+- Discovery Gaming Community (https://discoverygc.com/forums)
+-- Forum: Role-Playing (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=9)
+--- Forum: Stories and Biographies (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=56)
+--- Thread: The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor (/showthread.php?tid=11744)
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - Athenian - 09-04-2008
Sniffer examined the sandwich carefully.
"Plutonium?" he asked.
The hunter nodded. He held his Geiger counter to the pickle. The clicking became an almost continuous rattle.
"Plutonium," he said.
Sniffer frowned.
"And you didn't order it, right?"
The hunter shook his head.
Sniffer picked up the plate and walked into the kitchen. The droid was chopping onions. Glowing coolant leaked from a crack in the titanium breastplate onto the counter. The Health Inspector would go ballistic, unless....
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - Dra1003 - 09-04-2008
Bobafett looks at the man who bothered vettel.
Such a foolish man he thinks to himself.
another glass of sidewinder fang.
He finishes the drink and hands the bartender credits for both the glasses.
He then puts his helmit on and heads for the hanger bay
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - ProwlerPC - 09-04-2008
Special Agent LaRouche, stumbles in the doors.
Soot and burn marks still fresh from his encounter with OPG.
Tossing his trademark trenchcoat on the hanger he heads to the lavatory to clean up.
*what a day* he thinks to himself.
Coming out he sits at a table with his back to the wall.
"I need an 8oz New York strip loin, served blue."
"Right away sir" was the reply.
"Oh and please bring me my usual bottle of gin, thanks."
Looking up at the Plaque honouring a famous Bounty Hunter from an ancient past.
"Every dog has it's day I guess....."
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - Agmen of Eladesor - 09-05-2008
Max opened the door to the bar. Sniffer looked at him.
"What's the matter, deVirgo, you get hurt or something?"
"Sniffer, I'm not walking with this limp for my health. My ejection seat worked - just twisted my ankle getting out was all. Still better than Rush - he'll be in sickbay another couple of days with a sprained back."
"Yeah, I heard about that. I tell you what, those Corsairs are getting bolder and bolder all the time. So, the usual?"
Taking his seat, Max shakes his head. "No - I think I want some straight whiskey tonight. I'm not flying tomorrow, and after that vision of hell, I just need to get relaxed."
As Sniffer brings over his drink, Max' private com channel goes off.
"Who the hell is that?"
"Cousin, I'm glad to see that you're okay. Just remember that I may be your enemy - but I'm still family, and I won't be on the other side of the guns against you." The signal quickly cut off.
Sniffer looked at Max. "It's a long story, Sniffer. Let's just say that my family tree has some bad roots and leave it at that for the night. Besides, the Director already knows - that's why I have the job I have with the company."
Sniffer just shook his head - and then left the whole bottle. Max was going to need a LOT of relaxing tonight.
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - ProwlerPC - 09-06-2008
![[Image: felix-portrait.gif]](http://i319.photobucket.com/albums/mm447/ProwlerPC/Tags/felix-portrait.gif)
With heavy steps of exhaustion Felix leans more than walks into the door and slumps into the closest chair.
Sniffer looks up "Your'e gonna krinkle that fine coat you have there"
"Thanks, Sniffer," Felix replied without removing his red trenchcoat, "bottle of gin please."
Rolling his more recent memories in his mind *Corsairs....aggressive invasions of Bretonia......Phantoms.....*
"Sir! Your gin."
Shaking his head, "Sorry Sniffer here," and hands him his credits.
"If I may ask....Is there something troubling you Agent LaRouche?" inquired the now curious Sniffer.
"........Me...Nah. On the contrary, I'm alive, well and thankfull. I'm gonna be sticking around here for a couple weeks if you don't mind. Steel freshly pulled out of the fire isn't tempered until it's dipped in cold water."
Sniffer took a step back. Looked at Felix with puzzlment and walked away *What in the world is he talking about........Bounty Hunters, at least they have money*
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - Doc Holliday - 09-07-2008
For me, it'll be whiskey straight up or vodka over-the-rocks.
For my Klingon friends, all in I.K.S. tagged ships, they love their Blood Wine. Make it young and sweet and you will have friends for life.
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - Athenian - 09-07-2008
Sniffer examined the bottles on the shelf. He grabbed a ten year-old Jameson whiskey from Dublin, Vodka from a guy with a weird accent he had picked up on Freeport One. It was a pretty eclectic collection, even rum from Alpha and a rare Cretan Malt looted from a smuggler caught in south Cambridge.
He turned to the customer.
"Blood wine? Klingons? Sorry, muchacho, we ain't got none of that. You want a sprite?"
He hesitated.
"You want fries with that?"
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - SigCorps - 09-07-2008
APM Pilot Szerath Blackstone walks in and smiles
"Eveing Gentlemen"
His rumpled fight suit shows alot of wear and tear, seems he did not chage before heading to the bar.
Walking up to Sniffer he lays down a 100 credit chit.
"A round on me, business was good today, and I'll have some of that Cretan Malt you have there on the top shelf."
Szerath settles down on the stool and scans the room. Nodding to all the Hunters he waits for his drink.
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - Agmen of Eladesor - 09-15-2008
The stranger walked down the corridor. He saw the lights, and heard the noise. Curiosity about what could be going on pulled him forward. An old fashioned window in the front of the place allowed him to see inside. (He also noted that it was thick, bulletproof and laser absorbing glass, too, so that the patrons inside could drink and dine safely without fear of assassination from the corridor as well.)
He saw men inside that he recognized. They were the public side of the things - the few and proud bounty hunters of the S/D Agency. The camaraderie, warmth, and general cheer inside were quite apparent as he watched.
His face still, the stranger turned from the bar and continued down the corridor. Such was not for the likes of him. The shadows were where he operated, and where he would stay.
While he knew that the corridor was generally monitored by station security, he didn't know that 'Sniffer' had additional monitors set up as well.
Sitting at his usual table, Max saw the expression on Sniffer's face. He started to get out of the booth to get his weapon, because that look was normally reserved for guns being drawn.
"Sit down, Max, it's all right. I just saw a face from the past that I didn't expect to see again. I didn't even know he was still alive, actually. Have one on me, and remember our absent companions."
"Absent companions, indeed" Max replied, thinking all the while that, given the past, that there could be only one meaning to what Sniffer said. The Wild Geese were running again - which meant life in Sirius was going to get 'interesting' - like the ancient Chinese curse.
The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor - ProwlerPC - 09-16-2008
*Knocking at the Door*
*-------*
*Again a Knock*
"Enter!"
The server opens the door to Special Agent LaRouche's room. She finds him standing at his desk, apparently he cleared it off and is using as a work table. An assortment of tools clutter the desktop along with a half complete gun that Felix is working on.
"Mr. LaRouche your dinner is getting cold," the server piped in sheepishly.
"Sorry Marge, I get too focused sometimes. Please, I keep telling you; call me Felix," replied the exasperated Special Agent, "I am almost finnished here I'll be down in a minute."
"Yes Mr.... er Felix, I'll h-have your place ready downstairs," stuttered the server as she back peddled out the door.
Felix completes his gun and holds it up for inspection, "Good, at last. I guess it's time to go back on the field"
He looks over at his trenchcoat, it had been restitched with a flame resistant lining, "Yes I am ready."
He holsters his gun and drapes on his coat. Without any fanfare he marches out of his room.
A quick meal and time to hunt a paycheque