Hope's Haven ~ A little taste of Gallia

[Gabriel Gray]

*Sylar stop smiling and says*

- "No, Mr. Corruth, I will do this..."

*Sylar twitches his hand and kicks Michael, Michael flies away and bumps into wall and stays hanging, held by coat holder*

*everyone at the table rises, and Patrick pulls out his gun points it towards Sylar* *Sylar raises his other hand, making a "stop" gesture, but Patrick fires a few rounds at him*

- "Not the smartest thing to do..."

*as they take a look at him, they see none of the beams hit* *he now twiches that hand and kicks Patrick, who gets pushed few meters back, knocking down some of the chairs and tables, and finnay falling on the floor* *Sylar turns his attention back to Michael*

- "Now, back to you..."

*Sylar starts walking slowly towards Michael, pulling a knife from his jacket*

---

[Banza]

*Michael panic and start screaming.*
Noo! Noo! Stop! What are you doing!? Wait! We can make a deal!
*Michael tries to free himself, and his shirt tores so he falls on the floor.*

[Gabriel Gray]

*Sylar smiles*

- "For that which i need of you, you must be dead."

*He starts raising the knife toward Michael*

- "Hopefully, you will be more useful in death, then you have been in life, Shean..."

---

[Banza]

*Micheal with panic voice*
Wait! Wait! I'm not Shean! I'm Michael! Shean is my brother!
He is my annoying brother.

[Gabriel Gray]

*Sylar stops, and lowers his knife*

- "Michael you say... You wouldn't be lying to me, would you..."

---

[Banza]

I swear... Please... Ask them!
*Points at Annie, Phily and Liam.*
*Liam says.*
Yes, this is Michael. How didnt you recognize him. He is Michael the Butcher.
*Micheal nods*

[Gabriel Gray]

*Sylar looks at Liam, and then back at Michael* *he approaches Michael, smiles, gives him a hand and helps him get up, and then says, smiling*

- "I... Appologise... For all the mess..."

*Sylar turns around and starts walking toward the doors*

- "Good bye, Mr. Corruth..."

*Sylar rises his hand, and the bright shining light appears, blinding everyone in the bar* *when they looked toward the doors, Sylar was no longer there*

---

[Banza]

*Barmen runs to the table.*
Whats all this? What happened here?
*Michael does not answer, but he runs to fainted Patrick, and raises him on the table.*
*He slaps him few times to make him wake up.*
*He takes a glass of beer and pour it into Patricks mouth, and Patrick wakes up.*
Michael... You mentioned some gold.My head hurts.
*Michael looks at him.*
You appear to be allright.
*Michael looks at the barmen,and says:*
Four more beers to this table!
*Patrick looks at Michael.*
Wont you warn your brother?
*Michael waves his hand.*
Nah,i never liked him anyway.

[Captain]

Liam: who the hell was that sylar, next time we need to see who's
getting in and out of this bar, damn we had 2 strangers in a week both waned to kill one of our lads

anyway, Its christmas in the rest of the house so, lets decorate this bar,
hahaha
micheal: aint it HO HO HO?
Liam: thats what I said, Ha ha ha
merry christmas, lets kill them all after christmas(baf)

---

[Derkylos]

It was another quiet, run-of-the mill sort of day at Belfast Production Facility. Trade convoys came and went, the occasional flight of Warewolves would streak across the view screen on red-blue contrails. Within the control booth, the duty officer rested his feet on the nearby desk and took a quick swig from his strategically-placed bottle of rum.

All of a sudden, a warning 'ping' resounded from the scanner. Leaning across, he noticed a rather large contact, possibly a destroyer-class vesel, closing on the station. Swinging his feet off of the table, he called down "Any of our destroyers on patrol, Arthur?"
A grizzled face turned towards him, and the man replied, gruffly, "Not that I know of, why?"
"Well, something's just cropped up..." Saying this, he reached across and hit the emergency button.

Klaxons sounded throught the base, pilots rushed to their ships and gunners to their stations. A flight of Hyenas shot out of the main hangars, headed for the new contact. All eyes strained to make out what was approaching. In all minds, similar thoughts: "Had the BAF finally come? Had they decided to launch a strike in an attempt to retake the facility? Or worse, was it the Corsairs? Come to destroy it and kill all within?"


Very cautiously, the 4 light fighters approached. Their leader flicked his comm button and broadcast a short-range transmission to the incoming vessel "This is Molly patrol to unidentified vessel. Submit your designation. Faliure to comply will result in you being fired upon and destroyed." His sensor readout was recording a Zoner IFF, but he was not about to take his chances. All too often had so-called "Zoners" attacked Molly vessels. He shifted nervously in his cockpit, awaiting a response. Should the unidentified vessel be hostile, there was very little chance his fighters could dent its shielding.

At first, all that could be heard was static, and the gun crews on Belfast, feeling a little jumpy, were itching to open fire. Then, the static subsided, replaced by a voice, "Dis is Captain Rashida o' da Zona vessel 'Da Gremlyn'. We's 'ere on account o' an invite from one," she paused for a moment, "One...Mistah Keey-Latch? Did I say dat right? Cap'n o' da Balee Afa Cliaff, I finks. Anyways, 'ee said dis 'ere was one o' da best bars in Sirius, so I fought I'd come ta find owt."
"Gremlin..Gremlin...aah, yeah...that was over a month ago!!!"
"Well, a girl 'asta take 'er time, dontcha know? An' dere's a lotta galaxy ta explore."
"Eeh, I suppose we can 'ave a look at ya...moor up, then, I think there's room..."

Several minutes later, Rashida entered the bar. As soon as she walked through the door, a hush settled over the patrons. Many frequented the bar, but this was something new. Standing in the doorway were three of the most unlikely-looking people this side of the galaxy.

On the left stood a tall, slim woman. Her long, white hair reached halfway to the ground and she was clad in matching white robes. her well-proporioned face bore a look of absolute calmness as she surveyed the room, seemingly unaware of the multitude of faces turned her way. Standing next to her was a shortish woman, dressed in a shocking pink top and vibrant green trousers. Her hair was done in two ponytails, one of which was dyed a deep blue, the other a bright red. Her mousish eyes darted around the room, seemingly unable to settle on anything for more than a second. The final occupant stood slightly behind the two women, dwarfing them both and filling the door with his presence. The man was nearly seven feet tall, muscles bulging under his flesh. He wore simple, light garments and stood tensed, ready for action. Many viscious-looking items adorned his sizeable frame, and he looked as though he knew how to use them in a painful fashion.

The smaller woman strolled easly across the bar, taking in the surroundings. Arriving at the bar, she hailed the bartender, "'Lo, which un o' dese 'ere fellers bees dat Liam Kee-lach guy? I's guessin' I owes 'im a drink..."

---