The bar door slowly swung open as a figure of a woman backed into the room keeping the door proped open with her boot, 4 crates and Jinx stacked precariously in her arms and a sub machine pistol in her teeth she eyed the edge of the door with each unsteady step backwards gauging the distance once sure she sidestepped clear as the door swiftly found root in it original resting place.
Now facing the direction of the bar she made her way across from the door, view obstructed by the stacked crates she mummbled something inaudible due to the weapon she was holding firm in her mouth, as if memorised she seeminlgy marched the exact number of pases that were need from the door forcing her way between Illu and Jenner planting the crates down on the bar the proceeded to remove and reholster the weapon from her teeth. She took a quick glance round the bar then spotted Sven seemingly growing infuriated
"You said that was goin to be an easy job, like hell it was I've now got 2 new bullet scars thanks to you, you lieing two faced sack of sh......." She roared before becoming distracted, she faced from left to right and back again "Illu, Jenner wow not seen to guys in what feels like a lifetime, how are things goi.....FRANK!!!!! If you even so much as touch 1 of those bottles before Sven pays me I swear to what ever god or deity you pray to you will wish you where in hell!"
Frank paused for a moment taking in the look in Gir's eyes before retracting his hand that was hoovering a mere millimetre away from the Jinx crate, he knew from the sheer amount of crazy on her face he wouldn't even have manged to open the bottle never mind drink it before Gir would have been on him like some savage beast hungry for its next prey. He instead quickly spun on his stool accompanied by the oh so familiar sound of the Velcro tearing free to face Sven putting on the saddest puupy dog face he could manage with whipering sounds for added effect, Sven sighed before waling over to the stack of Jinx crates adn a furious Gir who hand began impatiently tapping her boot whilst finger the hilt of her Katana.
He looked up the crates seemingly doing some calculations in his head before producing a stack of credits from below the bar and began to count them out into a pile infront of Gir, as he appeared to finish he began to draw back his hand before finding his arm pinned to the bar by his shirt sleave now with a katana protruding from it which hand been drawn within a blink on an eye
"Don't even think of trying to short change me here Sven, you know full well thats not the amount you promised me to do this job" Gir's toned was now that of a rational level indicating her rage had subsided the only give away that it hadn't was the rather large blood vessel which could be observed pulsating on her forehead Sven sighed again and countinued counting. From behind the almost ninja styled customer piped up "I've already said it before but would everyone just calm down! I can't enjoy my drink over here!"
Gir's head snapped round to face the direction of the voice so fast anyone watching would have thought she had just broken it, she stared at him silently the blood lust she emmited was so strong it almost seemed to take on an ominous physical appearanch behind her. The customer returned to his seat as if by some base survival instinct, again Gir slowly about faced Sven and the pile of credits before him her eyes darting over them with almost machine like efficiency happy with the amount she removed her katana from teh bar releasing Sven's sleeve who calmly examined the new hole before tutting and removing the jinx crates to the stock area
"Last time I hire you for a supply job" he moaned
"Yea well last time I take 1 from you to ya weasel" Gir chimed in response "I'm an assassin ya twit remember this isn't my speciality"
No kind deed forgotten and no debt unpaid, Imperial Assassin clan The Black knights
Sven picked up the last crate to take down to the cellar, but it lifted way too easily into the air. It was empty. Sven looked over at Frank, who was still velcroed to his barstool. "How? Frank? You haven't moved from your stool?"
Frank just sat there innocently sipping on his glass of Janx, although he did look a little more inebriated now than he did before. Sven stared at him in amazement before shooting Gir an exasperated look.
Gir just shrugged her shoulders as she examined the edge of her Katana. "You bought and paid for them. It's your problem now."
Rule (1) of Fighter Club is "We do not talk about Fight Club"
Elden ran into the bar, ramming the door with a shoulder and stopped for a moment staring at an unusually crowded room. He hadn't bothered to change his working robe to civil clothes and was looking a bit odd with all those tools on his belt, welding goggles dangling on his neck and spots of grease on a young, even boyish face.
After a couple of seconds of eyeing people he spotted Jenner and hurried straight to her.
"Miyako-san, you shouldn't have hurried them on those T-31s, now they are going to charge a double price for delivery..." - He looked a bit upset.
"Anyway, since I've moved the harris to a separate hangar I rented it won't hinder any more repair schedules." - the latter part was said with much less assurance.
Elden was well aware that his efforts to restore and refit an old "Harris Fighter" had some serious impact on his work at Akashi Repairs. It even costed Jenner some notable amount of HER hangar-time every week. And despite constantly blaming himself for that, Elden could do nothing about it. This was not an ordinary ship. Not just a well preserved retro, like the Saker he brought here on his first arrival. He believed that this particular ship had once belonged to his grandfather's squadron. He found it on his home planet, Titican, where he was laying low after a very nasty mission agent Ryan sent him to.
Speaking of which. The successful "removal of a dangerous pirate" had somehow resulted in all nearest authorities chasing his ship. Elden, or "a non registred saker fighter" had been accused of an attempt of assasination of some high rank local faction representatives. It was his luck that he managed to take out the captain he was hunting for, without destroying the whole ship. Otherwise he would have been accused of murder of said high-ranks. Nevertheless, the reward he got for the captain was generous enough to buy the harris fighter, and even more.
He then hid his saker at Titican and hastily brought the harris into (barely)flying condition. He then slipped away from the system on his new ship via "slow hyperspace" - the one that takes days per jump and has no supercruise capability. The trick has worked once more - noone has the equipment to track such jump nowadays. Though each of such jumps could be his last, because those old drives had a tendency to mis-jump without proper service.
Elden was drawed out of his thoughts by oh so familiar subtle flashing of metal followed by a thud as Gir's katana went some three centimeters into the bar, pinning Sven's sleeve.
"Don't even think of trying to short change me here Sven..."
Elden haven't seen her for what felt like years, but the memories of his first "real mission" with her rushed in as if it was yesterday.
He stared at her with a dumb smile on his face as she turned to a customer, dangerous and hot-tempered as always. Then back to Sven, who expressed disappointment with the new ventilation in his sleeve and promised to never hire Gir for such mission.
"Yea well last time I take one from you too, ya weasel! I'm an assassin ya twit remember this isn't my speciality"
Elden's smile twisted. - "What an irony. I'm an assassin too now, though it happened against my will. That deceitful Ryan..." - He thought grinding his teeth - "Well, I'm not going to look for excuses. Whats done is done. I'll just hope the guy had a price on his head for a reason."
The concealment device seemed to be working, as no one had started screaming yet, although I didn't know what they were seeing. The one half-dead person I had tried talking to had said something about a ninja, but that was around the same time a crazy dude with a sword had come in, so I couldn't really draw any conclusions from that. Drinking was a bit hard, but that was no different to normal. Whatever the bartender had given me was green and slightly oozy. It tasted like Thargoid slime. The place had been falling to pieces when I arrived and it's occupants consisted of a human fissile and the bartender, but several more people had arrived since and the place already looked better. I'd swear it was bigger as well.
I should probably try getting a job from one of these nutters while I was here.
I approached the most recent arrival who looked a little less crazy than the others.
"Happy birthday my old friend!" He looked puzzled. "You don't seem to recognize me. Let me tell you first who I am not: I am not a good man. And I'm not a bad man. I am not a bounty hunter and I'm definitely not an Emperor. And no, I'm not a drunkard. Do you want to know who I am? I am… a pilot, with a ship, and a handgun. Passing through, helping out, trying out the local beverages. I don't need an Anaconda and I never have, because I've got my Courier, always my Courier. So will you give me a mission? Because missions aren't for making credits, missions are promises. And I never break my promises. "
He better give a job after that bunch of baloney! The first bit might have been overkill, but it seemed appropriate for this place, and it certainly got his attention.
A haunting cry of "Multi Crew" seemed to carry through the air conditioning system causing everyone to stop mid drink.
Even Frank who had finally managed to start a flow of hot urine in the bio-waste cubicle found his stream to his great dismay cut short.
it was like some sort of ghost had picked an agenda to haunt the entire thargoid bar with criticism and dispair...
The Bar doors parted sharply and a disheveled figure stumbled through them landing flat on the floor, twitching and emitting a distinct smell of desperation...
The sound of gunfire came from outside the Thargoid and Fer-De-Lance, rebounding off of the corridors and echoing in the ventilation systems
Sven didnt care much for firefights. They were too common for his liking and disrupted what was otherwise a fairly strange aura in the bar
The doors opened and Flash Baggins ran in and vaulted the bar, landing in a bundle of green blazer and alcohol on the floor. quickly he backed up against the bar facing the door and pulled out his suppressed 10mm. Sven looked down at him thoroughly disinterested and unimpressed
'You gonna order anything?'
Flash simply put his finger to his lips and held the gun ready to peek over the bar and shoot his pursuers, if they were competent enough to had seen where he went.
Sven didnt like this behaviour. Running into his bar and disturbing his polishing of the glass he always had in hand. That was no way to act, even around here
Flash waited for a minute. Noone entered. he got up, vaulted the bar to the other side and took a seat next to Frank.
'Sorry about that, cops werent happy with me buying out the entire systems worth of donuts onto my Python. also maybe me shooting at them for fun as well. Ill have a Lavian brandy please'
Flash 'BY THE POWER OF GREYSKULL!!!' Baggins
Youve never heard of me? Im the pilot who flew the kessel run in less than 12 parsecs