The Portside Embassy

[TheOrangeButterfly]

A man in his late twenties, earlier thirties walked into the bar. He looked ruffed up, as though he had just came off of patrol. He shook his head, sighing. Taking a seat at the bar he asked for a shot of whiskey. His depressed look spoke of wars untold battling within his mind, being prior Rheinland Military, his thoughts went back to a simpler time. A time when Rheinland wasn't losing on every side and revolutionaries weren't creeping into every nest and asteroid field. Then he'd remember that he was one of them now. One of those he once hunted for sport.

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