Brotherhood Bar-Talks

[Tortured_Soul]

Being stopped by someone is a rare and unusual occurrence in my life. This man betrayed no hint of emotion, no drained skin colour, no raised heart rate or irregular breathing. He was for all intents and purposes immune. Something was wrong with this man, he was not human or he was insane. Or both.

The brandy tasted awful. Bretonian, industrialised, **** in a glass.

The offer was appealing, but he remember the last time he had been offered a place in a group like this. Previously an upstart Outcast, his mind worn by Cardamine, had offered him a similar proposition. This Outcast had been of no consequence to him, or anyone in Outcast society. He had met his end, three second after placing a hand on my arm. Three seconds, the same time it takes to draw, charge and aim a plasma pistol. Right in the middle of a packed plaza.

"With respect pilot. I see neither comrades of yours or indeed friends within this bar. The SCRA pilot jeer you and throw insults your way and respond with silence and acceptance of such disrespect. No. If you were the leader of a any group of consequence, or an Elder of the Corsairs, then you would've done something to quell such disrespect long ago!"

Looking at the table across the bar, I drew the attention of the SCRA pilots who had been in fits of laughter moments before. Their faces were now solemn and utterly concerned with avoiding my gaze.

"Pilot, did you have something to say to me?"
"N-, No, sir!", he stammered.
"Were you and your friends saying something about me?"
"Erm, well, n-"
"Good, I suggest that you run along."

Looking back at Gentle, he could tell he may have been too honest with him. His face was flushed, embarrassed that I had moved on his aggressors with such ease and enraged that I had, in his eyes, under estimated his organisation.

"My final answer, is no. You may be immune to my aura, but those in your organisation would not. I make an exception by flying in groups with other pilots. In short, I work alone."

With that I brushed the almost full brandy glass to the floor and disappeared out the bar.

((I have left. That's the end of this story for now, I may return. Also, if you would mind not leading my character with dialogue or desicions. I leave it open ended for you to make your own dialogue and decisions, IE, I leave the glass on the table, it's your choice to pick it up and rink from it. Thanks))

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Initial Biography ; Running Story