Day 21 and a character featured in both The Package and The Case of the Empty Killer based on my friend Abhinav (not personality wise, definitely), just stealing his name and appearance! Bwahahahahahaha! Just looking for a quiet drink….
It was named for some famous orbital grav-chutist, rather than its quality.
The man in the military uniform decided it was a nice little bar.
Out of the way from the general population, it had been on a list, one that was far from respectable. That’s why he liked it. He knocked back another hit of what the bartender had told him was whisky, but what he was sure was anti-freeze solution.
He refused to show weakness in front of these people.
There were plenty of them, heads down, drinking themselves into a stupor or an early grave.
He pushed the empty glass away.
The bartender nodded, and produced the bottle.
He eyed the barman suspiciously.
The man just snorted and walked away, attending to another.
A fight broke out; he hadn’t noticed them arguing, which was in odd, as he always noticed. It was his job to notice. He was off-duty though. He didn’t want to get involved. He just wanted a quiet drink.
The first man punched the second, and the two rolled over the table, grappling with each other. The entire bar erupted into roaring jeers of encouragement as the two brawlers rolled around on the floor, beating each other senseless.
“As if they weren’t already senseless,” he sneered to himself.
The fight, such as it was, tumbled towards him, and he realised he would either have to move, or get involved somehow.
The crowd, though, gathered around, and he couldn’t move. One even pushed him towards the fight. The man in question, though he was less human and more of something else than he had seen before, earned a snapped wrist in return.
The military man elbowed him in the throat, and threw him into the bar. His friend, inebriated, tried to come to his rescue, but was kicked in the knee, snapping it backwards the wrong way. Another tried to intervene, and found himself choking and clutching his throat, the military man still standing, his fists balled up.
The fight, meanwhile, had paused, everybody staring in shock at him.
“Nark,” he muttered. “I was hoping to come back to this place.”
He pulled his sidearm, and shot both combatants through the head, perfect shots between the eyes. The entire room cleared, drunken idiots clambering over each other to escape the madman in the military uniform.
He just stood there.
The bartender came out of hiding, a large plasma rifle in his shaking hands.
“Do you really think you can hit me with that?”
The barkeeper looked at the rifle and then lowered it.
Colonel Abhinav Jain shot him between the eyes as well.
“All just alien scum,” he growled before marching out.