living here on Crete for some time now, and was friendly enough if somewhat crass. No one really knew his story or where he had come from, but rumors ran that he had formerly been a member of the Liberty Navy who had lost everything and everyone he cared about. Allegedly he had then turned to a life of crime. All anyone knew for sure was that he had shown up one day aboard a Coalition patrol and that he had killed countless numbers of Outcast pilots. You see, no one was quite sure why, but he had the most intense hatred for Outcasts that any Corsair had ever seen. For this he was now a member of the elite Brotherhood.

Another man wearing a similar uniform to his approaches Torres, "Whats with the hostility brother?" Torres looks up from his glass with a stern yet respectful glare, "That battle the other day with the f*****g SA. I am having some serious trouble coping with the fact that I only got one kill and had my ship destroyed in the process. I had used all my f*****g bats and bots on the G*d D**n nomads " He slams back the shot of tequila without even so much as a grimace. "I even went trophy hunting today to try and make myself feel better. I shot down at least one ship from each of our enemies and have their pilots in my hold right now, like I said... trophies. Maybe I'll go torture the Outcast, maybe that will help."

The other Brother shakes his head, "You got a kill didn't you?"

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then what the hell are you so pissed about? Now have another drink and you'll get em next time... OK?" Torres looks at him and then looks away as if to say "your right." He then lifts another shot, turns to the tables full of patrons and chants "Long live the Corsairs, death to all Outcasts, Brotherhood till death... HOOWAH." He then swigs the shot and slams the glass on the bar shattering it into pieces. The bar then erupts with cheers and machismo. The other Brother shakes his head, "What did I tell you about that s**t, you aint in the military no more."

"Sorry. By the way, when are we gonna go after those f*****g Ghosts of Ramallama... or whatever?"

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<span style="color:#FF0000"><strike>RETIRED</strike></span>
ON MY WAY OUT OF RETIREMENT

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