So any of you loosers want to make a extra couple of credits?
[font=Arial Black][color=#66FF99]He grinned and waited for a response..
Katarn peeked one eye at the eager pilot and muttered to himself, "Hmmm... interesting young lad...
"..Nah... not today, then..." The old, scar-faced, battleworn-veteran looked at his still-missing robotic hand, then looked at his calf-muscle still torn from the knife that pierced him.
"Phah... Sure got meself in a bit o a scrape after all... Hah..." He grabs his last Black Grog and tosses a 1000-credits card over to Jeremy who catches it as it flew, "That'll pay fer the Grog..." Eyes the downed mess of soldiers by the door, "... and these sorry lot...
"Ah... it be... satisfactory, to say the least, HAHAHAHAHAAAH!..." He stands up and starts to walk normally to the door, picking up the 4 left-over canisters of the used-up shock grenades, placing them in a pocket near his shin.
Before totally exiting the door, he turns halfway and says, "Ah... That be good shooting, lassy with the fur... May yer travels never get dull and boring, HAHAHA!!!" After which he finally leaves the bar to its remaining patrons...
... Jeremy looks on to the vet's exit and says to himself, "... That Katarn..."
Distracted by the gunfire, nobody noticed Jessica and her strange friend leave the bar. No trace was left that they had been there, except for Vixen's mysterious cylinder, which was moved from under the table to the top.
Iâll carry this flag
To the grave if I must
Because itâs flag that I love
And a flag that I trust
Three men in dark robes, all bearing identical pistols at their sides, entered the pub. While two of them sat down and examined the room and it's inhabitants, the other went to purchase drinks. In a rough and jagged voice, the darkened figure said to the bartender, "Three of Liberty's finest." The bartender raised an eyebrow and examined the man then replied, "Uhm.. Ya.. Sure. Just don't cause any trouble." The drinks were payed for, and carried over to the other cloaked men.
Vixen looked over, and nodded, but said nothing. Finishing her drink, she pushed a credit chip across the bar, with a little extra, muttering, "Its for the glass..."
She then displayed exactly what she meant, throwing it in the air, at the same time clicking her gun in the direction of Kane. As the glass passed, she fired, passing directly down the glass, cutting a whole in the top, completely obliterating the spine, and passing out the end, slipping right past, barely a millimetre from the bridge of Kane's nose.
"Don't be cocky" she muttered, catching the two, perfectly-centered remaining pieces of the wine glass.
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
Vadim blinked, then shook his head and walked back to his favourite spot at the bar counter, mumbling, "I was going to say 'call me if you need anything', but it appears you can hold your own..."
Noticing the display of marksmanship, the three men whispered amongst themselves. One of them stood up, and approached the bartender. The mysterious man said something to the bartender in a hushed voice, then sat down while the other two watched and the bartender served drinks as usual.
Jack was starting to get a little peed off. No one had talked to him about buying those guns. Well, guess it's time to stop being subtle. he thought, then jumped up on the bar (this decision somewhat influenced by his alcohol level) and yelled "HEY! ANYONE WANT TO BUY SOME GORRAMN RIFLES?"
' Wrote:This thread is so stupid that a bird sitting on a nearby tree just EXPLODED.
Vixen stood from the table, placing the remaining pieces of glass on the table.
She walked over to where the yelling man was.
"Sure," she said. "Lets see what you have...my own M60 jammed a while ago, i need a new weapon"
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
His feet resting atop the table in front of him, Gak Verdan hummed a soft little tune to himself as he sat alone in his little corner of the bar. The dusty haired man lounged in his seat with one arm laying along his seat back and the other hanging loose at his side, his hand hidden beneath the table.
Dressed simply in a thin grey shirt with a pair of light blue pants, the only unusual thing about the man was the gleaming silvery neural-net datajack on his right temple; though not completely unheard of, it was rare for someone to have an implant like it in such a visible location. The 'jack was in use at the moment, hooked up to a small datapad which sat on the table in front of him, next to his feet. While his eyes seemed to be closed, if someone took a close look at the man, they might notice that they were only half-closed as he casually scanned the room with a smirk on his face.
Characters Alan Markson: The Hellfire Legion's Lord Commander The Perihelion: Freeport Four's guardian, and yet much more. Missing and assumed Lost with all hands. Eric Dresmund: Junker, smuggler, thief. Last seen drunk on Beaumont Vayrn Wyard: IMG Recon pilot turned Neo-Terran Captain. Last location unknown
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