[The Bar]

Moderators
Ziggy455 (Creator)
El Zilcho (Founder)
Craig
[Possibly you!]
[Possibly you!]

Laying underneath a motorway in some distant unknown city, the bar lay dormant. Outside as snow filtered down onto the dark and murky concrete streets, patrons would enter the bar. Each one of them having their own story to tell in and out of the bar. Welcome to the haven of many, pull up a chair and order your poison. You're here for your own reasons.

Welcome to The Bar, here's something for you to read: The Bar is choc full of people, every hour of the day. Seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year. Be calm in the bar and and write properly, nobody is not saying the occasional conflict will happen but this is a largely populated bar. If your character does anything to stupid, he may just end up being taken out back by a regular and dumped in the dumpster. You dig? Play nice.

Friday Night

NPC	Description
Paddy O'Fallon	A beefy Irishman with an attitude as thick as his accent. He wears a stretched brown jumper with rolled up sleeves, a pair of polish black boots and tight black trousers. He is the owner and landlord of The Bar. Last Seen: Second floor storage with Elmo and Lee
Mitsy Grünewald.	A petite, blonde haired girl with several tattoos on her neck and arms. She is quite attractive but unfortunately a lesbian. She is of British descent and is head of the bar. Last Seen: Serving drinks in the Main Room.
Ricky Jones	An ex-Aryan brotherhood member. He is well stocked and bald with a trimmed beard. He is a bouncer and bartender and doesn't talk all that much. Last Seen: Beating up the brute outside who knocked out Elmo.
"Dead Eye" Jefferson	An avid billiards player with an eyepatch, who hasn't lost a game in 5 years. He visits the bar every other night to challenge anyone who dares ask for a game. Last Seen: Playing Billiards in the Backroom.

Patron	Username	Status	Location
Jackson Miller	Ziggy455	Alive and merely wounded	Backroom
Nero	El Zilcho	Alive	Back Room
Barty Gabble Archie	Typhus	Alive Alive	Backalley Main Room
Zinedine Kadir	Lethal Nizzle	Alive	Back Room
Lee Vincenzo Howard Scrudder Elmo Snow	AceRay	Alive Alive Unconscious	Main Room Out of Bar Main Room
Carson De Luca	ItsOnlyAce	Alive	Main Room
Todd Hoffman	TinTinn	Alive	Main Room
Blind Willie Shortbread	Craig	Alive	Back Room
Amani "The Warlord" Wilson	SIKSS66	Alive	Main Room
John Wilson	TUBBSthezombie	Unconscious	Ground floor toilets
Marlon Richman	Mokrie Dela	Alive	Out of Bar
Adam McCormick	Blitz	Alive	Main Room
Andre Philp Willis	glenn tha killer	Alive and merely wounded	Out of Bar

Room	Description
Main Room	The Entrance room into The Bar, the main room is a typical room. Rectangular with a log fireplace, a large mahogany bar at the other end and a sh*tload of tables too. Huge curtains cover the old glass windows at the front entrance.
Backroom	A smaller bar is in here, complete with bar memorabilia. Two pool tables are placed opposite each other as well as a jukebox and two cigarette machines, windows that peek into the alleyway and industrial area beyond are covered by curtains.
Ground floor Hallway	A normal looking hallway, full of portraits of famous patrons and such. It leads to the stairs up to the second floor, to the back alley outside and the toilets.
Ground floor toilets	Grimy looking and covered in graffiti, the toilets are covered in puke and sh*t. A broken condom machine is in there too and it is a common place for crack addicts to take a nice nap. You'd much prefer to piss outside.
Back alley	Imagine your typical looking back alley, but this one overlooks the Industrial area. Pretty ain't it?
Cleaning cupboard	A small room behind the main bar, used for cleaning products and such.
Second Floor storage room	A small room full of bar sh*t. Glasses, mats and chairs. Unused organs and keyboards.
Second Floor balcony bar	A small 'conference' like bar room which overlooks the industrial area at night, it has a bar, a pool table, a pinball table and a lot of MC memorabilia. It has one wall with glass all across it that leads out into a grimy balcony coated in cheap white chairs and tables, those plastic white ones nobody likes.
Second Floor toilets	Look downstairs in those toilets, you'd get the picture. Except the condom machine works here.
Basement	The largest room in The Bar, you are led down to the basement via a long hallways of stairs, inside is a cordoned off area full of poker tables while at the other end a dance floor and performance stage are set up and in between lays a bar.
Rooftop	The rooftop gives off a beautiful view of the Industrial section that can't be seen from anywhere else, the entrance is from the side of the bar up a fire escape in the Back alley or through the trapdoor behind the bar of the Conference Room. The small brick storage hut has a old couch leaned on it.
Cellar	Only a place for the talented workers, that cold feeling and strong smell of beer in a dingy metallic room only spells out one place. It is behind the bar in the basement and connects beer to every other room.

Patron	Recent Activity in The Bar
Jackson Miller	Jackson stood in the toilets, he headed into the backroom and following a heated argument with his crackhead brother, Richie, he settles down for a night of drinking, only to get knocked out by an askew flying 8 ball that knocks him out. He wakes up, heads into the Main Room and receives another threatening call. Hangs up and continues to get drunk.
Nero	Nero awaits patiently in the Back room for a rendezvous with his associates. He drinks a scotch on the rocks and silently takes in his surroundings, waiting for the meet up.
Barty Gabble	Barty Gabble removed his clothing, squatted down behind a dumpster in the backalley and prepares for a patron to come out so he may find his 'true love'. He thinks back to his younger years and his step-sister Mary. He finds humour in the thoughts of when he disembowled her cat and bashed up her tricycle. He laughs some more and returns to waiting. Archie Archie, one of the bartender's dogs sit patiently in the Main Room. He notices a sleepy Marlon then recounts his past and debates on whether or not to attack his owner. Feeling as downtrodden as the patrons, Archie wishes he was with his previous owner. He submits to his surroundings and prepares for another dull night. He notices Adam McCormick tending a bitter patron when he is suddenly approached by a ginger cat named Tigger, who after stating he killed her -to which he agrees and thinks was a necessity- she states God has sent her orders and that Archie may be able to get his life back.
Lee Vincenzo	He speeds off suddenly and passes The Bar, he comes to a stop near his home and finds his wife's lover. He confronts him weakly and after miserably losing his cool he is comforted by a stand worker. He sulks and enters The Bar's Main Room, he orders a glass of water and sulks as he eyes up the other patrons. As Elmo is knocked out, Lee is asked by Paddy to drag him upstairs into storage; where he discovers the .357. Howard Scrudder Howard, after bumping into Lee goes to see Maria. He enters her home and the two briefly talk before they embrace. Elmo Snow Elmo, a sprung oldie gets spruced up for the night, including his date a .357 Magnum, he heads to the bar for a night on the town. He notices Archie sitting at the bar and decides to strike up conversation with Jackson Miller. Unfortunately a brute of a man knocks him the f*ck out on the floor of the Main Room! He is dragged upstairs by Paddy and Lee.
Carson De Luca[/color]	Carson waits outside in the Alleyway, he simply starts outside and bumps into a disgruntled Patrick. They both head inside for a drink.
Tommy"Tank" Mckenna	Tank enters the bar and talks to one of the bartenders. He hopes to find work as a bouncer at the bar.
John Wilson	Wilson, a down on his luck lawyer is constantly worried about his safety due to a botched verdict. Downtrodden, he enters the bar and sparks up a conversation with a bartender and eventually stumbles off to the toilets where he collapses onto the dirty floor.
Marlon Richman	Marlon enters into the main room and orders a stiff drink. Being no match for it, he retreats to the toilet drunkenly and notices a passed out John Wilson before he returns back to the Main Room, half awake. He falls asleep but is woken up by the Lesbian Bartender who gives him a glass of water and offers him a cab. Marlon leaves the bar, more drunk than before and plans to return. He returns again after a day at work, he slumps down at the bar and prays for company.
Blind Willie Shortbread	Blind Willie Shortbread headed into the Main Room, after ordering a pint and barely conversing with another patron who discusses the main brawl, he slumps in the hallway near the toilets, only to be recognized by a familiar voice. The voice is of his friend Eddie, who tells him a lad by the name of Nero is waiting for somebody like Willy to show up. Shortbread takes the chance and goes into the Backroom; sparking a conversation with said Nero.
Adam McCormick	Adam McCormick goes out back to drop some trash. He notices a man with a pistol and in confidence asks his conflict. The man attempts to commit suicide with a gun but is stopped by Adam. He brings the suicidal man inside and Adam takes him to the Main Room and offers him a pint.
Andre Philp Willis	Andre Philp Willis enters the bar. He takes offence at a bartender's jests and accuses him of racial slandering. He, in turn, spits at the bartender. He is approached later by a gruff regular and is taken outside, beaten, and hospitalised. He discharges himself and returns home, only to weep over the anniversary of the death of his brothers.
Todd Hoffman	Todd enters the bar and discusses how he made it to America. He talks to a bartender for a while and then heads down into the basement to play poker while a small celebration takes place where the stage is.
Amani "The Warlord" Wilson	Amani enters the bar after a late shift, arriving out of a five year stint he bitterly remembers he enters the Main Room after the commotion in the back room. He settles down at the bar.
Tommy 'Tank' Mckenna	Tommy enters the bar, he settles down to have a few drinks and is recounted the story of the now fired Wussy. The two talk for a while before Tommy heads into the backalley. Wussy is dragged outside suddenly and flunged into a van. He goes back inside and settles down to a drink, talking to another bartender he hopes to get work as a bouncer.

The concept is simple, create a character and put him in your own story in The Bar, you can put the story wherever you like in or out of the bar, but if you plan on writing a story, you must join the board. The last place your character is when your story ends is what will be written on the character's board.

The Rules

Don't forget! Anything you write is in real time, and the next patron will hear/see/respond to what you've done. If you bottle a patron, another player may decide to bottle you back. If you fire off a gun, somebody may shoot you back. So be warned! There is no quarrelling here. If somebody stabs you, you will write effectively how you died, recovered or responded. This is purely a creative concept. Write about who you like, whether it's fifty or a thousand words. Go crazy, f*ck up the bar, start a fight. Barricade yourself in a room with a bottle of scotch. This is all for fun of course.

Rules and Instructions
Player/Player Interaction Your character is a person who is in the bar, they can respond and interact with other players in the bar if that player consents and agrees like so: You have just written a story and you want to talk to another player who is positioned at the bar. You will finish your story with 'Player 1 then went over and sat next to Player 2, and in turn Player 2 will respond correctly.
Playing 'the badass' Okay listen up, this is a bar, a bar when where people come to drink and we're expecting conflict now and again between patrons or their own story but in order to create a third dimensional character- YOU ARE NOT AN ACTION HERO. You don't have mad shooting skills, you can't kill people with your farts, and you sure as f*ck can't kick twelve burly bastards while drinking a Martini. Create a realistic character with flaws.
Fate When your character is attacked, in order to stop writers from just writing 'my character shot you in teh head and burns you to death!' the equilibrium of fate and cause and effect takes place. If you are going to do something to a patron, you must do it in the final line like so: 'Daniel went forward with his knife raised and brought it down onto Steven!' - Check the 'What to include in your next story' to see if your attack has killed him or not.
Recent Activity Recent Activity is an up to date status of each characters plotline. Whatever is placed in the box is the immediate previous event of that character and is 99% of the time the accurate and up to date action of the character to. Check up on it to see how Patrons in the Bar are doing.
What to include in your next story The 'What to include in your next story' is a small prototype fate mechanic which is issued by myself. Basically it consists of a small description of something that YOU MUST include in your story. This can include the outcome of an impending attack, the effect of an attack or anything else that keeps the story moving fluidly.
Character's color Don't forget to COLOR CODE your character's name in your preferred color so people can keep track of Patrons.
Writing stories Your character is in his own story. If another patron decides to enter your story, then you may choose to include him as long as you and the patron collaborate and agree. 90% of your time, you should focus on your own character and the creation of NPC characters that you can focus on.
Real time cause and effect If you are in the same room as another patron, that patron must include whatever action you just did in their next story (If you did anything that anybody would notice.)
Current Events Current events are incidents or actions that happen in the bar at one time or another. The Patrons in the bar may choose to include whatever action has just happened (before, after, or during) such as a bar fight, a song playing or anything else that happens. Check the Current affair board at the bottom to see what has happened.

Patron	Last seen..
Jackson Miller	Last seen in the Main Room, drinking in a corner.
Nero	Last seen waiting in the Backroom at the bar for someone.
Barty Gabble Archie	Last seen waiting outside in the Backalley. Last seen relaxing in the Main Room.
Lee Vincenzo Elmo Snow	Last seen with Elmo Snow and Paddy in Second floor Storage. Last seen knocked out in the Second floor Storage Room with Lee Vincenzo and Paddy the owner.
Carson De Luca	Last seen in the Backroom at the bar.
Todd Hoffman	Last seen in the Main Room at the Bar.
Blind Willie Shortbread	Last seen talking to Nero.
Amani "The Warlord" Wilson	Last seen in the Main Room at the Bar.
John Wilson	Last seen passed out in the ground floor toilets.
Marlon Richman	Last seen in the Main Room at the Bar.
Adam McCormick	Last seen in the Main Room at the Bar consoling a suicidal man.
Andre Philp Willis	Last seen at home, crying.
Howard Scrudder	Last seen embracing Maria in her home.

This post has been edited by Craig on Monday, May 14 2012, 20:44

[Craig]

"Modesto" Jessie Dennis wiped free sweat from his brow. Sat on the bus from his latest magic performance, the crowd hadn't been what you'd call kind. It was going fine until the fire in a basket routine, and then a woman in the front row decided she was against cruelty to wicker. Jessie was sure it was a ruse, maybe even a set-up from the event staff who hated him down to the very fibre of their follicles. Either way, she made no mistake of making her way up on stage and throwing herself on the burning basket. The crowd cheered and gasped, assuming it was part of the act. It wasn't. All "Modesto" could do was stand there, when Jessie actually wanted to break down as his semi-professional magical career went down the toilet. In his twelve year adventure, he had held his breath for over an hour, been impaled by plastic cutlery by eager party-going children, made a Vietnamese man disappear and turned a rabbit inside out. Nothing like this had ever happened, and all the former "Modesto" could do was cower in fear as the appreciative crowd quickly morphed into an angry mob at the sight of an old woman writhing around in pain on the floor, molten wicker clinging to her like a koala bear.

He needed a drink, that much was certain. With a lurch, Jessie was up and making his way down the aisle of the bus, trunk of party tricks thudding against his thighs as he pulled it along. It was late, with mothers clicking their tongues and rolling their eyes at this lowlife with a top hat. Eventually, after what seemed like a corridor of trial, Jessie reached the front cabin where a disinterested bus driver sat, more interested in counting the miles left.

"Excuse me, sir".
There wasn't a response.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't make me tap the sign, son," came a curt reply from the bus driver, who seemed to have inherited his voice from a fallen grizzly.
"I'm sorry but I was just wondering," Jessie said, clearing his throat, "is there anywhere around here a fellow might grab a drink?"
The bus driver glanced over with a tired expression, like a cow looking into the path of an oncoming train.
"Sure, there's a bar near the exit. There's a stop nearby. It's a rough crowd though... you might want to remove your hat."
Jessie had forgotten he was even wearing it.
"It's gone," he said a little too quickly, casting it aside and hitting a gentleman reading a magazine in the face. Jessie hadn't even noticed, his gaze fixed upon the driver eager for more information.
"There's a motel nearby too in case you get a little too, er," the bus driver looked Jessie up and down, "...fragile, shall we say."

By the time Jessie had found his wallet, his stop had arrived. He pulled his trunk of tricks along with him, the wheels tickling his heels. With a broken neon light, the bar greeted him.

"If things get a little rough," said Jessie to himself, "I can just break out some smoke bombs and slip out of the window."

[AceRay]

Lee

Lee stared at the gun lying innocently there on the ground, almost taunting him with its gaze. He picked up the grey gun with his soft hands. Looked down the barrel; a giddy feeling inside Lee lite up, like a kid in a candy shop. His head turned like a dart to the old man lying there muttering to himself. In a flash, Lee bolted out the door with the .357 concealed in his jacket and the bullets bouncing around in his pocket.

The only other place he could think of that wasn’t used was the downstairs bathroom. He dashed into the door, seeing Paddy walk into the mainroom in front. The sh*t hole was bare, except for another passed out guy on the flor. Lee rushed over to the mirror, door slamming behind, and stared at the reflection long and hard, clasping onto the bench and leaning over the stained sink. Tired, worn out face, greasy blonde hair. He hated it all. His hands shaking like crazy, Lee loaded the gun one bullet by one, a small tear falling down his face as he sniveled like never before. He took one look around at the smelling stench of the toilets and the guy lying there innocently before swallowing his gun, locked and loaded. Shut his eyes in preparation of the loud, noisy bang. His hands started to pull on the trigger.

It never came. Lee couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t there, yet. Placing the gun back on the bench, Lee stared at himself some more.

Lee: Last seen in the first floor bathroom.

[Vercetti21]

People looked the other way the moment they saw the wooden crucifix dangling from Jack Sinatra's neck. He took a seat at the bar and kept his mouth shut, ordering a tall draft beer with a crooked smile.

He sensed the uneasiness. He knew they didn't want him there. He felt the invisible stones being thrown at him.

The bartender, a petite tattooed fireball named Mitsy simply rolled her eyes as she filled Jack's glass. She took a step back from the bar as he slid a debit card towards her from across the counter. She looked at the card, then to Jack. "Not from around here, are you?"

As she sliced the card through the scanner and waited for his receipt to print, Jack touched the cold glass to his lips. "Close enough to know where your accent's from. Liverpool?"

Though she had a girlfriend, Mitsy couldn't help but send a quick smile towards the young gentleman. Though he clearly wasn't British or even European for that matter, he showed his ear for attentiveness and an interest in her unlike the other men. He wasn't obnoxious or funny or horny, only curious. She watched him take a few more sips from his glass, his eyes drooping and weary. His muscled frame clenched the beer and tilted it to the back of his throat, like a skeleton funneling ale through his mouth to wash out his ribs.

She nodded, pulling a glass from beneath the bar to clean with a dry towel. Before attending to another patron who approached her for a drink, she caught herself looking at Jack's crucifix again. He drank his beer calmly in the corner, but his mind turned through pages and pages of insecurities and doubts. He drank and drank until it was time to order another beer. Then he cleared his throat, and spoke up.

[Mr.Funny12]

Speedy

Speed's heart rate finally calmed down. He had escaped his captives and that horrid prison they kept him in. He was in a highly elevated position looking down upon the town. The air was cold, and it seemed be only getting colder. Speedy searched for a way of the roof of which he was on. "A ha!" speedy thinks to himself when he see's the gutter. He scurries over to the opening of the gutter. He looks in and see's nothing but a dark whole. In his head he thought about what choices he had. Be held captive again, die on this roof or plunge into the darkness. He dove.

At the bottom, he squeezed out onto the sidewalk. He was spooked at the sound of the footsteps of the apes. He saw a sewer and bolted for it. He squeezed between into it and took cover there. "It's cold, I need a place to stay..." wen't through his head. He looked towards some apartments. "No" he thought remembering that when most people saw creatures such as himself they usually were scared and tried to kill him. He looked to a resteraunt up the street. Warm climate and food served and in the garbage. "No.." he then said to himself remembering that most diners had a lot of booby traps and poisonous treats laying around and only death would find him there. He looked towards the bridge. Under it, alone was a pub. "Perfect" wen't through his head. He used the sewer for cover almost the whole way there. He scurried into the back alley and waited under the dumpster until the right moment. The door swung open, his opportunity was there and he took it. Fast as lighting he ran into the pub without being seen. Immediately he saw apes all over the place. He quickly took cover behind a nearby jukebox inbetween it and the wall. For hours he spectated the joint, seeing where it would be the safest place for him to make a new home. Finally he saw a small crack in the wall near the bar. When the time was just right he ran as fast as he could for it. Upon entering the whole, heavy footsteps of a booted man passed by. Spooked and almost sure he was caught he tempted to defend himself and get against the wall in hopes of the ape not being able to reach him. He waited but nothing ever happened. He soon realized that this whole in the wall was pretty roomy. He has room for food, and possibly to sleep and was pleased with such a roomy to home. He soon received a chill and curled into a ball. His eyes slowly lowered and soon he was fast asleep.


When he woke up, he took a look around. Nobody was around and he spotted something he thought was too perfect too pass up. A napkin. It was just feet outside the whole and it was just what he was looking for. He snatched it and dragged in back in through the whole in the wall into his new home. He soon grabbed it and shredded it a little bit. He then curled it into a circle, and made a formidable bed out of it. "Life is good, things truly are looking up from here" he thought. He nestled into his new bed and relaxed for a while. "What else do I need now?" he thought to himself. Instantaneously "Food!" popped into his head.

Speedy: Last seen in the backroom.

This post has been edited by Mr.Funny12 on Thursday, May 17 2012, 19:14

[Greenline]

Patricia Reed

The First day for Patricia in The Bar. She took a deep, soothing breath before she entered the Backroom, ready to start her work. The sound of whistles and the smell of beer decorated her first impression.

"Hey sexy," slurred one of the patrons, "they call me Dead Eye."

"Good for you." Answered the sexy, feminine voice that Patricia was so lucky to own.

Patricia wasn't like the other patrons, she was here to work. She was a stripper, just the right stripper for the kind of men who came here. A young girl with the most perfect facial symmetry, and the best possible body; she was there to entertain and keep the patrons in The Bar, and make sure they won't leave anytime soon. But her intentions were completely different...

She entered the dressing room - better known as the most isolated part of the backroom - and began to take her cellphone out of her pocket.

"I'm in." She said.

"Good, his name is Jack... Jack Sinatra." Came the answer.

"Got it, he won't ever see this sh*thole from the outside again." Assured Patricia's strong voice.

"Remember, don't break character and make sure to make it look like an accident!"

"Wilco."

Patricia: Last seen in Backroom.

[Mokrie Dela]

Marlon's next visit had him in a strange mood. He'd spent the drive home stuck in traffic. It was a warm day and beside him for forty minutes next to a convertable with a chesty blond in the front seat. The result was that, thought still self destructive, he was horny. On top of that, the traffic had pissed him off. He was ready to mow someone down.

The bar greeted him with the usual atmosphere, one that matched his mood.
He moved to the bar and had a drink. Again he spoke to no one. He considered hiring a prostitute, but he didn't deserve it, did he? The pleasures of the skin.... wasn't that his problem?

The door opened and closed. The gust of now-cool air following in another lowlife patron.
The scent stabbed at his attention though, the sharp muskiness that somehow made him even more desperate for coital companionship. He turned.

The woman was leggy, with a nice body. Her ass seemed tight, and he just wanted to bite it.

The woman looked at him, with a playful look, and Marlon, already slightly inhebriated, stood shakily. He approached her but she ignored him. He noticed her pause by the door, but, after a second, entered the back room. Marlon followed.

"Hey sexy," A man said with a surly twang in his voice. "They call me Dead Eye."
"Good for you." Her voice was as sexy as her appearance. She walked on.
Marlon moved toward 'Dead Eye' and got right in his face. He reached down and reached out for the man's groin.
"Back off." Marlon snarled through gritted teeth as he twisted. 'Dead Eye' went down.

The woman entered through a doorway. He was going to get lucky - to hell with whether he deserved it or not, he wanted it.

After a short delay, Marlon followed the woman into the room...

[Craig]

I was a good chunk of the way through updating the first post but messed a bit of the code up and couldn't see where because I don't understand tables at all, so I just left it. Sorry. I'm fine maintaining existing table fields, but adding new ones and feeling confident about it? Not my bag, it turns out.

[Ziggy455]

QUOTE (Craig @ Thursday, May 17 2012, 13:59)

I was a good chunk of the way through updating the first post but messed a bit of the code up and couldn't see where because I don't understand tables at all, so I just left it. Sorry. I'm fine maintaining existing table fields, but adding new ones and feeling confident about it? Not my bag, it turns out.

Not a problem, brother. I'm all good with the coding.

[Vercetti21]

Jack Sinatra was pissing in the dark. That's the expression he liked to use when when he was facing walls of work in the file room. Jack was the expert prowler. They called him names like "Panther" and "Tiger" at work, but he stuck it out through their cheap laughs and fake smiles for the money they threw at him. Every once in awhile there was one rogue manilla folder of utmost importance to be found, or a female client to be charmed and sold to the uptown lawyers he worked for. Now, the musty stench of the pitch-black bathroom was unshakable. He actually was pissing in the dark.

As his eyes began to painfully adjust, Jack grinned at the failure of such simple technology as a light bulb. Flies buzzed around the single flickering light, casting pale grey flashes of the graffiti covering the walls. Had there been a power surge? Had someone smashed the light?

Jack stumbled out of the darkness of the downstairs toilets, quickly running soap and water over his hands before using a paper towel to open the door. The nauseating scent of the bathroom followed him down the back hall. He passed unknown faces and beautiful women; the scent of sex and candy and disease lingered in his mind.

After two drinks and a proper piss, Jack went out to the back alley and pinched a smoke between his teeth when a stranger asked to bum a cigarette from him. He obliged, because it was one less cigarette away from death.

The stranger exchanged pleasantries with Jack. When they asked if he was related to Frank Sinatra - "like the singer!" - Jack decided to light one up anyway.

This post has been edited by Vercetti21 on Thursday, May 17 2012, 21:33

[Mr.Funny12]

Speedy felt hungry. His eyes darted around the bar wondering where he could find food. After a few minutes of watching the crowd he saw a piece of bread get dropped and strike the floor. With his eyes locked, his stomach growling he darted for it without care for who would see him. He snatched it, and began dragging it by his teeth back to his new home. He got it just outside the whole in the wall when he saw somebody coming. He sprang up and ran inside his house. Sure he was seen, he took cover in his whole in the wall. The man walked up, Speedy was sure that his new home was compromised. The man took a knee, and picked up the piece of bread outside his door. Feeling utter defeat, he held himself back from attacking the thief. He knew doing that would be certain death and he'd be evicted from his new home. His muscles soon went weak. "All that effort for what?" he began to think. Depressed, he laid down.

He saw a piece of cheese drop on to the floor in front of his door. "No way!" he thought. "This has to be a booby trap." He knew there wasn't a lucky chance like this. His stomach growled, and he decided he had to eat. He popped his head out of the whole in the wall. He took a look around. A few men at the bar and one sitting in the booth in the back. He ran out, grabbed the cheese and ran back inside. He stood on his back feet, up right with the cheese in his hands. He nibbled on it, tasting first. After finishing he realized he should have saved it. Out of no where another piece of cheese hit the floor in the same spot. Now he was suspicious, he knew that was too good to be true. But his hunger was growing. He looked out. He saw a patron at the bar who was looking in his direction. "Was this guy friendly? Was he one that wouldn't tell anyone about me?" I'll test it a bit, and make sure he's cool. He walked out slowly and grabbed the cheese. He brought it back into his house. This time he put it off in the corner. He had food, a bed and a new warm home. "Life is good" went through his head.

[Greenline]

Patricia was putting her cellphone back into her purse when she heard the door of the dressing room open.

"Piss --," She remembered that she had to stay in character, "Oh hi there, what's your name?"

"Marlon." The man said, you could tell he was tipsy because of his posture.

"Don't you think you didn't choose the right time to come here? I was getting dressed." She said with an incredibly fake smile and a tone in her voice that would make the worst actors cringe.

"So, let's get to business!" Came Marlon's answer.

Patricia was nervous, she thought that she was caught, but as soon as she remembered that she was a stripper, she calmed down.

"Well, how much does buisiness cost for you?..."

She thought about all the possibilities, all the information she could extract from this guy about Jack Sinatra. Because, so far, her case was in a miserable state. She didn't have the slightest idea what Jack looks like or where he is, for that matter. She just knew that Jack was in the bar... and that she was supposed to end his life.

This post has been edited by Greenline on Friday, May 18 2012, 03:50

[SCAR Cheatulies]

Minnie Ache entered the Main Room of The Bar before casting a slow glance around the building he just entered. His gaze was as cold as a winter night in New York, more solid than the most frozen block of ice, and more expressionless than a hipster's painting. His eyes were unblinking as he scanned the entirety of the room, but underneath his eyes were dark, black circles, giving evidence to the fact that he may not have gotten much sleep recently. His facial expression was mostly blank, if not serious and somewhat angry, appearing to be the type of man that any normal person wouldn't want to mess with. But if one was able to easily read the emotions of others, if his eyes were looked into, someone may have been able to see just a hint of nervousness from him.

For what he planned on doing, it only made sense as to why this man was nervous. He lead an unlucky streak through much of his miserable, unfortunate life. It started when he was born, whenever his mother, Misses Ache, was expecting a girl, but got a boy and decided to name him as a female anyways. This continued on through school, where he was constantly made fun of because of his name. After graduation, he was able to go through college easily enough and major with a business associate's degree, but he then got a job as a stock broker in a stock company that was illegally selling fake stock to innocent people, ruining their lives, which he was completely aware of, but felt guilty about.

His guilt lead to a major drug addiction, with his poison of choice being pain killers. He would go through one or two bottles a day, and was honestly expecting to have major kidney failure before the thirty-something year old reached fifty. But tonight, any luck he had would end. His drug dealer was killed in a raid on his apartment the day before, and Minnie only had one bottle left in his left pocket. His last name, Ache, was fitting for him.

Minnie looked the part of the stereotypical business man, wearing dress shoes, black slacks, and a white business shirt with a grey tie on, a black trench coat on over that. His beretta stirred nervously under his coat, but it was too late, for the bar door closed shut behind him, and he was in for the ride. He stayed silent, still looking about the room for a minute or so, before then walking over to sit in a booth at one corner of the room. If there was no booth, then it would be a corner table. His eyes continued to look around, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make a move.

[glenn tha killer]

Andre woke, went into the bathroom of his empty apartment he called home. He shaved and tied his dreads up. He looked in the mirror, his dark eyes glared back at him. "f*ck!" he screamed. He was sick of the depressing, angry macho sh*t. Today was a new day, a fresh start.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He picked up his phone text-ed some friends got dressed and headed out the door. The day was great, what he needed. When he was on his way home, on a bus he saw that strange bar again. Last time he went looking for it he couldn't find the place. Without waiting any further he pressed the stop button and got off. He quickly crossed the street and entered the pub. He took a nice seat in the corner. He had a bottle of pisswaffe and chilled out.

After a while he began to get cold and looked through the door leading into the back room. He saw a man sleeping ruff snuggled up in a corner. There was a few other odd looking characters in the room, but he decided to go for it. He moved into the back room. He had only sat down when his phone began to ring, a man shot a nasty look at him, but he ignored it. The person on the phone wasnt answering and he began to beckon "hello hello can you here me!".The guy in the corner also gave him a horrible glare.Andre decided it was best to go out to the back alley, however he accidentally bumped into a rather buff man. "Sorry man" Andre yelled as he went out the door..............

[Mr.Funny12]

If your referring to me as the man sleeping in the corner, my character is a mouse.

[Mokrie Dela]

They'd agreed on a price and with no one else to spend his money on, Marlon agreed. He could feel, in the back of his head, the faintness, but he was determined not to pass out. To hell with karma, or what he deserved, if fate would hunt him down and make him pay for what he did, so be it, but first he was going to have some fun. A last meal, perhaps.

She began swaying, her hands touching her hips and thighs with the slightest of touches. Marlon stared through a face hazy from alcohol, his eyes enchanted by her smooth skin. Her legs were free of blemishes, obviously waxed, not shaved. Marlon wondered how far the grooming went. He imagined what lay behind her underwear, but commanded patience of himself. Not yet.

The stripper - whatever she was - began toying with her clothes, thumbing at the straps. Marlon felt the natural and inevitable phsycal reaction as well as a fluttering in his chest. He was no virgin - that was his problem wasnt it? - but it had been a long time since he'd felt excitement, at least like this. He felt his hands buzz.
The woman moved in an gave him a lapdance, a personal one on one giration. He felt the tingling downstairs, and now his breathing was shallow, his heart beating fast.

"You come here often?" She asked, straddling his legs, her back to him, arching her head backward to face him.
"Yeah." Marlon said to the upside down face.

The woman shook her head, her hair stroking Marlon's face. She turned and belly-danced in his face. He could see the golden glow of her stomach, and he reached out.
Her naval was tight but soft. Toned. Perfect. He gasped, having been unconsciously holding his breath.
"You alone? No friends wanting to join in?"
"Just me." He whispered.
"What about a man called Sinatra?"
Marlon frowned. "Frank?"
"No..."
"I don't know anyone called Sinatra."

Patricia was no stranger to using what she had to her advantage. She learnt to read men - they were so easy to read. Like large print books for children. So. Damned. Easy.
But this man? He was not lying. She'd tried to get information out of the wrong man.
But, she realised, he was minutes from passing out. He wouldn't remember....

She stood. "That's your lot."
Marlon blinked. "Nah-uh." He stood too, draping a hand gently round her neck.

Some men simply had the touch. And Patricia breathed in pleasure. But she took control of herself and stepped back. She hadn't realised Marlon's hand by her strap, which broke.
"Oh, beautiful." He said tenderly as her breasts were exposed. He cupped one, feeling the soft, silky smooth skin, and the slightly firm sponginess of it.

Patricia tried to step back, but she'd run out of space. "I'm not kidding, buster, that's it."

Marlon shook his head and, with the weight advantage, spun her round, laying her on a table of some sort. He tore off her underwear and was rewarded with a well groomed prize.
He dropped his trousers too, stroking his hand over her breasts and down her stomach. He leant in as the woman's eyes went wide... He didn't see the object that she'd grabbed in her desperate haste.

Marlon felt heaven, as the warm smoothness welcomed him. Chills shot up his spine as his stomach met hers. A warmness enveloped him, and he breathed out in ecstacy.

Then, with an unwelcome and unexpected pound, his world went black.


Marlon's status: Unconscious.

This post has been edited by Mokrie Dela on Tuesday, May 22 2012, 16:51

[glenn tha killer]

QUOTE (Mr.Funny12 @ Monday, May 21 2012, 22:32)

If your referring to me as the man sleeping in the corner, my character is a mouse.

What is the point in that? A paranoid mouse? Anyway ill edit that out next time im on my computer. Sorry.

[Mr.Funny12]

QUOTE (glenn tha killer @ Tuesday, May 22 2012, 23:39)

QUOTE (Mr.Funny12 @ Monday, May 21 2012, 22:32) If your referring to me as the man sleeping in the corner, my character is a mouse. What is the point in that? A paranoid mouse? Anyway ill edit that out next time im on my computer. Sorry.

A paranoid mouse? No mice are afriad of humans. If I was referring to a human in my stories then that wouldn't make any sense at all.

No biggy just a heads up.

[glenn tha killer]

Update? Anytime soon?

[Ziggy455]

I understand that activity in The Bar has dropped; something that I must personally apologize for. Here are my reasons:

For the last few months I was given the grave news that my grandmother was dying from both Brain and Lung cancer. So, dropping my Media studies (The year was dwindling near an end, and I cut it short with good grades until next year) I moved in with my grandmother. What she is suffering from is a debilitating illness, she can't walk, she can barely talk, and to be honest it f*cks with my head to see her like this. I have been looking after her 24/7, non-stop for a while and it has cut me off from everything as I do so. So as you'll notice my activity on GTAForums as a whole is completely lacking. You will notice I have not uploaded any revised stories, I have not updated the bar or even been online much. My inbox is full of PMs asking me to be more active but in the end, I felt that this explanation was needed to explain that at the moment, management is being suspended and I will not be online until the inevitable happens and I have finished this awful business.

I apologize.

- Ziggy.