-With Zigeris ignoring Doctors orders to discontinue piloting his LSF bomber, Zigeris's injuries have gotten worse. After yet another wreck he was taken to the Medical center for surgery. Due to Cryers new medicines and highly skilled surgeons the old injuries mixed in with the new were mended quickly. Zigeris left hand and ribs are still broken, speaking is hard for him so he takes short breathes, often causing him to hyperventilate. Zigeris looks around at the people seating at the tables, and finds his normal seat empty. He approaches the table and proceeds to sit down-
Sara -" AH here again sir? OH geez what happen now?"
Zigeris- "Same thin..thing," *takes a breathe* "Another dogfight .tha..that makes me sit ...in a escape..pod."
Sara- "Well ha sounds like your not a good pilot at all."
*Zigeris grins*
Sara- "This isn't funny you could get yourself killed."
Zigeris- "Wait? ...why would you care?"
*Sara pauses*
Sara- "What would you like to drink sir?"
Zigeris- "Wait nope, answer me."
Sara- " Nova shot? okey coming right up"
*Sara walks away*
Zigeris to himself- "What? why would she care? HA not a good fighter haha I like to see her do half the things i've done." *sighs* " But she's right, if i continue on like this i'm going to get killed. I can only press my luck for so long. Ha meh, well at least it makes a difference."
*Sara returns and sets the drink on the table and turns around*
Zigeris- "Anna wait,"
*Zigeris frantically trys to get up but falls on the ground*
*Anna turns around and attempts to help Zigeris up*
Anna- "Sir! you shouldn't be moving around like this HELL you shouldn't even be out of bed!"
*Zigeris now on his feet*
Zigeris- " Eh ..thank you.."
Sara- "No don't thank me now thank me when i drive you home you need to rest."
Zigeris- "Drive me home? Miss..."
Sara- "Just wait over there my shift ends in ten minutes can you handle that?"
Zigeris- "Ah...sure....,"
-Zigeris leans his body against the exit way wall and watches Sara continue on serving the rest of the costumers. Zigeris again looks around to see if he recognizes anyone, again finding no one. Zigeris steps out side to get some fresh air, and a man smoking next to him gives him two glances. Zigeris noticed this, and took special interest. He studies the mans face, noted everything about hes features when satisfied he could burn an image of his face in his mind he walked on over to the other side of the street.-
Taylor Andrews the owner/bartender was standing their. No orders to take nothing to give out. He turns to the Television sets mounted on the wall. An episode of Top Thrust is on on. A rerun of the episode on the Eagle civilian fighter.
*Andrews Whistles* "One fine craft" Says Andrew. A few to none responded. Another quiet night it seems. Andrew started flipping through the Channels looking for something interesting until someone needed him or wanted to talk. He found some highlights of the Dublin 6400 Race Cup, he leaned back in his chair behind the counter and watched.
After some time Tom notices a man stumble out of the door. He appeared to be in a certain amount of pain. For a moment he half expected him to collapse under his knees, the man steadied himself up against the doorframe before turning his head to face across the street and catch a glance from Tom's eyes. Tom helled his stare for a few seconds before the man turned his head back to face his destination and set out across the street. Tom took a final drag from his cigarette and stubbed it out on a bollard nearby. As the man dissapeared off into the rain Tom turned to walk back inside.
He then drifted past the bar and ordered a drink and nabbed a news paper from an unaware customer before returning back to his table at the back of the room.
Tom glances over his news paper to see a man stride towards the bar confidently. After muttering something to the tender he sticks a poster up against the vast doorway, he then proceeded over to the job board with a key to most probably post a job of some kind. Tom's attention was then diverted towards a man who stood opposite him behind his table looking rather peeved and impatient.
Tom helled his glance for a moment with a dull face.
Can i help you?
Yeah, can i have my paper back?
Tom helled his glance innocently for another moment.
But this is mine
No it's mine, and you took it
Tom put the palette down onto the table in front of him an brought his feet down onto the floor from resting them on the tabletop.
Well how do you know i took it?
'Cause i turn around an my paper is gone and at the same time you so happen to sit down over here with a paper in your hand after having just got here.
Well how do you know I just got here?
I....
The man faltered for a moment.
Look, just gimme my news back ok?
Your news? But all news is everyone's news.
What are you talki...?
Well news can't belong to anybody because it wouldn't be news now would it? It'd be a secret.
A secre....? What the he....
My sister having a baby, now that's news. But if she hadn't told me it wouldn't have been news, ergo, a "secret". Anyhow, you wanna see my nephew?
The man was dumbfoundered
Uh..
Tom whipped out a picture from his walette of a group of people on a sunny background.
Here, take a seat
The man stood there unable to figure out how he had gotten into this conversation. He remained standing for a moment glimpsing at this crazy man showing him pictures of his relatives and back to his drink at the bar.
This is Jasper - my nephew, and that's Janine - my sister, and this here's Karl....
Yano i've gotta go, do, some......stuff
The man suddenly turned away and hurried back to his seat at the bar reclaiming his drink.
...I bet you do
Tom reclined back into his seat, lifted the news paper up again and returned to the page from which he left off.
A heavy-set man dressed in an orange jumpsuit, black gloves, and a ski mask ran into the bar, carrying a large bucket of animal blood and offal.
Before anyone could let out a warning, the man had tossed the bucket's contents on to a couple of young Liberty Navy officers sitting at a small table by the door. As the man did this, he shouted out,
"Fight the power! We don't want this war!"
An LPI officer, not in much better physical condition than the assailant himself, stood up and charged towards the man, who threw his bucket at him, throwing the officer off balance. The man ran out of the bar into the streets of downtown Manhattan. While the Navy officers were still wiping the gore out of their faces, the LPI officer slipped on the pool of blood by the door and fell on his back. He got up as quickly as he could move his corpulent body, pulling himself up by the doorframe, and ran after the attacker.
The bartender took a swig of the ale he was about to pour out for a customer, set it down, and walked towards the broom closet to fetch a mop.
She was young looking, too young for her stars. Too young for the 5 silver stars ornating her shoulders. And she prefered not showing them, which was why she was wearing a mantle that day, covering her symbol of power. It was a reasonably cold day tonight anyhow, even on temperate Manhattan. Winter was winter, winter was cold (or colder).
Yet, to the knowing person, they knew general Kaitlyn was the last person to fear the small chill of Manhattan, having been raised on icy California Minor.
And to the knowing person, these long blonde hairs, somewhat smaller than average male stature could be no one else but Isabelle Kaitlyn.
It has been a long time since she last came here, and she smiled at the familiar surrounding.
She went for a sofa, and sighed, contend at finding a comfortable place to rest after such a long deployment.
"Hummmugh, its around here somewhere" Valaric Fenn, Captain of a trade Vessel said to himself. He continued in the same direction for a few more minutes, but not knowing what direction this bar was in. Being a cold day, people around him were not hanging around so it was hard to ask directions, but he was sure it was close. Valaric stopped, looked to his left, he had heard someone shouting something about power and war. He turned to face the direction the shouting was coming from and found he was facing the very bar he been looking for. A man in orange clothing came running out the bar followed by a second man who was dressed in some kind of uniform. Valaric didnt see and didnt care where they were running to or from. Valaric strolled towards the bar, entered the door and looked around the bar. He was met be an interesting sight, a selection of different people were scattered around the bar, mostly sitting down, with a few standing. The bar was nice enough he thought to himself. His eye was drawn by a table near to where he was standing, and there seemed to be blood over the table and over a couple of people, and a further pool of blood close to where he was standing. Ah ive been to worse places he thought.
Valaric spotted a man holding a mop and dressed like a barman. Well I guess I could ask the barman he thought to himself. He walked to where the barman was standing and said:
Excuse me, do you know a ship engineer by the name of Argo Arillion, just that he said he meet me here?
The door opens admitting a averaged height man in a neat black suit and red tie, with neatly groomed mustache and goatee. The gentleman quickly glances around the room then moves to sit facing the door at a table near the wall. Waving a waitress over.
"A glass of red wine, please... the best you have, please."
As he waits for his wine he removes a small tablet from the inside pocket of his jacket and begins to read.
I Enter with a Hopeful smirk. "Oh.. I hope they apply me!" I say hopefully to myself.
"Excuse Me, Bartender?" I ask politely.
"Yes Sir, What may you like?" He asks in a confident sigh.
"I would like a Liberty Monster Burger and Liberty Ale Please." I give him my order in a most polite tone.
"Alright, Comin' Up!" He responds as he walks to the back kitchen.
"Here you go Young Man." He says in a delightful tone.
"Many Thanks Sir! Heres a $10 tip." I give him the bill and the tip.
"Thank You!" The humble bartender says delightfully.
I Quickly eat my lunch and walk out the bar...