The Bar on Planet Crete is a spacious one. It is often used as an office (especially by the Brotherhood), but it's also the second home for every Corsair. They use every opportunity to stop by, chat to their friends, drink and from time to time join those massive sprees which always end up next day when they all get kicked out by the bartenders. These sprees always take place in The Boozer's Lounge, the darkest and loudest corner of the bar...
***
Pedro Maniaco has just returned from his mountain walk. He had to chill out after that disaster had been confirmed. One of former brothers has just deserted to their sworn enemies and it was the very promising one, Maniaco recruited a while ago. He tried to think of something else but it has been returning over and over again. And so he was just sitting there, silently drinking his beer.
But then he saw a friend sitting on the other side of the bar. They used to fly together in the times of the famous Corsair raids in Bretonia, but he then decided that piracy is the wrong way to fight against Bretonian government and took another path. "Remember, pirating a poor trader can make you some credits, but using that way, you only make the government stronger. You give them purpose." And Pedro had always been arguing about the importance of economy, and how it's crucial that they decelerate the trade.
Long time haven't they seen each other, so Pedro took his glass, and went over to him, hoping Ares recognizes him. What engaged Pedro's attention was the way he moved his hand when he was drinking.
Ares smiled at Pedro.
"Ah, you've noticed. I used to be able to hold a drink steady after a dozen pints..."
He clumsily lifted his beer glass in his black-gloved left hand and very carefully saluted Pedro with it. The leather gloves weren't surprising, he wore a lot of black nowadays. One of the first Corsairs to wear a uniform by the looks of things.
"I'm not used to my new arm, you see... some Hellfire pilot and two of his buddies decided to fill my cockpit with railgun shells. Heh, he was probably trying to get me back for the day before, when I wasted his ship right in front of their own gunboat..."
He downed the pint of beer then removed the glove from his left hand.
"See, brother? I'm pretty clumsy with it just now, but the medics on the 'Terra.III' say I'll get used to it. They also say it could punch a hole through a ship's hull."
He flexed his metal hand and continued, "I told them that they'd obviously never dealt with Titans..."
He stopped smiling.
"..on that note... I've heard that one of your Titan pilots has disappeared... lured away by Cardamine hallucinations, correct? That poison and its peddlers need to be obliterated. It corrupts the mind.
If I see him, he'll need all the drugs in the galaxy to kill his pain, brother."
Alexander stumbles out of one of the sprees.
"Hey guys" *hic*
Alexander stumbles over towards Ares and Pedro spilling his two pints of bear all over the floor.
Plaseing his arm around pedros neck Alexander said " Hey my lovelys do *hic* know what day it is?"
Pedro about to speek was intrupted by Alex.
"No? its my Birthday"
Alex shakeing his head and wipeing his eyes with the Pints still in his hands looked over towards a beutfull young Corsair.
Mouth droping and eyes as wide as a CD "Oh my God, Would u get a look at that ass"
Every one from the spree comes over and grabs Alex,
"Its your Favourt song Lex"
Jumping up and down waveing his hands in the air with the two Pints of beer still in his hot lil hands, started danceing to the music..
"YEAH!!", "Hey who the **** drank all my beer"
Alexander stumbles towards Pedro again,
"My good friend *Hic* im going to *hic* call it a night"
Trying to place the Beer glass on the table and misrbuly failing stumbles out the door.
"Err" *scratches Head*
"Wheres my Titan gorn"
"Ah hear she is"
An alarm gose off **BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**
"Ah nuts thats not mine"
"I wish they did all not look the same"
Being told to come back in side by the bar tender say,
"Master Alexander i cant let you drive like that, we cant afford to lose you"
"Ah *snoors*"
The bar tender picked him up and took him inside and placed him on the bed out the back. Wateing for him to sober up in the morning or some one to come and pick him up and take him home.
Juan Montoya looked at the wavering figure silluetted in the light as he jumped out of his Titan at the docking pad. He commanded it to lock itself as the figure made iits way towards the Titan. As soon as the figure touched the Titan, it started the archaic alarm that was installed on it.
The bartender rushed out, and dragged Alexander back into the bar, muttering somthing that Montoya could not hear above the constant din of the bar. Juan sighed as he realised that the figure being dragged back into the bar was his leader, Alexander. He proceeded to the entrance of the bar, following the scent of alcohol.
As Montoya entered the bar, he scanned the room, and found what he was looking for. Pedro, sitting in a dark corner of the bar, with a person that Juan did not recognise. He made his way over to the table, noting the confused expression on the stranger's face and the small grin on Pedro's.
As Pedro caught sight of Juan, he waved and Juan waved back. As the bartender emerged from the back door, with a slight shake of his head, Juan beckoned him.
"3 pints please, one for myself and for each of my friends here"
"Comming right up, Juan"
When Juan sat down at the table, he said in a slightly joyous voice:
"Pedro, mind introducing me to your friend here?"
After it was done, they began to gossip about the going's on of the recent days. Pedro largely stayed out of it, tapping his glass with a regular beat, while Ares and Juan got to know each other.
From afar, one could note that, midway in a sentance, Ares' voice dropped to a low whisper as he told Juan the news of Diablo. At this time, Pedro clutched the glass, and the crack of the glass could be heard as it shattered in his hand. Both Ares and Juan turned to Pedro as blood started to drip from his hand. However, Pedro did not release his grip until he realised that the warm trickle on his hand was in fact blood and not the pint that had been in the glass.
Despite Pedro's iron grip on the glass, with furthur examination, one could see that his hands were merely scratched, and nothing would become of it. Of course, the pain seemed oblivious to Pedro as he pondered in silence. Endless hours of flight had hardened the skin of his palm, to the point where it was as tough as leather.
For the rest of the evening, Juan had a small but noticable frown on his visage. Torn between the anger he felt at Jose Diablo and the sympathy he felt for Pedro Maniaco, he simply sat there, motionless, with the frown etched on to his features.
After a while, Juan said in a low voice
"You are honourable brother Ares, I just wish we could have met under better circumstances"
"Don't worry, when Diablo perishes under our guns, we will have more time to get to know each other"
"I look forward to that day Ares"
Ares tries to change the subject as he orders a bottle of Cadiz lager with a lime in it.
"Good thing about this robotic arm here is that these here beers help it run smooth! The genius that came up with that deserves a god forsaken medal!"
He looks at the mechanical contraption with a grin as he starts drinking again.
"Yuhuh, Revolution scientists at their best! Hehe..."
The bar is busy with partying Corsairs, and a few uniformed, but relaxed Coalition troopers. Their top buttons are undone... that's them relaxed.
The men and women are drinking heavily, singing even louder than usual.
A Coalition-uniformed man stands on a table raising a glass in a mechanical arm...
"This is to all the boys and girls that helped us show the Hellfire Legion how to keep a ship in order tonight! Cheers!"
The bar goes wild. Everyone has heard about that one. Multiple enemy fighters and gunboats destroyed, a victory for the Brotherhood and the SCRA. An all too rare occurence, with the expansion of the HEllfire Legion's fleet and plethora of allies. A rare occurence, but significant.
The party doesn't end for hours.
Maniaco was one of the partying members. They won, yes, but they lost a lot of fighters that day. A coordinated battle looks different. All the firepower must be concentrated on the strongest vessels and then later the fighters should take care of individual fighters. Yes, pilots of The Brotherhood still need a lot of practicing so the causalties aren't so catastrophic next time.
Juan Montoya saw Pedro, again, silently sitting in the corner and thoughtfully holding his glass.
"Oh, come on! What are you doing with that dull expression on your face?" he shouted, took him around his shoulders and led him back to the turmoil. "We have a party, don't you see?"
Brother Ares was just dancing on the table with his metal arm raised above, and he was slowly turning around, bowing towards and backwards. The view was so funny that Pedro had to laugh. The loud music, the alcohol and the shouting crowd quickly consumed his dark thoughts...
The next day was different.
Crete's amateur defense force had been horrifically mauled.
The pub was used as a makeshift hospital, an angry Ares stomping around, ordering about lower-ranking Coalition medics as they carried out their jobs.
"Why hadn't those pilots received adequate training!? Why the hell wouldn't they use our comm channel?! And who the hell are their superiors that let them fly in combat?!?"
He points at a random pilot, obviously fortunate enough to have survived,
"You! Make sure you've finished basic training with me before I catch you in space in your Titan! We can't afford another massacre like today because of general incompetence! The Asgard Warriors are too experienced for such foolishness!"
People are generally avoiding Ares now, as his fury shows no sign of abating.
Vengeance will have to wait. There are injured lying everywhere.
Pedro Maniaco slowly entered the Boozer's Lounge. Today, the Brotherhood lost a great battle against their sworn enemies, the Ghosts of Razgriz.
He sat down in the corner and shouted at bartender to bring him 3 pints of beer and 4 tequillas.
This night will be long...
Ares walks in with an almost-cocky look on his face, which quickly disappears after spotting Pedro Maniaco.
He sits across from Pedro and hands him another beer. Rather obvious are the medals hanging from his neck. He obviously doesn't really know what to do with them.
"Heard you lost big time, chief. Tell me what happened, man... Those Ghosts of Who-the-Hell-cares were giving me grief after shooting some Asgard Twerp in Alpha, but they didn't attack. 'Spose I'm glad, because there were plenty of 'em...."