[Mokrie Dela]

Marlon Richman entered the bar and made a beeline to the bartender. His shoulders were slumped and his stomach had had that lurching feeling since last night. He hadn't slept either; his mind going over and over it all.
"Give me your strongest drink." He said, avoiding eye contact. He couldn't deal with another woman at this moment. He slumped down on a stool next to a man with two drinks and a nasty cut on his head. On any other day he'd inquire to that but today, Marlon didn't say anything to him. The man looked upset but Marlon had more impoartant things on his mind. The rain that had just started outside was fitting to his mood.
He paid for his drink and took it down in an aggressive shot.
Holy sh*t! It was the worst thing he'd ever tasted. It tasted like burning. His face screwed up and his eyes screwed shut tighter than a Jewish man's wallet. After a moment his face relaxed and he exhaled with releif, coughing as he did so.
"Maybe something not quite as strong." The barmaid suggested.
Marlon shook his head. "Again."

With the next shot, Marlon felt like he was in Purgatory. He felt, just for a moment, that his sins would be absolved, and that she'd forgive him.

Marlon stood after an unknown length of time. His head suddenly filled with water, and he felt like he was swimming. Without a word he waddled to the restroom.
After embarressingly missing the urnial, he rinsed his hands - he didn't like public soap - and turned to the door. As his hand touched the handle a loud thud! sounded from behind him, scaring the sh*t out of him. He was glad he'd just emptied his bladder, even if it was mostly all over the floor.
Marlon turned to see a body slumped on the tiled floor. He stood there for a minute then shook his head and walked off. He returned to the bar and ordered another drink.
A minute later his head was resting on the sticky wood, no one noticing - or caring - that he'd passed out.

The barmaid tried nudging him, suggesting that he go home. But, unknown to anyone else, Marlon no longer had a home to go to.






Not too impressed by the quality of that, but lets see what interaction i can muster up with people...
Also hope i understand this properly.

This post has been edited by Mokrie Dela on Tuesday, Apr 24 2012, 11:14

[Mr.Funny12]

Patricks head was spinning. He just cracked his eyes and what he could see were a very select few looking at him. He heard his phone ring but couldn't manage to get his phone out of his pocket. The one who had struck him over the head with the beer bottle stood, towering over him. Patrick dazed and confused tried to look up at him as he lay there on his back.

"This isn't your buisness hero" the man said.

He chuckled and walked back over towards the pool table to join the rest of his friends. Patrick began to do a lazy crawl, an attempt to avoid any more confrontation. He made his way to the backroom and sat up, resting against a wall. He felt his head, under his hair he felt bits of glass and liquid blood feeling. Breathing heavily, he tried as hard as he could to calm down. He finally managed to get himself to his feet and staggered to the bar in the backroom. Grabbing some napkins he tried to put pressure on his head. After stopping the bleeding, he went into the bathroom. A man lay there again, this time Patrick just wanted a look at himself in the mirror. He checked his head where he'd been hit. He looked like a mess but he didn't much care cause most people in the bar didn't look much better.

EDIT: Fixed some grammer. On the fly when I did it orginally.

This post has been edited by Mr.Funny12 on Tuesday, Apr 24 2012, 19:27

[Ziggy455]

Miller swam in darkness as muffled voices echoed in and out of clarity. What happened? He remembered drinking his scotch, and then suddenly he was out of it. “You okay buddy?” echoed a voice in the darkness.

He stirred lightly when suddenly the feeling of freezing cold water hit his skin. He shot awake with a yell and scrambled to his feet. Water dripped down his from his head onto jumper and jeans. It was absolutely freezing! He wiped himself down and went to ruffle his soaked hair, he shot his hand back and sucked air in through his pursed lips. He felt like sh*t and his head was blaring like he’d finished not only the bottle of scotch but the rest of the bar too. He felt the lump on his head from where the ball had struck. “Uh, what happened?” he asked, a man stood next to him with a look of relief.

“You good mister?” asked the man with his arms lightly raised as if to catch him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright.” The bag! Where was his bag? He went around the corner and peeked down only to find his duffel bag where he had dropped it. He grabbed it with an exasperated sigh of relief and shoved it onto his back, and that was where it was staying! The man followed him.

“You took quite bump there man, and you’re more worried about the bag?” he asked bewildered. Miller looked at the pool table, the aftermath of a small bar brawl was evident. A few smash glasses rested on the pool table as well as spilt beer and a broken pool cue. The patrons must have been dragged outside. Miller pulled out a few notes of cash and handed them to the man.

“Thanks for pulling me out of the carnage.” The man’s eyes widened at the clean crisp cash and he gave a nod and a wave as Miller hastily left the Backroom. He didn’t feel like staying in there, he wanted some peace but not upstairs. The Main Room would do, especially since his thousand-dollar tab was barely spent. He couldn’t keep this cash on him though, just in case anything else happened to him. He peeked into the empty toilets and looked around the room, he scanned under the small gaps of each cubicle; empty. All of them empty.

A ventilation shaft must be in here, there’s got to be one. He knew there was because he could hear the commotion from the other room through a tinny kind of echo. His eyes scanned around until he noticed it above one of the cubicles. He climbed up and after what felt like an hour, he managed to pry the stiff frame from the wall, it cut his fingertips lightly and he found himself hiding more than once in the cubicle from another patron but eventually he pried it open. The bag slipped off his shoulders and was stuffed far back in the vent, just in reach. The strong warm smell of piss filled his nostrils as he stepped back down. The vent casing went back on with more ease this time.

Miller stumbled to a urinal and carefully leaned his head on the porcelain, being ever so careful as to not bump his head again. As he pissed he felt himself slowly get more tired. He was tired because he hadn’t slept in the last few days. After another splash of water and a quick clean, he headed into the Main Room, the barman in here giving him a nod of recognition as he handed him a scotch on the rocks. “I’ll keep em coming.” He said coolly. Miller nodded and wondered about the capabilities of having that much cash as he took another sip of his much cooler drink his hand lightly span the cup so the ice moved fluidly in a dark brown like blur.

There weren’t any pool games in her which meant his head would be safe while he got drunk for the rest of the night. Viiiiibrate-

He gripped his phone quickly and looked at the name: Cassie.

Cassie hadn’t text him in weeks, not since the she had made her decision. He was surprised to see her name pop up in his phone, and if he was honest with himself, this was the last person he’d expect to pop up on a phone. He clicked the open message button:

Jackson, your brother is here and he’s acting really weird. He thinks ur hiding here? What have you got yourself into? He’s flipping out at me xx



No time to text, his head hurt too much to put two words together. He hit the little green phone button.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

Ring-

“Jackson?”

“Cassie.” Her voice wasn’t a comfort. It only made him more angry.

“Jax, Richie is going mental,” she began to whisper, “and I think he’s trying to use me so you’ll come over.”

“He’ll be at a loss then, I’m not coming over.”

“Do you have to take such a tone with me?”

“Yes.” He was being flat out rude on purpose, just like she had been. Cassie sighed down the phone and there was another outburst of muffled shouting from Richie.

“He’s not here for f*ck sake! I’ve got him on the phone, here!” Cassie tried to calm him. Miller waited for her reply but it wasn’t her voice that responded.

“Richie, you f*cking leech. I want my money! It’s –my- money! And I-,” Richie kicked or punched something. Miller hoped it was Cassie, “I know you and Cassie had a bit of a damp meet, I don’t give a f*ck. Just give me my money!”

“You’ll have to find me first and I’d hurry, I’m leaving soon.” He hung up, a smile protruded onto his face as he thought of Richie screaming at Cassie full force. Two junkies in one room much like two teapots boiling but still on the hob.

He swallowed the rest of the scotch hard and raised his hand for another drink. The clock began to move slowly, his ears buzzed and he could feel the ramifications of the alcohol as he began to become more intoxicated. Faces blurred past him as he made it back to the bar. The bartender gave him a nod as he was cleaning some glasses.

“You got nowhere else to be?” he asked.

“Nah.” Miller replied taking another drink, the bartender gave a small chuckle and left to go into the other room. Then the main doors lightly swung open and the cold of outside snuck in, dousing the log fireplace in the corner where the old soldiers discussed old stories. sh*t he’s got me! He’s got me now thought Miller as the doors remained askew. Nobody entered the bar for a few moments and then a lone man walked in with his hoody up. He came in, was handed a bottle of Vodka from a random patron and went and sat in a dark corner, the only light from the fire that flickered strong.

“Bit dramatic.” Miller said to himself with a chuckle and another sip. He’d almost shat himself!

[Typhus]

Archie

Archie looked up at the man and sighed, it was the same old story. The humans came into his home, had some water and fell asleep. Sometimes they began fighting, he didn't know why, but he guessed it was over women. The one love both men and dogs seemed to share.
God knows they didn't have much else in common, Archie was a pit bull terrier with a sleek white coat and sharp brown eyes, the world he was born into seemed to be controlled by a species of hairless ape.
Oh, most of them were kind enough, in the dumb way that animals often were. And as he saw the barmaid nudge the drunk, he chuckled affectionately inside. She was a good one, that girl, she always had time for him, always there with a kind word and a scratch behind the ear.
It was more than he could say for the man who stood behind the bar, slowly cleaning a glass and looking at the sleeping man with quiet disgust.

"That man stole my life." Archie thought, supressing a growl. "He stole me and locked me up in this awful place, and one day, one day..."

An image suddenly appeared in his brain, his master was on the floor in a puddle of blood, Archie had his teeth latched onto his flabby, wrinkled throat. And he was tearing and ripping and shaking.
Yes, shaking, shaking with euphoria, shaking with the joy one only feels after a good fight.
He shook his head, quietly lapping up his drool, and tried to calm down.

"No more fights," he told himself, "those days are gone, over, done with."

But not forgotten, you can never forget your past.
No, he couldn't forget, his old life always found a way to sneak in to his mind. He remembered everything, he had been a fighter, a great fighter. And in the parking lots and parks all over the city, his old master had given him free reign.
He remembered every battle, every bite and scratch, every jaw full of bloody flesh, every wounded howl of every dog he ever mauled. He had been special, he was a hero, a superstar.
But then they came. The other apes, with their kind words and easy smiles, who mingled kindness with nets and poisons and cages.
And for weeks he was imprisoned, torn away from his old life, the life they found so uncivilised. The others chattered amongst themselves at night, driven mad with fear, barking about how certain death awaited those who weren't picked by a human.
Well, the humans came. Oh yes, they strolled in and inspected Archie as if he was a piece of meat.

Look at those ears! Let's grab that tail, I don't like the look of that snout, scars all over.

And to his shame, he took it, he licked their hands, he cast his eyes down and he played the slave. Eventually, the bar-man purchased him. And Archie was a model of civility, he didn't bark when he was bundled into a foul smelling station wagon, and he never uttered a sound when all the humans kept him awake with their constant shouting and singing.
He just sat there, as he sat that night, smelling the drunken mans piss and never taking his eyes off his kindly, benevolent master.

"I want you alone," he grinned, "alone. Just you and me. And I want you to bend down real close, show me that thick, juicy neck of yours."

He licked his lips and a dark glint danced in his eyes.

"And when I see that neck, maybe I'll just take a nibble, maybe I'll just take a tiny little nibble."

This post has been edited by Typhus on Tuesday, Apr 24 2012, 20:45

[El Zilcho]

Brilliant Typhus, what an original viewpoint. A dog fighter as a character, love it.

[Ziggy455]

QUOTE (El Zilcho @ Tuesday, Apr 24 2012, 21:23)

Brilliant Typhus, what an original viewpoint. A dog fighter as a character, love it.

I found myself loving that piece too.

[Dr-Mayhem111]

Mickey comes back the next day for some more good liquor but this time at 12:45 am. He had a very rough day and he needed to feel a buzz and make plans for something that apparently was confidential. As he enters the bar he sees' Wussy once again and greets him but Wussy did not seem too happy to see Mickey. "Hello my friend, how are you doing?" Mickey greets to Wussy. "Hey man, I'm fine how are you?" Wussy replies. "I'm doing okay but I'll be doing great if you can serve that drink you served last night." Mickey chuckles. "Coming right up." Wussy replied. Mickey sits at the bar and takes out a notebook and starts to write and make sketches of what seems to be a place where he is looking for something or someone. Wussy serves Mickey his drink and Mickey thanks him, but Wussy also took a glance at his writing but not the sketching which was on the previous page. All Wussy saw was "Видя распространение алкогольных напитков, я обнаружил подозрительный бармен, который выглядел очень знакомым, а осенью Советской России. Я боюсь, что его жизнь должна прийти к концу, когда я начинаю планы г-н Петрович." But since he couldn't speak Russian or read it he had no idea what Mickey was writing about but he remembered what he saw and wrote it down on a piece of paper.

"Please excuse me while I go to the facilities." Mickey slurs to Wussy after having ten shots of 50 year old moonshine. "Where is the bathroom?" Mickey asks Wussy. Wussy tells him where it is and Mickey made his way to the bathroom. As Mickey was in the bathroom, Wussy looked into Mickey notebook and saw alot more stuff. He saw sketches like blueprints and writing but it was in Russian so he quickly copied it to the same piece of paper he was writing on. He hears the toilet flush and Wussy puts everything the way it was. Mickey returns to the bar, pays for his drinks, picks up his stuff and said his goodbyes and left the bar. Wussy was feeling more and more suspicious of Mickey actions so he tails him, Mickey was on foot but he was walking fine it was like he was acting drunk. Mickey gets a phone call and Wussy gets back and tries to remember what he heard. "Здравствуйте, мистер Петрович .... Да плане все в порядке .... Я не могу не согласиться .... У меня есть препятствие .... его зовут Wussy Рид .... Он хвостохранилища меня, он думает, что я не заметил .... Я не думаю, что он говорит или читает русские .... Я установил Макаров во второй пол в ванной комнате .... Хорошо, до свидания." Mickey continues to walk and Wussy turned around back to the bar.


When he returns, he quickly wrote down what he heard but he wrote it the way he heard not the actual Russian language. In Mickey's conversation, Wussy noticed a few words that shocked him.... Petrovic, Makarov, and Wussy.

This post has been edited by Dr-Mayhem111 on Wednesday, Apr 25 2012, 23:55

[Mr.Funny12]

He staggered out of the backroom finally, after awakening. The pool stick he broke, lay near the door. He looked around and noticed an Eastern European guy speaking with the bartender. Confused, hungover and still aching from the fight last night he wen't to the bar. He drank abit and let his thoughts come together once again.

"Nobody even noticed me last night did they?" he asked himself. He saved a man from certain death and not a sole in the bar gave him any recognition. The bar was mostly empty now, and he thought about leaving.

"Where would I go?" he thought to himself as he prepared to leave.

Patrick walked outside the front door to the street. He looked around a bit taking in the environment. His emotions over took him again and it all went to his head.

"Why live if I'm invisible" he though.

" I have no friends, no home and and" where the last words he said before he stepped out into the road infront of a passing eighteen-wheeler.

[glenn tha killer]

My characters name is Andre Philp Willis

Andre walks into the bar, its just opened. Normally bars arnt his seen he`s used to night clubs and music. He unfastens his leather Jacket and takes his Detox Beats off. Loud rap music is blaring out of them;

"Top Dogg, bite 'em all, nigga burn the sh*t up
D-P-G-C my nigga turn that sh*t up
C-P-T, L-B-C, yeah we hookin' back up
And when they bang this in the club baby you got to get up"

He turns it off after getting nasty looks off other customers. He slowly walks over to the bar [using his custom swag walk]. The Barman gawks at him for a moment then sighs.

"Eh man, `yo have any strong sh*t. Im having a hard time.....hit me with some hard ass motherf*cking Whiskey" He says, his L.A accent clearly being heard.

"Sure, ill do that" He replied as casual as can be.

"I heard a cracker got hit by a car just about a day ago. People been sayin` it was a suicide, right up the road from here too"

"It could of been. Fella I aint interested in what sh*t you have to say. I work here all day the last thing I need is some city boy yapping on about some Mic who got hit by a car!"

"Bitch Please! I`m just tryin`to talk to yo`! The I get this sh*t! I aint done nothing wrong!..........Ow! Ow! I know what it is....YOUR A RACIST!!"

"Shut the f*ck up!"

"Ow! So you aint even fighting it!"

Andre then spits on the barman. Although the barman fearfully serves him Andre then takes a seat in one of the booths and starts listening to his music.

[blitz]

Thought I'd give this a go, seems fun.

I've been writing quite a bit lately, not sure if it's any good at all, feedback is welcome.

I also thought it'd be fun to use the bartender as the main character. If that's allowed, of course.


It certainly would have been easier to be on the other side of the counter, Adam McCormick, the bartender, thought. Not having to hear everyone's spilled sorrows, their endless ramblings, and their terrible sense of humor. Not having to find a way to amuse them every time they asked for an old bar tale, or having to carefully pick a fine beverage for every customer who simply asked him for a drink. Having to explain to suspicious customers that no, he did not sell cocaine, nor ecstasy, nor heroin, nor marijuana, nor even shrooms.

It was nearly the end of his shift and Adam stood to take out the trash. He opened the back door and into the alleyway, where he found a man leaned against a wall, he had a gun in his hand. The man was small, he was a bit chubby and he was bald. He was wearing a big vest on top of a plaid shirt, ragged jeans and black Chuck Taylor's.

Adam's first reaction would have been to drop the trash bag, turn around and run back inside; but something made him stop, he never knew what it was. The trauma, the adrenaline rushing through his veins, or the sudden shock, he never knew. All he knew is that he stood there, and after a few seconds, he noticed that the man's eyes were closed and he was whispering something to himself. Adam opened the trash can and put the bag inside, then closed the lid. The man's eyes opened quickly at the sound of the metal trash's bin clinking against the trashcan itself.

"Are you okay, sir?" Adam asked, before he could be asked something else. "I'm fine." He responded, trying to hide the gun behind his legs. "Why are you carrying a gun?" Adam asked. "To end my life." The man said sternly, to Adam's surprise. He proceeded to rise the gun up to his head. Adam quickly flinched, "Woah! Sir, please calm down!" He yelled. The man shook his head, tears strolled down his face. "No, my wife left me, she took the kids, the house, she took everything. I'm living in the streets!" He said, lips trembling. Adam slowly dragged his feet closer to the man, "I'm begging you sir, please put it down." He said. The man shook his head. "No, no, no, I already made up my mind." Adam moved closer to the man, "You're not thinking right, come on, I'll get you a drink." Adam continued, as calmly as possible. The man relaxed a little as he said it, then slowly started putting the gun down. "Easy, there, it's all good. It's all good. It's going to be okay." Adam whispered. The man completely dropped the gun to the floor, then started to cry.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so stupid." He continuously said as Adam lead him towards the Main Room. He sat him down on a stool and got him a beer, which the man slowly sipped. "I can't believe I nearly ended my life." He said, tears still rolling down his puffy cheeks. Adam smiled, "It's okay. It's a bar, we deal with stuff like this all the time." He said. The man finished the beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm gonna get my life back. You sir, are my savior. Thank you."

With that, he stood up and ran outside. Adam smiled as he did so, he then let out a chuckle. Having been working at the bar for only a year, he had already encountered rarer situations. He let out a sigh as he cleaned the counter one last time, and smiled as he reflected on what he had just done.

[ItsOnlyAce]

QUOTE (Dr-Mayhem111 @ Wednesday, Apr 25 2012, 05:31)

Mickey comes back for some more good liquor but this time at 12:45 am. He had a very rough day and he needed to feel a buzz and make plans for something that apparently was confidential. As he enters the bar he sees' Wussy once again and greets him but Wussy did not seem too happy to see Mickey. "Hello my friend, how are you doing?" Mickey greets to Wussy. "Hey man, I'm fine how are you?" Wussy replies. "I'm doing okay but I'll great if you can serve that drink you served last night." Mickey chuckles. "Coming right up." Wussy replied. Mickey sits at the bar and takes out a notebook and starts to write and make sketches of what seems to be a place where he is looking for something or someone. Wussy serves Mickey his drink and Mickey thanks him, but Wussy also took a glance at his writing but not the sketching which was on the previous page. All Wussy saw was "Видя распространение алкогольных напитков, я обнаружил подозрительный бармен, который выглядел очень знакомым, а осенью Советской России. Я боюсь, что его жизнь должна прийти к концу, когда я начинаю планы г-н Петрович." But since he couldn't speak Russian or read it he had no idea what Mickey was writing about but he remembered what he saw and wrote it down on a piece of paper. "Please excuse me while I go to the facilities." Mickey slurs to Wussy after having ten shots of 50 year old moonshine. "Where is the bathroom?" Mickey asks Wussy. Wussy tells him where it is and Mickey made his way to the bathroom. As Mickey was in the bathroom, Wussy looked into Mickey notebook and saw alot more stuff. He saw sketches like blueprints and writing but it was in Russian so he quickly copied it to the same piece of paper he was writing on. He hears the toilet flush and Wussy puts everything the way it was. Mickey returns to the bar, pays for his drinks, picks up his stuff and said his goodbyes and left the bar. Wussy was feeling more and more suspicious of Mickey actions so he tails him, Mickey was on foot but he was walking fine it was like he was acting drunk. Mickey gets a phone call and Wussy gets back and tries to remember what he heard. "Здравствуйте, мистер Петрович .... Да плане все в порядке .... Я не могу не согласиться .... У меня есть препятствие .... его зовут Wussy Рид .... Он хвостохранилища меня, он думает, что я не заметил .... Я не думаю, что он говорит или читает русские .... Я установил Макаров во второй пол в ванной комнате .... Хорошо, до свидания." Mickey continues to walk and Wussy turned around back to the bar. When he returns, he quickly wrote down what he heard but he wrote it the way he heard not the actual Russian language. In Mickey's conversation, Wussy noticed a few words that shocked him.... Petrovic, Makarov, and Wussy.

Are we still on the same day? Or is it a new day? I'm confused. It seemed like on your post, a day had already passed by and you didn't really let the other people a chance to catch up.

[Dr-Mayhem111]

QUOTE (ItsOnlyAce @ Wednesday, Apr 25 2012, 19:33)

QUOTE (Dr-Mayhem111 @ Wednesday, Apr 25 2012, 05:31) Mickey comes back for some more good liquor but this time at 12:45 am. He had a very rough day and he needed to feel a buzz and make plans for something that apparently was confidential. As he enters the bar he sees' Wussy once again and greets him but Wussy did not seem too happy to see Mickey. "Hello my friend, how are you doing?" Mickey greets to Wussy. "Hey man, I'm fine how are you?" Wussy replies. "I'm doing okay but I'll great if you can serve that drink you served last night." Mickey chuckles. "Coming right up." Wussy replied. Mickey sits at the bar and takes out a notebook and starts to write and make sketches of what seems to be a place where he is looking for something or someone. Wussy serves Mickey his drink and Mickey thanks him, but Wussy also took a glance at his writing but not the sketching which was on the previous page. All Wussy saw was "Видя распространение алкогольных напитков, я обнаружил подозрительный бармен, который выглядел очень знакомым, а осенью Советской России. Я боюсь, что его жизнь должна прийти к концу, когда я начинаю планы г-н Петрович." But since he couldn't speak Russian or read it he had no idea what Mickey was writing about but he remembered what he saw and wrote it down on a piece of paper. "Please excuse me while I go to the facilities." Mickey slurs to Wussy after having ten shots of 50 year old moonshine. "Where is the bathroom?" Mickey asks Wussy. Wussy tells him where it is and Mickey made his way to the bathroom. As Mickey was in the bathroom, Wussy looked into Mickey notebook and saw alot more stuff. He saw sketches like blueprints and writing but it was in Russian so he quickly copied it to the same piece of paper he was writing on. He hears the toilet flush and Wussy puts everything the way it was. Mickey returns to the bar, pays for his drinks, picks up his stuff and said his goodbyes and left the bar. Wussy was feeling more and more suspicious of Mickey actions so he tails him, Mickey was on foot but he was walking fine it was like he was acting drunk. Mickey gets a phone call and Wussy gets back and tries to remember what he heard. "Здравствуйте, мистер Петрович .... Да плане все в порядке .... Я не могу не согласиться .... У меня есть препятствие .... его зовут Wussy Рид .... Он хвостохранилища меня, он думает, что я не заметил .... Я не думаю, что он говорит или читает русские .... Я установил Макаров во второй пол в ванной комнате .... Хорошо, до свидания." Mickey continues to walk and Wussy turned around back to the bar. When he returns, he quickly wrote down what he heard but he wrote it the way he heard not the actual Russian language. In Mickey's conversation, Wussy noticed a few words that shocked him.... Petrovic, Makarov, and Wussy. Are we still on the same day? Or is it a new day? I'm confused. It seemed like on your post, a day had already passed by and you didn't really let the other people a chance to catch up.

I forgot to put "the next day", I edited it just now.

[ItsOnlyAce]

QUOTE (ItsOnlyAce @ Thursday, Apr 26 2012, 00:04)

I understood that it was the next day, but the rest of the characters aren't there yet. You skipped a whole day without the rest of the characters catching up. Your part of the story and the night advanced too quickly To Dr-Mayhem111

This post has been edited by ItsOnlyAce on Thursday, Apr 26 2012, 04:14

[TinTinn]

'He's not calling back' Wussy thought, still standing under a housing district bus-stop. He knew the only way he was going to get back to the bar was to walk in the torrential rain through a distant Red Light district. Wuss staggered into the rain storm basically blind. The rain so strong that he couldn't see ahead of him, but as he was running through the never ending waterfall, thoughts come into his mind about his life. You know them deep and meaningful thoughts that fall through the cracks in our unconscious mind when we are bored and seeking the truth.

He finally reached the bar soaking wet and fortunately a barmaid found a towel somewhere in the storage room. Wuss put it against his face and quickly pulled away, it smelt of beer. 'Gave me a used towel, how dare she,' he thought, drying his shirt and pants. It was late and he knew some rooms were vacant, so he grabbed the keys and headed to Room 17 for a goodnight sleep.

Reed awoke from an argument in the next room and he knew who it was; the sleazy room maid and another desperate customer, "Joey, you told me $700, you lied but I will take no less than $500!" she yelled, waking Wuss.

*Thump, thump* "Kramer, it's me pal', open the door," a voice came from the outside. He knew the voice very well, actually, it made him cringe to hear it. He rushed to the door and grabbed his old friend in, "I told you not to use my real name around here... I actually told you not to come looking for me either," Wuss said, "Who's going to fall for the name 'Wussy Reed', seriously, it sounds like a gimmick," the airforce buddy said, "Look, I'm fine were I am and what I'm doing, I didn't run away from the NAVY for no reason," Wussy said, revealing his real name to be Kramer. "I left the airforce because they controlled me, and what I did, 'you do this, you do that', I have my own life," yells Kramer. His friend replied, "Look, the NAVY has been monitoring everything you have been doing for the past twelve years so we haven't lost much contact," Wuss looks out the window down onto the street, "What do you want from me," he asked, "One more mission, just the two of us, 10K and we split it and both go our ways,"... Kramer is tempted, "You know what, get out of here now," he said as he shoved him towards the door, "They told me not to tell you Wuss but ex-soviet members are after you and we need to get you as far away as possible, three Russians are after you and me for what we did back in 97'," there is a long silence for a while, and the argument stops from the other room, "Just watch your back Kramer, because things are going to get messy," he replied, "Alright, thanks Chuck," Kramer replied.

The church bell rang across the street, the sun shined on the outline of Kramer's face, 'I've been living a lie for too long' he thinks. That day, Kramer served Mike again, overhearing and seeing everything... too much; a plan has to be made.

This post has been edited by TinTinn on Thursday, Apr 26 2012, 05:36

[Craig]

"Blind Willie Shortbread for short. Or long, depends how you look upon it, sir."

The barman handed back a conspicuous ID card as Willie inched his coat up his back with a shrug. In front of him, a battered credit card lay crooked. It had clearly seen the inside of many a tab jar.

"That's what I thought, fool. I'll have a banana daiquiri with crushed ice."

Willie let what weight he had fall on an arm on the bar. With his free hand he ran some long fingers down the rim of a cocked trilby balancing on the front of his head. His heart quickened as he heard the barman hard at work on his drink.

"This had better be good too," Willie said quickly, "the last one I had was weak and feeble. I hope you sacked that lacky."

The barman just looked up, and glanced across to somebody else waiting for a drink, another thin man with a hat not unlike Willie's. The two men nodded and grunted in acknowledgment as Willie took his drink, cradling it like a serum.

"Thanks pal," instantly changing his tune. Keep the credit card, I'll start a tab."

As he inched between seats, Willie eyed the bar for a familiar face or a piercing set of eyes that would dare meet his own. When none surfaced, Willie took his own perch not far from the toilets at the rear, opting for convenience over being sociable. Across from him, a gruff looking man cleared his throat.

"You were lucky," he said with a croak, "just missed a fight. Big man. Went down hard."
"The biggest always do," Willie replied, "you have to make sure you get in there first, 'specially in a place like this dive."
"Truth, truth..." the man kept saying this until he was merely mouthing them, his nods disappearing into the bottom of an empty glass. Willie gestured at it.
"You want another one, old-timer?"
"Why the hell would I want another empty pint glass?"

Willie scowled, clearly not liking to matched in wit and more so with rude retorts. He snatched his own drink away, and covered it with a beer mat as if protecting it from flies. With a shuffle he was off and into the back room, one corridor of which leading into the toilets. The smell hit him instantly, and Willie soon found himself sniffing his own drink to mask it. The effort was about as futile as a car air freshener on a sulphur farm. Nearby, a battered leather sofa invited him over. Willie sunk so low into it he may as well have taken the cushions off and sat on those.

It was then that a familiar voice called from the direction of the toilets.

"Blind Willie, you son of a bitch. It's not been long enough, you crook".

[Ziggy455]

All characters, stories, recent activity and things to include has all been updated. On top of that, please note that more changes have been added to the main page just to stop people 'time lapsing' and such. Also, certain characters will be 'diced' or 'fated' if they act too inappropriately. Using a virtual 100 sided die, I estimate a percentage of the success or failure of a character's karma. So if you decide you're going to attack someone, be prepared to go to the hospital. (You can check if your character has been 'diced' by checking the 'What to include in your next story' box.)

Hope to see more brilliant stories, keep it up guys and I hope you're having fun.

Zigs.

[Craig]

Only just spotted the actual geography of the bar on the first page. Hopefully all the location stuff is right.

[Mr.Funny12]

QUOTE (Mr.Funny12 @ Wednesday, Apr 25 2012, 15:45)

He staggered out of the backroom finally, after awakening. The pool stick he broke, lay near the door. He looked around and noticed an Eastern European guy speaking with the bartender. Confused, hungover and still aching from the fight last night he wen't to the bar. He drank abit and let his thoughts come together once again. "Nobody even noticed me last night did they?" he asked himself. He saved a man from certain death and not a sole in the bar gave him any recognition. The bar was mostly empty now, and he thought about leaving. "Where would I go?" he thought to himself as he prepared to leave. Patrick walked outside the front door to the street. He looked around a bit taking in the environment. His emotions over took him again and it all went to his head. "Why live if I'm invisible" he though. " I have no friends, no home and and" where the last words he said before he stepped out into the road infront of a passing eighteen-wheeler.

Should my character be updated? I'm confused?

[Ziggy455]

QUOTE (Mr.Funny12 @ Thursday, Apr 26 2012, 19:22)

QUOTE (Mr.Funny12 @ Wednesday, Apr 25 2012, 15:45) He staggered out of the backroom finally, after awakening. The pool stick he broke, lay near the door. He looked around and noticed an Eastern European guy speaking with the bartender. Confused, hungover and still aching from the fight last night he wen't to the bar. He drank abit and let his thoughts come together once again. "Nobody even noticed me last night did they?" he asked himself. He saved a man from certain death and not a sole in the bar gave him any recognition. The bar was mostly empty now, and he thought about leaving. "Where would I go?" he thought to himself as he prepared to leave. Patrick walked outside the front door to the street. He looked around a bit taking in the environment. His emotions over took him again and it all went to his head. "Why live if I'm invisible" he though. " I have no friends, no home and and" where the last words he said before he stepped out into the road infront of a passing eighteen-wheeler. Should my character be updated? I'm confused?

Are you killing your character off? If so, then I'd have to update it. You've kind of left us on a cliffhanger so I am unaware of the status of your character.

[Mr.Funny12]

Indeed I am.

I'd like to come back with something better.