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What's on tap? (Buck/Ryuchii)
Topic Started: Mar 23 2009, 03:00 PM (258 Views)
llagrok
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It was time to kick back and relax, time for some good ol R and R, a little rest and relaxation. No amount of hero’ing and saving the day and solving the problems of tomorrow could ever compare to having a drink down at The Cathedral. There were only a handful of places where the gifted could go to get a drink outside of Mutant town. The Cathedral was a place where anyone could go and enjoy top class beverage, and where the well connected could go to find information.

There was something if a rift in the bar actually, you had a couple of not-so-chirpy looking fellahs sitting in the corners and around the bar, then you had mainly satisfied and joyous customers sitting around a few tables. The gloomy ones kept to the corners and along the wall mostly, but the bar was the place with the greatest diversity. People looking for business, people bringing their business to Marshall Law, people enjoying their drinks and people bringing their complaints.

Such was the curse of being a bartender, eventually someone would sit down and complain about the awful shape their life was in. Some had been dumped by their girlfriends, some had been diagnosed with terminal diseases and others simply complained about society in general. Viking was not here to complain, he was here to make some new friends, meet a pretty girl and get as drunk as he could afford.

No matter which way you cut it, he was faced with a choice, his path forked, it was do or die, Ragnar was faced with a problem that had plagued many a young man. He did not have enough money to both get drunk, and buy any possible girls a drink and such. If he met a beautiful girl then his very being demanded that he bought the girl a drink and possibly something to eat, if food could be purchased at The Cathedral. This meant that he would not have enough money to get properly drunk.

By the bar stood a black haired man and Ragnar crossed the floor with happy steps and a broad smile upon his face. ”Hail bartender, let me have half a litre of whatever is on the tap” Viking shouted happily and sat down next to Nathan. ”Hello friend, you too are here to enjoy the rest of your weekend, yes?” Ragnar spoke, his upbeat manner almost contagious. Few found it difficult not to smile or laugh whenever he was about.
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Ryuchii


Ah, money. It made the world go round. That's why he was here tonight. Another job. More blood on his hands. Less room in his wallet. He had come to the Cathedral to meet with his usual hook-up who paid him well. This his 'friend' (if you could call him that) left and Nathaniel Dayes, Nathan or Nat for short, retired to the bar for a few drinks. He deserved a buzz after the last few days he had.

"Barkeep. Uh.. Just get me.. Get me a Hpnotiq."

A few minutes later a glass of the bright blue drink was delivered to him. Just as Nathan took the first sip of the delightful, fruity drink, he heard a large, overly-cheery voice just next to him. At first the voice was directed to the barkeep, but then the voice changed it's focus to Nathan himself. For some reason, Nathan couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"Sure. Enjoy my weekend.. I plan to after the week I've had."

A clearing of the throat told Nathan that the bartender wanted his money. He quickly withdrew his wallet and threw a few bills on the table, enough to pay for the drink. He then set the wallet away. It was easy to notice that there was quite a bit of money in the wallet, but Nathaniel wasn't afraid of anyone trying to mug him. He could defend himself easy.

"So, my big er... 'friend' as you call it.. Can I buy you a drink? I have plenty of money to spare and I don't have bills to pay til next month, so I might as well blow some of this before I attract the wrong kind of attention."

He didn't really want to bother with this guy.. but he might as well entertain himself and at least pretend to be nice. While he didn't feel like making any new 'friends', he also didn't want to start a bar fight, so he might as well keep up a nice facade.
Edited by Ryuchii, Mar 23 2009, 04:05 PM.
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llagrok
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Lady luck shined upon Viking tonight, not only did he had the night and tomorrow morning off, but this mysterious stranger offered to buy him a drink. One might become a bit curious when dark strangers offered you free drinks, many a young boy would’ve posed a very standard query, what do you want in return for it? Ragnar however did not worry at all, unlike many other people, he did not subscribe to the saying ”nothing is free” because many things were free in life.

A friendly man was a man after Ragnar’s friendship, and that was already given. People he did not know where not strangers, they were friends whose names he did not know yet. Paying for the drink he had just ordered, Ragnar smiled and tilted his head back before emptying the entire glass in one sitting. One of the many benefits/drawbacks of having superhuman durability was the inhuman resistance to toxins, like alcohol. It did make him hard to poison, but it tend to cost quite a bit when he was out on the town.

”Friend, that would be incredible. Bartender, please give me one of the drinks this man just ordered” Viking said to the barkeep, before quickly turning his attention to Nathan and smiling. Apparently the man’s week had been pretty rough and fortunately Viking’s memory served him perfectly today. He remembered many comments about how loud his voice was and how some people thought he was a bit annoying, especially if they were tired and had suffered through a long week.

Taking a much smaller sip of this magic new potion, he carefully leaned on the bar and looked at Nathan. ”I am Ragnar, thank you for the drink. You say you’ve had a rough week, please share your stories” The time had come for storytelling, to hear about a regular man's troubles and worries, a break from the mutant debate.
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BuckMetro


A door towards the back of the bar swung open slowly. Far removed from the tables and booths, it was barely noticeable except to the scrutinizing, or perhaps lucky, eye. Quietly, a man slipped out, slinking around the door like a cat, before closing it behind him.

Marshall glanced at the lock of hair that dangled in front of his face, quickly blowing it out of his eyes before making his way out towards the patrons. Although not a mess, he appeared slightly ill-kept. Dressed in a loose pair of khaki slacks and a white button, half tucked in, it almost looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Still, he wore a smile across his roughened face as he made his way towards the bar itself, occasionally stopping to greet some patrons; compliment them on their daughter; talk about the ball game; or that new promotion they just got.

He made the rounds slowly, the rings under Marshall's eyes becoming more apparent as he neared the bar. He slipped behind the counter as the bartender set some drinks down in front of a large gentlemen and his companion.

"Thanks for covering that shift, Vince." Marshall said to the barkeep. "I hate doing the books, but sometimes they just gotta be done." Marshall cracked a smile and shook his head slowly. "I'll make sure to put a little extra in this weeks pay, though." He added as he washed up at the sink behind the counter. "I've got it from here, so why don't you head home?" Marshall continued. "Yer kid's probably having dinner." He joked before pausing as the proverbal changing of the guards took place. "Oh," Marshall called as an afterthought, "you're covering for Josi on Thursday, right?"

"Yeah." Vince confirmed it as he donned his coat.

"Great, thanks, man. Say hi to Alisa for me." Marshall replied, presumably referring to Vince's wife. They exchanged goodbyes as Marshall began fiddling with the radio, finally settling on some '50s blues -- the kind with the dry throated singer, whose voice seems deeper than a well.

His back to his guests for a moment, Marshall breathed out a long sigh, his squared shoulders seemed to relax some. He donned a white apron, tying it around his back as he turned around. "So, gentlemen," Marshall spoke, his voice was horse and somewhat raspy, like an ex-smoker, "How's the evening finding you?" He asked the behemoth and his smaller friend.
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Ryuchii


"Ragnar.. Quite an interesting name.. Certainly not one heard around here too often. I'm Nathan."

Then Ragnar ordered what Nathan was drinking, so he put more money down for it. Yay for wasting his money on some big oaf who was now asking him to tell him about the last week. Sure, Nathan was just going to blurt out that he was a hitman for the Mafia. Nice conversation starter there.

"Well.. Let's just say I had to find someone who had gone into hiding and it wasn't easy.. Had to go all the way to Los Angeles to find him.. What some people would do to avoid..."

He didn't finish that sentence. Nathan hadn't meant to say it, but he might as well leave it unfinished. Especially now that someone was distracting then, thank the Lords and Ladies. A quick glance told Nathan that whoever this was worked here. Either that or he loved wearing white aprons out in public.

"The evening is finding me well, thank you," Nathan said putting on a smile. "I'm sure that my friend, Ragnar, here is good as well. He always seems to be in such a cheerful mood." Nathaniel put an arm around Ragnar's rather-wide shoulders in what was essentially a quick man-hug. Lords, how long did he have to keep up this charade? Hopefully another sip, which he took, would help him feel better.
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llagrok
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The man introduced himself as Nathan and made a little note of Viking’s unusual name. Not even in the ”Norwegian-state” Minnesota were you likely to encounter someone with that name. ”It is because I hail from Norway…” Ragnar said, putting a strong emphasis on Norway, odds were the man didn’t know where it was or didn’t care, possibly both. For a second the young man was tempted to introduce himself as Viking, but this evening was his night off, off from the duties of mutant hood.

Apparently Nathan’s week had involved a somewhat involuntary trip to Los Angeles, the city of angels. Ragnar had only been there once, but he remembered that it was pretty grand. All the major cities in America were like straight out of the movies for someone who had spent his life on a farm in a scarcely populated Norwegian county.

While the seriousness didn’t quite dawn on Ragnar, he assumed that the man worked as muscle for someone. Perhaps he had just chased down some guy who owed his boss some money, the young mutant didn’t consider that he might actually have been sent there to kill the unfortunate man. Then they were accompanied by a man, who understood what fashion and style was all about, a man whose taste in clothing seemed to be controlled by his need to be free and to break the restrictions of suits, dresses and tuxedos.

”No Gentlemen here, only VIKING!! and The evening has found me great!” Viking replied happily and took another sip of the drink Nathan had treated him to, it was a bit different then what he usually had, which was little more than beer. He had tried Mead a couple of times, both Norwegian and Danish and neither had tickled his fancy.

Nathan’s friendliness only seemed to increase, a behaviour he would have to risk at his own peril. One of the dangers about getting Ragnar too psyched up and drunk at the same time, was his enormous strength. Knocking someone’s head off on the dance floor had not happened, but he had accidentally knocked Beast clear through the wall once. Fortunately the blue furred mutant possessed formidable durability.

For a second Viking was tempted to get caught in the moment and grab a hold of Nathan and spin him around. Unfortunately such a display of might and awesome ness would undoubtedly tear down something in the bar, and perhaps someone standing around it, not to mention the owner. ”I think I know you, do you own place here?” Ragnar asked, unaware of the fact that he had seen this man many, many times. Alcohol had a tendency to temporarily mess up your memory, one of its more charming traits.
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BuckMetro


Marshall cocked an inquisitive eyebrow as he listened carefully to the two, though he appeared preoccupied with washing out a couple of pint-glasses. They gave a satisfying squeak as he rubbed them each dry with a fresh dish towel. Ragnar or Viking. He began thinking. Possible nicknames, call signs, or otherwise aliases. He concluded. Whatever it was mattered fairly little to Marshall as long as they abide by the law within his establishment, paid their tab, and hopefully tipped well, he would not judge them for the kind of life they led.

The other man, though, the smaller of the two seemed off, though. Something about his mannerisms seemed forced, almost fake. There were countless plausible reasons for such behavior, however a sort of sixth sense seemed to pick him out as an oddball. Once again, though, Marshall was not the sort to judge.

I wonder if they're together? He thought idly, observing the duo's behavior. Some things were better left unasked. Marshall had learned at an early age never to assume that a woman was pregnant just because she was large. This sort of thing was similar.

"Good to hear." Marshall smiled at Ragnar before preparing and delivering a few drinks to a small group down at the other end of the bar. "And you are correct." He added upon his return. "The names Marshall, and as you surmised, I own this place." Marshall beamed, his chest swelling a little bit with pride. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He told Ragnar, "And you are?" He asked the smaller man.
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Ryuchii


"Norway.. that is.. above Sweden and Finland, yes?" That would certainly explain the name.

"Viking?," he couldnt help but ask aloud. Viking sounded like a codename a mutant would give himself, Nathan's own codename being Shadowrun, after a game he use to play as a child. Ragnar's body certainly fit the physique of a viking. Either way, mutant or not, he didn't care. Ragnar didn't seem the type to attack for no reason like many evil mutants would.

Somehow he found his new 'friend's behavior embarrassing because it was likely attracting attention now. Nathan didn't bother to look, though. He didn't like knowing that people were watching him. As Nathan decided to down the rest of his drink (while suppressing the urge to shudder and cough from the vodka working it's magic on his tongue and throat) he heard the bartender asking him his name.

"..Nathaniel Dayes.. or just Nathan."

He made sure to lower his voice just a smidge so only Ragnar and Marshall heard, while trying not to make it too apparent that he was lowering his voice.
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llagrok
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The owner of the place was nothing short of a decent guy, he wasn’t formal and boring like a lot of those club-owners were, and he didn’t seem to think of himself as a god. The doorman had actually been pretty polite too, a lot of people who worked the door tend to get on Viking. It was like they said, nobody liked the doorman. You think mutants are hated? Try being the guy who has to tell 200 people that they can’t get into the club, and then let some celebrity right in. Sure, you got respect from some people, but you got into more fight than a Klan member in Compton.

He introduced himself as Marshall, another man after Ragnar’s friendship. The strong Norwegian was beaming with happiness as he started getting closer to the end of his fancy vodka-drink. Marshall seemed to be quite proud of his establishment, but not in an arrogant snooty way. More like an artist who was proud of his painting, or a carpenter who was proud of a house he built.

Nathan attempted to place Norway on the world map, a task even the wisest and more intelligent American never seemed capable of. He placed it in close proximity to Sweden and Finland, which was right. Though Norway lay next to them, a part of the country did technically expand over the two neighbour countries. ”Not bad, and yes! The Mighty Vikings did come from Norway!” Viking said majestically and made a quick hop off his chair, swinging his invisible sword straight through an imaginary enemy.
Edited by llagrok, Apr 5 2009, 08:06 PM.
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BuckMetro


Marshall's eyes traveled slowly from Nathan to Ragnar as each spoke in turn; he took mental notes. Looks like they just met. He concluded from their interactions, not that it mattered. On the outside, the two seemed to be like opposites. Viking, or Ragnar, or however he went, was large and seemed free spirited; his body language expressed much more than his words did. Nathan on the other hand seemed small, withdrawn, almost mouse-like. The words between his words --or even more so, his lack of words-- was what conveyed the most information. Still, if there was anything Marshall had learned, it was that people, mutants in particular, are complex. This display that each of them put on, even Marshall himself, was simply a show. Perhaps a better word to describe it was that it was a smoke screen. That was just the way people were.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet the both of you." Marshall smiled before turning around to procure various liquors in order to mix a drink for another customer. "I'm glad to see the two of you in here." He added, turning back around, talking as if they were old friends. "I've been worried about business because... Well, that's what I do." Marshall chuckled. "But I think things are picking up now that we're coming out of winter." He paused. "Pardon me for a moment." Marshall excused himself to deliver the drink.

The older gentleman meandered from table to table as he made his way back towards the bar, checking on old customers and friends, and greeting new ones. Eventually, however, Marshall slipped back behind the bar, like a rabbit returning to the safety of its familiar burrow.

"So, Norway," Marshall began, picking the conversation up again. "What brings you state-side?" He inquired with a soft smile.
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