- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Writing Levels
- Douche
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
Two minutes later and we're sitting at the bar like nothing happened. They say the Cbox was built close to the old M Tower, and it sure has some of that old magic. Feels like the ISAF have forgotten all about us, but only a fool would relax in this city. Neutral ground in Iwaku's like a virgin in a whorehouse. Feels like everyone's watching me.
We're the sitting dead, me and Kitti perched at the bar and letting the wounds sink in. The girl's not saying much, just hanging over her drink. She's bandaged her leg and let her hair down to cover the wounds on her face and neck. We haven't spoken about the fight in the alley. Guess there's not much to say.
As for me, I've got my scratches, the gash on my shoulder, the bite-marks on my neck, the bullet-shredded left wing. But I let 'em bleed. It's good for me. Always has been.
A bearded drunk has taken a shine to us and is footing the bill. Says his name is Myrnodyn and I feel like we've met before. I think of hairballs and tunnels of light when I look at him. Craziest damn thing. He's filled me in on this gutless purgatory that calls itself a city. Iwaku's in shit state. The more I listen to him the more it makes sense. Gotta get drinking, before I end up completely sane.
I order a shot of Goldenrod from the barman. Torsty - big bruiser of a Norseman who belongs on a battlefield. I remember him fighting for me once, then betraying me, but who hasn't? Anyone without the sense to backstab a son of a bitch like me is probably already dead. The amber spirit slides well down my throat. I remember when things used to turn to ash on my tongue, but then something happened - not sure what - and I started picking up vices. Good thing there's no chocolate behind this bar - I'd have to ask for my weapons back. Downing the shot in one, I start fishing out a cigarette, hands shaking as I hold the box.
Karma Cigarettes. Cute.
"And that's why I don't need you dragging your shit in here," Myrnodyn says, finishing his little drunken tirade. I haven't really been listening. Ears are still ringing from the gunfire and explosions. Who the hell was it who blew the streets apart? I'd like to buy him a drink.
"I won't be here long," I rasp and lift the cigarette to my lips. Torsty lights me up and gives me his default look - somewhere between intolerance and anxiety. I blow more smoke into the general fog that pervades the Cbox. "Just need my bearings. Then I'll be gone."
"And take that thing with you!" Myrnodyn jabs a finger at the window, pointing to the silhouette of the Terminator waiting at the other side of the courtyard. The Warmaster's been watching the place ever since we got inside, and I don't think he's getting bored.
What the hell have they done to him?
Can't get involved. I've got things to do. I make sure my coat is buttoned, to cover up the book that lodged in my chest, then order more Goldenrod. Torsty pours without speaking and moves away to serve Myrn.
I'm all alone with the alley cat, and she's still not speaking. This time I sip my drink, then tap my cigarette over an ashtray shaped like a viking helmet.
"That wound..." I say to Kitti, staring ahead at the mirror over the bar. "...It's self-inflicted, right?"