Just to save our ass till we get back home

[aerelm]

[color=#990000]10 Days Ago; Rochester Bar

"No gringo, those bastards scrapped the whole thing! Sure it still flies, but weapon systems and the powercore is fried! I mean, how are we supposed to fly back home without our asses gettin nailed?"

The stranger at the bar was saying to the bartender. It wasn't unusual for the regular type of drunkards to come here and start shouting, but this one was completely sober. People had learned to ignore all the shouts in the bar, but very few had also learned that if someone sober is shouting, there might be some business involved. It was old Ben's usual activity, to just sit at the bar and try to sell his salvaged guns to random strangers, but not many liked doing business with him, because most of the guns he sold were total scrap. Well, maybe he wasn't a really good Junker after all!

"I mean... Look at them! Shooting a single gunship with 2 Dreadnoughts, a cruiser and 4 freaking bombers? What kind of a place is this?" Ben kept listening to the man who was talking in a rather loud voice and aggressive tone. Even without turning around to have a look at the one talking, Ben could easily tell from the accent that it was an Outcast. 'Dente's not da best ship to fly round Libarty anyways!' Ben thought to himself.

"And even that son of a witch piece of Rogue in Barghest didn't help us! Pah, and I thought Liberty's a good place to roam around!" Ben shook his head with a chuckle as he heard the stranger say. The Outcast was new to Liberty, and Ben knew that, and he was left there with a Tridente that wasn't worth much more than a piece of flying scrap with nonfunctional weapon system and a fried powercore... Ben's best bet of the day, he was sure.

"Well, we managed to shake em off of our tail and get here, but how we're gonna get back home, only spirits know. Pass me a drink gringo..." As the Outcast said, Ben turned around and finally looked at the man a few stools away. He didn't look that old, but he already had a notable amount of white hair on his head and a scar on his face. Definite appearance of a combatant, Ben could tell. The small cardamine-mask near his nose made it obvious that he was an Outcast, if it wasn't already obvious from the accent.

"Oy mate! come 'ere." The old Junker finally spoke up. The Outcast - who was clearly confused - stood up after looking around himself to make sure he was the one who Ben just addressed and then walked toward him. "What do -you- want now?" The Outcast said in a rude tone, but Ben knew one thing - If there's a business, there needs to be manners for it to work, even if the business is not a 'clean' one so to speak. "Well... I heard somethin' bout you an' your bunch havin' some trouble with da ship, aye? Not like ah' was listetnin or anythin, you were justa bit too loud!" Ben said with a chuckle, and watched the Outcast as he raised an eyebrow and replied, "Si?".

"Well, I think ah have somethin' for you, if yer interested..!" Ben said as he stood up and walked toward the door, without waiting to see if the Outcast would follow, only because he knew he definitely would!