Friday, 2 December 2011

There is always that last one...

'Hey man fill this up will ya!'

'Jack', as he made himself known by slid his mug forth along the bar-top.

The brash Minmatar Brutor wobbled and brushed passed Nashh whom was sat at the bar. The music was loud, too loud and not to his taste. But the tender had been good and got him what he wanted quick. Two girls, non capsuleers and way to drunk, danced sensually and kissed eachother, providing enough entertainment.

Jack the Brutor had been loud and annoying for a while but Nashh composed himself a few times and restrained his natural aggression. Not that temptation wasn't there to tell him a piece of his mind or hurt him, badly.

The tender looked from nashh back to the Brutor, sensing aggravation and figured it was best to just serve the guy to get him away from Nashh.

'What you want it filling up with bro?'

'What you think, Jack laughed out loud. Fuck sake, hound piss! Hahaha! '

The bartender didn't smile but picked up the mug and carried it over to the nearest beerpump.

Jack nudged Nashh and laughed out loud. 'What with? Ha!'

'It's a valid question', Nashh muttered.

Jack sized up Nashh for a moment, looking him up and down. Nashh Kadavr was wearing ripped jeans and worn combat boots with the laces undone. A white vest with oil stains on the side and some dark brown splatters on the chest area, sure to be dried blood, but not his own. His muscular and tattood arms and were shoulders clearly visible. His left arm depicted a battle scene running all the way up his left shoulder, his right arm had an ancient pistol on the inside of the forearm and the rest of the arm skulls. Lots of skulls. His right shoulder depicted a skull, crossed rapiers, angel wings and flames.
He was sitting on a barstool with a leather jacket draped over it, the same skull and rapier motif was visible on the back of the jacket and a gold bio- hazard sign behind a broken sword was carefully stitched on the left sleeve. In small letters below it it read; "Black Guard".

Jack smiled, squinting his eyes, drunk. He may have been drunk but knew he was not made to feel welcome next to Nashh. He didn't say another word until he got his beer and walked off with it, 'thanks'.

Nashh picked up his half empty beer and before he swigged it empty he nodded at the tender, 'last one brother, last one'.

The bartender smiled and nodded back. From a fridge in front of him he picked out another label-less bottle, opened it and put it on the bar in front of Nashh.
From a shelf behind him he picked up a thin, long necked bottle and filled up two small glasses of the containing golden brown liquid. On the label it read PIRAT rum.

'On me', the tender lifted a glass and held it aloft for a moment before emptying it in one go.

The Black Guard CEO followed suit.

The golden liquid ran down his gullet, firing up every possible taste sensation. Orange and caramel flavors lingered, even though there was no spirit burn his gums tingled.

'Holy fucksticks, leave me the bottle please brother'.

'Last one hey', the tender smiled.

'Last one...'


  1. A tiny droid flies into the bar, buzzing round at head height, it zooms straight past Nashh, circling the bar a couple of times at head height before returning to the Bar.

    It hovers in front of Nashh for a few seconds, who waves a hand in front of his nose trying to get the small insect sized droid out of his face.

    The droid dodges the empty glass thrown at it by Jack, then procedes to land neatly beside the pool of stale beer in front of Nashh.

    It sits and watchs Nash Drain another glass of rum, before projecting a 6" holo image of Anabaric onto the bar.

    "Boss you look like shit, the facial recognition almost didn't work with that damm beard. What the fuck have you been drinking?"
    Nashh slurs something uncomprehensible, before slumping headfirst into the puddle of beer.


    Nashh's head snaps up as the micro jolt from the droid connects to his ear.

    "Wake the fuck up, and get back here, Acute's pissing me off, and that radio jock you recuited won't shut up.
    We all miss Mynxee but seriously your taking it too far"

    The holo image shuts off, and Nashh sits looking vaguely at the small droid, which prompty zaps him again, before flying up, performing a small somersault and landing with a splash in the half empty bottle of rum.

  2. Nashh, finally returning from God knows where, saunters out onto the gangway to view his ship hovering in the mysterious thing that they hover in inside the Station which obviously has gravity controls. He ponders his Hurricane for a moment, almost as if he doesn't recognize it. As he starts to walk down the archaic steps towards his pod a voice buzzes in his ear piece. It's Scotty, the Docking Manager.

    "Sorry Nashh, can't let you take the Cane out right now."

    Nashh stops and scowls, he still can't walk and scowl at the same time, "Why dat?"

    Scotty, cocky for someone talking from a control bunker deep within the Station behind sixteen inches of plasmatic-flex steel says, "Still waiting on parts from Jita. Shoulda been here yesterday, but I don't expect it'll be much longer."

    Unsurprisingly Nashh leaps from the walkway to certain doom without a sound.

    In a moment of twisted irony, which only becomes apparent later during the brief investigation, Nashh's body manges to knock the centrifuge control unit out of whack on the incoming transport ship that contains the much needed missing part. The transport crashes into an undocking Tornado killing everyone on board both ships.

    Weeks later, when the part finally does get re-delivered, Scotty utters a small exclamation of surprise when he discovers it doesn't fit properly and he'll need to r-order another one.

  3. I guess im not doing my job if im not pissing someone off XP

  4. Awesome! I wonder if that qualifies as penguin formal or penguin casual? Thanks for hunting down the shot and posting it. A very cool site..