The lights came on in the newly refurbished bar and its new owner, William Nelson ran his finger across the polished wooden bar before settling his hand on one of the pumps.
He took up the position of somone about to pull a pint and nodded to the open space to his left.
"A pint a' Larger, Aye mate" he said to the empty room, snatching up a pint glass from the rack above and holding it under the tap. As he pulled the pint for the imaginary customer Nelson gave a cheaky wink to the imaginary red head sat in the booth.
"Not interuptin' anythin' am a' Will?"
The voice made Nelson jump and the pump springed heavily back to its upright position.
"Ahh err, no Mr McMillan. Just err... getting myself a ..." His voice trailed away as Director McMillan pulled closed the hidden door and walked around to the front of the bar.
"Y' can barely see that door from this side ... Thats good"
"Your guys did a good job on this place. It was a wreck before"
"Yeah, well." Said McMillan, taking in the rest of the room "If 'Chemical' Carmichael gets 'er own bar, then I do too. And it'll be far better than 'ers 'an all."
"Heh, if you say so boss"
Nelson turned his back on McMillan and poured the imaginary customers pint down the sink. He looked up at the mirrored wall behind the bar.
"Whats the view like from your office anyway?" he said to McMillans refelction.
"Its good, got a nice clear view a' the place, n' the back of yer 'ead"
Quite a few people stuggled with McMillan's thick Leeds accent, but Nelson had lived with it for a while now and could usualy pick out what he was saying. He still prefered talking to McMillan when he was in his ship though, the Universal Translator ironed out all the faults in his Bretonian.
"Well hopefully people will come here" said Nelson "The place is pretty out of the way for most."
"Hmmm, maybe. I 'ave faith yer can pull some custom though Will. 'al be in't office if yer need me"
"Aye boss"
McMillan walked back around the bar and fumbled for the small latch that released the hidden door. With a small click the wall pannel opened to reveal an office space behind with large monitors set into the wood panneled walls. McMillan stepped in and pushed the door closed behind him, hiding the entranceway perfectly. Once he was sure he was gone Nelson took a deep breath and turned to face the door and the sound of approaching feet.
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Dave Pajo, the young entrepeneur from Houston, walks into the bar. He has eschewed the strange brown padded sashes most junkers are fond of in favour of a suit. This controversial move, he feels, makes him look dynamic. Like a guy in a suit. Which he is.
"Sup Will?"
Will knew this gallant stranger, because he was not a stranger at all. But he was still gallant. He was not a stranger because he had been to the bar before. In the past.
"A bit far from Texas aren't yer, Dave?"
Will was a sharp man, and nothing slipped by him.
"Yeah yeah, emerging markets man you know, money to be made for a smart businessman. Economy all stirred up by the war dogg."
Dave was brushing off his question by feeding him some business jargon he liked to spout to sound knowledgeable. Will nodded, wishing to also appear knowledgeable.
"Yo Will, didn't I just see McMillan come in here man? Coulda sworn I clocked that guy a minute ago."
"Uhhh...."
Will was paralysed into inaction. Dave raises an unimpressed eyebrow before continuing.
"Look man, just tell him to hit me up sometime, wanna talk to him."
Will stared somewhat blankly at Dave. Dave sighed.
"....and a beer."
Quick as a flash, Will sprung to life and served Dave a very unremarkable pint. If there's one thing Will can do, it is serve mediocre beer in a mediocre bar with mediocre service.
MrUnusuall entered the bar, his forehead running with sweat and a holo band on his hands.
"Hello there fellow congressmen!"-replyed him , atempting to hide his fatigue with an imaginary new found energy
"Greetings! You seem a bit tired, why not sit down and have a pint?"- said Will with a welcoming smile
"Thanks!"- said him as he hastly sat down. His newfound energy ran out preety quickly it seemed.
"Whats with the getup?"- asked Pajo as he drank down his pint
"Well , ive been mining niobium for the last few hours while testing this holo band thingy. It really helps you do the job faster."
"I didnt know you had a mining ship."
"But indeed i do. Before i joined the Congress i used to wander sirius looking for valuable minerals ... among other things. Most people dont suspect of a ship like this to be hiding contraband y'know"- he replyed, with a chuckle
He chugged down his beer rather quickly, which seemed to have given him some new energy once again.
"Just a minute guys" Said Nelson, taking a quick glance at the door of the bar "I'll be back in a second"
He turned and pushed the button of a small intercom pannel at the far end of the bar and mumbled somthing into it.
"Yeah a' know. 'Am just comin' now." replyed the intercom pannel in a much higher volume than Nelson had expected.
Nelson looked back at the two Junkers stood at the bar to see if they had heard the voice. It was obvious that they would have done, but Nelson was funny like that. He subtly turned the volume dial on the intercom down and tried his best to walk casualy back to his patrons.
"Heh... So ... hows buisness been for you boys?"
Before the Junkers could reply a non-descript Molly wandered in, took a quick look around and walked up to the bar.
"I'll just serve this guy" said Nelson and struck up convosation with his new customer.
Moments later McMillan appeared in the door way.
"Jus' got comfy in mi' office, an' then you goons show up. Who wants me?"
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Dave was a little vexed. He hadn't really wanted to see McMillan at all, he just wanted an excuse to drink a beer in the early morning without feeling like a washout. Just as he thought he'd accomplished his goals, he'd fallen into a conversation with some scruffy miner covered in sweat and technology, discovered that the beer here was actually terrible, and now McMillan himself had actually appeared.
But he wasn't so vexed. He'd made his millions with his charm and social graces alone. Well, that and many years of running an end-stage drug dealing business on Houston and Denver. But mostly his charm and social graces. With a quick cough for the benefit of those watching him, he straightened his tie and stood up to greet McMillan.
"Yo, McMillan. What's going on man, you runnin this place or somethin?"
"Little bit."
"Little bit? Look man, you gotta get some better beer, dogg. This stuff's warm and brown. Not a fan, man. I know some guys on Denver, from Jefferson Park. They make some real beer. I'll hook you up with a shipment. Alright."
Dave slaps an arm around McMillan's shoulders in his most practiced and inimitable style, making McMillan feel comfortable and relaxed, but the masculinity of the gesture also made McMillan feel like one of the boys, in on the secret, and a true player. He was wowed by Dave's pure, distilled charisma.
"So what's goin' on witchu man? How's things in Bret? You copin with this war and things man? All dem Hogosha comin down in to Leeds? You need a hand with anything man, just let me know and I can sort somethin out."
His 'buddy trust speech' over, Dave was on the move again, wheeling McMillan down to the table he had just left, sitting him opposite Mr Unusuall.
"Alright now all things aside, we just three junkers enjoying a beer now right? So let's kick back. But I'm buying us all whisky because the beer here is shocking."
McMillan was a little vexed. He had come in expecting somthing interesting or important, but instead he got a barrage of questions and arm gestures. Despite it all he had apparently brokered a deal on getting a shipment of weak Libertonian Rice Beers and help in fighting the encroaching Kusari crime sindicate in Leeds.
Whatever had happened he was now sat facing a sweaty looking Junker while another bumbled away to the bar.
"Make mine a pint a' Strongbow" he called to to the Libertonian Junker "An' you mate" he said to the other "are very sweaty"
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Joshua stumbled in, looking half-dazed and highly annoyed. With much flourishing and waving of arms, he addressed the room at large in a rather snappish manner, "Great, jus' great. Not only does 'ee 'ave t' indecency t' wake me up at 'alf e-bleedin'-leven t' chase off after some phantoms, but me bleedin' ship don't even 'ave t' nearest bleedin' bar on it's bleedin' nav map! Great," then, turning to the bar, "Two pints o' bitter, make it sharpish...an' none o' that Liberty Ale hogswill. Summat nice."
Accepting his drinks, he sat down at a table in one of the corners and promptly dosed off.
Dave looks over at McMillan and Unusuall as Joshua comes in and starts talking loudly in a completely incomprehensible language. Dave catches McMillan's eye and mouths "What the hell?"
After closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he lets out a long sigh, he addresses those at his table.
"Do we have anything going on here or what? I look around and I see a bunch of Junkers wasting time and money sitting around on their asses in some dive bar. This aint good for business and it aint good for us."
McMillan gave a little smile to Dave as he showed his compleate inability to translate thick Bretonian accents. He would have to get him one of his modified ship-to-ship translators, but for now it was fun to watch him pull a thoughtfull look and try and decode what he had just heard.
Watching the drunk Junker fall asleep in the corner of the room McMillan only just noticed Dave was talking to him and caught the last few words of what he was saying.
"Actu'lly, sittin' in this 'dive bar'" McMillan did the air quotes "is workin' a'right for me. While 'am kicin' back 'ere, crew a' ma' Salveger are out makin' a mint."
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