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Russell Hunter walks up to the bar and sits down, orders a sidewinder fang, and watches the latest news updates.

"Say Richard, wadda think of this 'Gallia' place everyone's ranting and raving about?"

"I don't know, all I know is that they hate us for some reason. So, haven't seen you in awile, hows the IMS coming along?"

"Okay I guess, the two people that were above me went missing, and so did our reasercher."

"Thats gotta suck, so whos leadin ya now? Some young hotshot that thinks hes better then everybody?"

"No, that would be me."

"Ah, well.....good luck with that"

And with that, Richard turns around to tend to the drinks.



// As it says, there is no rules here...just don't kill me...

If this place really had no rules as the guy thinks, someone would surely get hurt, or missing.

Outside the bar windows an outcast smuggling ship, likely carrying a large load of illegal drugs moves to dock with the Freeport

A pilot walks in, high and sits down at the bar. Toying with something under his pocket the pilot speaks to the bartender but looks to the table.
"I'd like a drink, obviously, todays been a bit of an inconvenience, so don't hold back with the strong stuff"

As the pilot sips his drink he looks about the room for the first time to see who he might run into.

Tired looking man walks in. Black leather jacket that - judging by the look of his face - probably hides some firearm. Old, tattered, blue jeans and heavy duty boots makes him look a bit like some Pittsburgh dock worker. Scars on his face, some of 'em looking pretty fresh, suggests he isn't the hiding and running kind.



He walks to the bartender, quietly orders a bottle of cheap whisky and sits near the end of the bar.
Slowly drinking the booze, he lights a cigar and looks around the bar.

A woman sitting at the L of the bar watches the newcomer's arrival. After he's placed his order she says to him. "Oi, ye be lookin' like ye done been put away wet after bein' rode hard and the cat draggin' ye in."

She takes a drink straight from her whiskey bottle and adds, "Dun reckon I seen ye 'round here 'afore, not in the last week or three no how."

Ronnie turns his head towards the girl. It takes him a while to translate what she said into something he could understand.
"You bet I look bad, sweets. Just got podded by one of those damn LNS dreads. Some miner buddy tractored me in and happened to fly this direction. So... well... I'm waiting for one of my pilots to pick me up."
He takes another few gulps of his whisky.
"But where are my manners? I'm Ronnie"

A dark figure, hooded. Dressed all in black, walks across the room to the bar. Sitting down on a stool, he points at the shelving indicating to the barman what drink he wants.

"You got a voice, stranger?"

-Silence-

The figures head moves closer to the face of the barman, one finger rises to his lips.

"Sssshhhhhhh" he whispers.

The barman could only just see the face through the hood. Then a look of recognition crosses his brow.
"I know your face." he says quietly, "Why the secrecy, there would be plenty of people happy to see you back. After all these years, you finally got out eh."

The figure takes his drink, swigs from the bottle and turns to survey the room. Full of the usuallcrowd, no-one he could remember. It had been a long time, but not that long. Long enough he supposed.

"I`ve been away." he croaks,"I`ve been a very, long way away." he says, "Too long."

Putting the bottle to his mouth, the figure drains it and places it on the bartop. He stands up, and walks quietly out without another word.