"Requesting permission to dock, vector 398, breaker breaker 9..."
"Boy, what are you talking about? Park 'er in an open bay and go spend your money at the bar," was the reply from control.
Dervin moseyed up to the pub with all the suave he could muster, which is to say, little. After taking another hit of Cardamine, he sauntered up to the bar. "Wine, cheap-" and it was in his hands before he could finish.
"I do be thinkin' that it's 'bout time I seen this place. Good service an' the like. Mayhap I'll be here more often. For now, I be plannin' on drownin' in me wine. Lemme know if anyone hollars for me, Keep"
Dervin sipped his wine loudly and thought about his predicament. He was a particular man. Not tall at 1.5m, he looked almost boyish. Not that age mattered at this pub, but he was 21. His manner was a ploy to keep him under the radar. The real Dervin was fairly smart and quick, but a dimwit drew less attention. Having almost joined the Lane Hackers, he was now addicted to Cardamine but had the smarts to match.
"'Nother round, Doc." Dervin angled the glass and watched the room around him through the reflection.
Best to keep to yourself until you learn a bit about your surroundings.
Damn Spatials John Mantral thought to himself as he landed his Greyhound on the heavily used landing strip of Alcatraz. He hopped out of the cockpit and headed straight for the stairwell, not bothering with the little man holding a cliboard and pen in his direction. I won't be here that long he thought to himself as he entered one of his favourite places in the Galaxy, the bar.
He took a table near the window and pulled a cigarette out from one of his pockets. He pushed it to his mouth and gave a sigh of relief. He had a massive group laughing at another table, tangled in deep conversation.
Neural-Typicals, i'll never understand them.
'What can I get ya? The bartender had walked over to his table.
'Just a Liberty Ale, and a bottle of Wiskey.'
'You got it.'
The bartender returned several minutes later with his Ale, Wiskey and a cup.
'Take the cup, I won't be needing it.' Mantral said before the bartender had even reached his table.
He glanced at the bottle and took a long sip, relieved to have some rest. Hopefully i'll run into another Spatial tomorrow.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
...Hubert Zlob was sitting at his favorite table closest to the bar, and drinking rum.
He has just returned from a Trade Lane, with 1 million credits more. He felt beautifully,
obviously the rum wasn't bad quality. He managed to survive another day at the Lanes.
His ship is intact, and ...mostly of all, he has the money. Yess...
So when this Outcast girl appeared at the bar, ordered whiskey and light up a cigarette,
with bored expression on her face, he just couldn't imagine something better can happen.
He finished his shot of rum, stand up, and went right at the direction of the bar.
,,At least, those ALG credits will be useful now..!" he chuckled to himself.
At the far table, mostly hidden by the shadow caused by the broken light in the area, John Mantral watched the lunatic backflip into the room and shout "I'm baaaaaack!" A few people recognised the individual, and soon the newcomer was lost in the crowd.
Mantral took another sip from his drink. Neural-Typicals. I'll never understand 'em.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
Ekky watched the guy do a backflip and nearly had a heart attack.
Oh God...He's back.
He drained his whiskey and clomped back to his room.
Zealot Wrote:Just go play the game and have fun dammit.
Treewyrm Wrote:all in all the conclusion is that disco doesn't need antagonist factions, it doesn't need phantoms, it doesn't need nomads, it doesn't need coalition and it doesn't need many other things, no AIs, the game is hijacked by morons to confuse the game with their dickwaving generic competition games mixed up with troll-of-the-day.
An old lad enters the dirty bar. As always he just orders a glass of water and walks over to the empty table at the window. As he sat down he grabs a little tin out of his jacket, opens it and puts two red pills onto the table. The tin lands in his pocket again. He spills down the pills with some water, coughs into his right hand and looks out of the window.
"Damn, that was a day" he says. A little asteroid bumps against the window, but Danny is more interested in the people sitting around him.
"Who is it doing this synthetic type of alpha beta psychedelic funkin'?"
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