James Hart, AKA Lemon Reaver, kicked a can on the floor as hard as he could.
"DSE $*%$ing took everything that wasn't nailed to the floor!!!!"
He tried to throw a table across the rather empty bar, but since DSE didn't take it it was part of the floor. The room itself was pretty big for a bar on a star liner, but then again when crews are on long journeys with little entertainment that's to be expected. Even the bar stools were gone, not to mention the alcohol. Well, the Reavers on-station had already drank most of it (and started more than a few brawls) before they bought the damn place, but they could've left what little remained. But no, had to take everything.
"Jimmy, calm the hell down. We'll fix it." Kall (Silver) Reaver looked more amused than anything. As if the challenge was the whole of it. Her comm beeped and she answered it.
"Kall, they took everything they possibly could. I swear, they ripped the nav controls right out of the wall."
James looked around, ran his hand through his 5 o'clock shadow, muttered a few more curses, then said something about going to place an order for a could thousand crates of Jack Daniels.
Kalliste disconnected the comm and looked at the empty space,
and at James, swearing at something in one of the corners.
She smirked and went outside.
Thirty minutes later, banging was heard at the entrance of the bar,
and James peeked outside to see what the fuss was about.
A sweaty Kall greeted on top of a ladder,
finishing up the positioning of a giant holo screen that was the size of the whole door.
[color=#FFCC66]"What's this?" Lemon asked.
"You can't have a bar without a sign, can you?" Silver replied.
"Some say you can't have a bar without tables either." He quirped back, still cursing inside his mind.
"Well, maybe this will brighten up your day." She said as she jumped down the ladder.
She stood at the entrance alonside Lemon and with a solemn voice she said:
"Let this be the beginning of a very old bar and a lot of booze. People, today's soup is Whisky at the Blood Money Bar&Grill."
She clicked a button and the holo came to life.
Welcome to the Blood Money. Today's soup is Whisky, everyday. And here are some rules.
#1: No guns. You bring a gun into this bar, we reserve the right to let Silver choose a death for you.
And for it to be broadcasted through out Coronado, and to whatever is your family.
Reavers are exempt of this rule.
#2: You pay your tab. You don't get to walk out with booze or bar appliances to pay.
#3: If a brawl happens, the Reaver Merc. Co. will deny any participation afterwards it.
So.. If your hand was broken by Lazuli or Lemon, you were drunk at the time and certainly were imaginating things.
#4: Sh** happens.
#5: In case of urgent medical treatment, please head to the back of the bar, to the Clinic for treatment.
#6: You got a problem with a Reaver? You're in the worst place possible, bubba. And that means we get to kill you.
#7: When a Reaver decides to kill you, it's gonna be horrid. It's gonna be messy. And you can bet it's gonna be fun.
And with that, Silver's comm beeped again and she smirked while reading it.
"Supplies and crew are coming. We'll get this joint up and running in no time."
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop
Standing behind the bar, You call this a bar, Silver? yelled Ethan, Where the hell did the booze go? Lemon turned around, "DSE $*%$ing took it!" Ethan frowned, They took their women too?
Not waiting for an answer Ethan walked around the bar and kicked a worker who was setting up a table, There is a crate of Gallic wine on my Sabre, go get it monsieur. Turning his comm unit on he walked over to a view port over looking the planet the Armstrong orbited, I need some women. Corsair, Chrysanthemum, and Libertonian in particular. Pausing for a second while the man on the other end spoke, I don't care how hard it will be to get them here, I want them here yesterday.
Turning from the view port and looking at Silver, You fancy Corsair women right?
Two days afterwards, and an immense credit spending, the bar was complete.
The pole for the 'exotic dancers' that Ethan wanted so much, old Earth 20th century style booths, a small corner stage for whatever may happen when someone is drunk enough, a bar counter with a custom made shield for whenever fights were happening
(you cannot leave the bottles and the bartender unprotected) and in the middle of that, a small holder for a bottle, completely secure against everything.
Holo-screens to show off whatever was in the SiriusNews or other channel, and state-of-the-art security modules and scanners to insure that no one would try to ruin the place.
That made a lot of mouths go "What the f*** is that for?" but Kall never said why as she smiled back.
Jack O'Reilly, ex-Molly, ex-Rogue, ex-who-knows, with a lot of years in his eyes walked in and looked at Kall while she looked at the finished up bar.
"'S'cuse me, miss. Ye'r Silver?" He asked.
She turned to look at the newcomer and put out her cigar in a nearby table. "Mr. O'Reilly. Welcome to the Blood Money."
Kall walked up to him and shook his hand. "You come looking for a job and you're clean by our sources.
So, the counter is there, the rules ain't much, and for Reavers, booze is on the house. Any questions?"
"Yeh. Waiters? And cannae pack me trustworthy shotgun, miss?" Jack looked around.
"Five of them. And of course. What's a bartender without a piece at his hand? Stock and all will be dealt by you. Just place the orders, the Reaver Merc. Co. will pay." She smirked.
"Alrighty. T'is a deal then." He nodded to Silver and went behind the counter to start his job.
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop
Aodh 'Lazuli' O'Malley was happy... About four things. He got chatted up by a target, shot the target, carried on getting chatted up by the target, and then claimed the money.
"... An' if that don't count as a good day, then I'm the queen f*%&ing mother." he explained to the newly instated barman.
O'Reilly nodded in slightly bemused agreement as he poured another Belfast Blacksnap and handed it to the beaming merc standing infront of him.
"I'm listenin' Aodh. Nay seen ya so happy since ya bu-"
"Where the &^$% is the sign that says Bounty Hunters need not apply?!"
James' voice rang out across the still rather bare looking bar. Aodh turned on his barstool and laughed... Loudly.
"Ain't bounty hunters ye got t' be worryin' about Jim. I'd be more concerned 'bout corsair supernovas."
Aodh wandered the few paces over to the table 'Lemon' was seated at and sat down grinning. He motioned to Kall to come join them.
"So what were ye doin' in that pod while me an' Kall made you rich, eh?"
James springs up and pushes Aodh back. "Hey, I kicked my fair share of ass that trip and you know it, some trippin' Corsair just got lucky! Where the $&#^ were you while I had two battleships and god knows what else blastin' my slow-as-molasses ship to bits?"
Silently, Kall listened to the banter of today's happenings. She smirked at hearing about her making Lemon a richer man.
She tapped the bar.
"Jacko, get me a glass of JD. One rock. I'm feeling hot tonight."
She said while looking at the two man arguing the fine points of the last run in Gamma.
O'Reilly threw the glass her way, already filled with that precious liquid. Kall sipped and walked gingerly to the boys table, and tried to defuse the whole situation.
"Now now, there was more than enough 'sairs to shoot at, and more than our share shooting at us. Not that it mattered."
Kall sat at Aodh's side and invited James to sit again.
"It was a good run, and we didn't lost anyone. Here's to us, boys."
She raised her glass in the air and the three of them toasted.
And then the new girls entered, in less than enough clothing, epileptic lights were on all around the bar, and decent music to shake one's soul and body.
While the eyes and mind of two at their side were drawn to the new.. show, Kall's smile only said:
"It's good to be a Reaver."
[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop
The door swung open and an average figure stepped in. Calmly he looked to the left, then he looked to the right, then he looked up, and then he looked down. God knows what was down, but he foresaw the need to look there. There was only one way to explain this poor bastard: Average. His features were average, his height was average, the way he walked was average, hell the way he smelled was average. In a very average way, he walked to the bar, sitting on a stool and drumming his fingers on the bar table.
"What'll it be, sir," The bartender asked as he cleaned yet another whiskey glass.
The man swept his average eyes up to stare at the blood-red menu that had now been projected in front of him. "Something of the usual," He said calmly, letting the bar know that his voice was average as well. "Just a beer and what ever is on the grill right now."
The bartender only grunted and walked off. There was the sound of arguing, the sound of toasting, and the sound of some man's face connecting violently with a floor. Or maybe that was his imagination? Who knew.
The only thing he did know was that he wanted a beer and something to eat. And this place was the closest.
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"
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