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Post by Lunapocalypse on Mar 11, 2010 12:51:05 GMT -5
This is a pretty typical spot for members to hang out at on their rostered days off. It isn't suggested in any of the recruit pamphlets when signed up for the job, but it's a word of mouth thing from one B.S.A.A. agent to another, "Want a good spot to down a drink, everyone goes to Jill's Bar," and thus it's a trend that follows through from new agent to new agent. It's a fairly clean place too, not dark or smoke filled; normally after 12 midnight it's pretty hard not to see a brawl start out between 3 or 4 people at the bar though.
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Post by NotAvailable on Mar 23, 2011 3:06:25 GMT -5
Jake had arrived back in town about a day or so ago from Stoneville. He was out there around Lake Trinity, looking over his checkpoint. He left it in the hands of Richard Holden before he left. Everyone seemed to be doing alright and had a few men come through setting up trading posts from their vehicles. A couple new friendly faces and some new friends to look after Clarissa, he was sure they'd be alright.
Of course he felt bad leaving the kid there alone again. He sorta wished he hadn't, but he had dutied to uphold with the B.S.A.A. She'd be alright. She was sixteen now, she knew how to operate a gun and run to safety. She'd be fine. Right?
Entering the bar, the ex Marine had seen atleast a dozen others hanging about, Kazlov wasn't there yet. Just like the ol' Russian bastard. Always late. Infact, he was already working on some sort of racist insult to greet him with, when he'd chuckled to himself and sat at one of the lone tables in the corner.
"Where the hell is the old bastard at?" he asked aloud, checking his watch.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 23, 2011 3:21:04 GMT -5
“Who is old?” Richard asked, walking through the door behind Jake by a few seconds. He had been following Jake for the past block or so, having decided to test and see how well Jake was at detecting someone. Not so well, apparently. Granted, Richard was very good at what he did.
“You take long way around bar, why?” He said, walking in and taking a seat at the bad. There was a shortcut, over an eight foot security fence and then a chain link fence. Sure, it was through someone’s lawn, but he’d never heard anything from the people who lived there.
“Cola.” He said when the bartender asked what he would like to drink. Rolling his eyes as he reached under and grabbed a can of the soda for Richard, he looked over to Jake and waited for him to answer the same question.
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Post by NotAvailable on Mar 23, 2011 3:28:53 GMT -5
Jake was a bit stirred and was suprised he let him slip by like that. He must have just had too much on his mind. He let his guard down, that was no good.
"I'll have the same, but with something alcoholic in it," Jake told the barkeep, whom nodded and went for a glass. Glancing over at his old friend, he chuckled and leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head.
"Been a long time, comrade. Sneaking up on an American, eh? Typical commie," he joked, laughing. He knew Richard was aware of his crude sense of humor, he had one too, which made him a good partner to work with.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 23, 2011 3:48:27 GMT -5
“Bah, ee’s not my fault your American wit is the only wits you have.” Richard said, grabbing the can of soda that had been put in front of him and pulled on the tab to open it. It snapped off and he sighed. Holding up his middle finger at Jake, who had started to snicker, he jammed it into the opening of the can and popped it open in a quick motion. Pulling his hand up and licking the soda off his finger, he took a sip from the can and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a drag, blowing the smoke into the air in a series of rings.
“So what bring you back to my neck of woods?” He asked Jake, taking another drink and looking over his shoulder at a few men who seemed to be arguing. He paid them no mind, he didn’t think anything would come of it. They looked like the regular all bark, no bite type.
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Post by NotAvailable on Mar 23, 2011 3:58:55 GMT -5
Jake shrugged and when his beverage came along, he'd nodded at the waitress and took a long drink before putting it on the table with a light, clunk. "I was told to head back to HQ for some orientation. I dunno what it's for, don't care too much right now, been busy taking care of a kid and a bunch of survivors...hey that guy just got the s*** punched out of him, check that out!" Jake suddenly burst into laughter as a third man had been drawn into the fight.
From there on out, another and then there was a brawl going on. Both B.S.A.A. agents got a good chuckle at their expense, that is, until a couple of bottles had been hurled their way. With their reflexes, it was easy for them to push back out of the way, where they smashed into the walls, spraying both agents with alcohol. Warm alcohol at that.
"f**kin bastards! Watch were you throw your s***!" Jake bellowed, flicking his hand in a motion that could be mistaken as a 'f**k you'.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 27, 2011 20:45:01 GMT -5
“You should not do that…” Richard said, sighing as he heard chairs scrape against the floor as drunks with the illusion of being tough stood up. They started making their way over to the bar where Jake and Richard sat, and Richard stepped down from the stool.
“Come now, no fight, we have good time, da?” He said, trying to get them to calm down. It didn’t work, and as one swung a fist at Richard, Richard seemed to do the same. But his fist sailed over the drunk’s, and in a smooth action Richard wrapped his arm around the drunk’s, bracing his hand on the back of the man’s head and sending a sharp kick to the back of his knee. The drunk went down and landed on a heap on the ground.
Another seemed to have the drop on Richard, but as he sank a fist into Richard’s ribcage, Richard didn’t react. His face didn’t even betray any sign that he had felt the blow. Meanwhile, a few who seemed smarter or less intoxicated seemed to stop going after the fist Russian and started going after his friend.
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Post by NotAvailable on Mar 27, 2011 22:07:35 GMT -5
When two of the men had came approaching Jake, who still sat at his table, he glanced up at them and brushed them off. "Go on, beat it," he told them, taking a drink. One of the men grasped under the table and flipped it over on him, forcing Jake to quickly punch the guy in the crotch and when he'd doubled over, Jake grabbed onto his hair and slammed his glass into his face, crushing the glass and breaking the a**hole's nose.
"Why'd ya go and make me do that?" Jake said as the other men barked out a "hey!" and lunged for him. Jake leaned his chair backward and let it drop, rolling aside on the ground when he collided with it. The man had attempted to throw a punch but when Jake performed this tricky manuever he tripped all over himself and sent his fist into the wall.
Quickly reacting, Jake had grabbed his chair and smashed it into the gentlemen's back, laying him out on the ground. Doing so, another bar drunk had stepped in with his beer bottle and swiped it at Jake from behind.
Jake had looked over his shoulder and barely managed to stumble out of the way, clumsily, the bottle missing by mere inches.
"Woah, ho, sneaky, sneaky!" he said, grinning. "Hey, Commie, let's say we wrap this up quick-like, eh?" he told his friend while putting his fists up against the drunkard with the bottle.
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Post by Mikey on Mar 28, 2011 5:50:43 GMT -5
Richard contorted around a swinging stool, standing his ground when it came back from the opposite direction. He put up his foot and caught one of the legs with his heel, stopping it dead before he shot the same leg out and hit his attacker’s knee. The man’s leg buckled underneath him, and Richard planted a foot in his chest to knock him back. A man yelled out a battle cry behind him, a dead giveaway to his intention, as he wielded a pool cue. Richard held up his arms and blocked the blow, the cue bouncing off of the tense muscle of his forearms, dropping to the ground when he brought his arms down and smacked it out of the drunk’s clumsy hands. Swinging to the side, he landed a few sharp kicks to the attacker’s side to stun him. Followed by a spin kick that sent him into the bar.
The last of the group who had stuck to attacking the former Spetsnaz came from behind, trying to put Richard in a chokehold. Blocking the hold from locking in place with his arm, Richard planted his right foot to the ground and spun, using the attacker’s weight against him and using a hip throw to send his face on a collision course for a table. He landed on the ground with a thud, out cold.
Taking a look around, he saw the bodies on the ground and watched Jake fighting off the last of his attackers.
“Come now, they teach Americans to fight, no?” He taunted Jake.
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Post by NotAvailable on Mar 28, 2011 17:10:39 GMT -5
"As well as they teach Communists terrorism, yeah!" Jake retorted, stepping aside from one incoming punch and stepping aside again from another. When the man's outstretched arm had missed, Jake took hold of it and spun him around, pinning it to his back and pulling him infront while another guy accidentally smacked him upside the face, trying to get to Jake.
Laughing at that misfortune, Jake threw him forward at the other man, whom caught him, clumsily and forced the fallen man to recieve a front kick, pushing them both into the bar, sending bottles crashing to the ground.
"Hey! You're gonna pay for that! Your tab is gonna be f**kin' filled to the brim, Farlund!" the barkeep yelled, glaring at him. Waitress' squealed and took cover in a nearby bathroom. From what they could see, the tanned man had one of the drunks run up on him from behind. Jake swiftly back kicked him and then elbowed another oncoming man in the throat.
When they were on the ground, didn't take long for the kicked guy to try to get up, but end up vommitting all his liquor and pretezels onto thr floor. Jake lifted his boot up and nudged the back of his head a little, forcing him to drop, face first, into the mess.
"See, wasn't so hard. A bit anti-climactic though," he told Richard, moving back over to an untouched table and chair. Seating himself down again, he gestured for another drink. He didn't mind it being so quick and dull, he wasn't going to over exhert himself with people like this, he saved it for the a**holes that really deserved it. So for now, using chairs and tables, a few jabs here and there, would do as it so happened to prove.
"f**k off, Farlund!You and Richard get the hell outta my bar until I cleaned this s*** up!" the barkeep roared out, shaking a fist at them. Jake grimaced and looked over at his Russian friend.
"See what you did, Richard? Now we're banned again."
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Post by Mikey on Mar 31, 2011 3:05:20 GMT -5
“Me?” Richard said, grabbing his can of soda and walking toward the door. “Why it always me? You one who flip bird to drunks.” He argued, walking out the door and holding it for Jake. When they were both outside, he let it swing shut and looked out into the street.
“What we do now?” He asked. “There is diner with pool table that way, but no alcohol served.” He said. “No room for you to do stupid things, you would not like it.” He added. He thought about it for a moment, and then spoke again.
“But. You always find way.” He jabbed once more. Lighting another cigarette, having finished the previous one, he flicked some ashes into the gutter of the street and waited for Jake to give an idea of what they should do next.
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Post by NotAvailable on Mar 31, 2011 3:26:50 GMT -5
Jake chuckled and shrugged a bit, reaching into his jacket's breast pocket to pull his own cigarette out. He'd stuck it in his mouth and searched himself for his lighter. What else was there to do now? That's when he'd suddenly remembered the whole reason for being here. Search and Rescue.
"Oh, right, the boss gave me specific orders to head out to Vegas as soon as possible. Apparently there's some ex-Umbrella a**holes that are willing to cooperate with the B.S.A.A. Maybe we should find some new transportation and head out there. It'll be a long ass drive though..." he trailed off.
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Post by Mikey on Apr 2, 2011 10:11:34 GMT -5
“That is why they invent air travel.” Richard said. “Americans always take hard way.” He said with a smirk.
“Meet you at airstrip in hour? I grab bag, we go, da?” He said. He kept his things on hand for just such an occasion. He didn’t wear BDU’s and the like, he preferred his normal clothes. They were outdated combat wear, after all. All he needed was his rifle, his gear, junk like that. All kept in a duffle bag in a locker at the armor. His Sig, Makarov, knives, they were all with him at all times. He liked to be prepared. In this day and age, they never knew when an outbreak could occur. Even here at the town that served as the landmark to their base.
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Post by NotAvailable on Apr 3, 2011 23:29:42 GMT -5
Jake brushed his snide remark off with another chuckle. "You would know alot about air travel, wouldn't you, terrorist?" he asked, trying to soothe his ruffled feathers. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Of course he knew about air travel, just, he'd been dealing with some phobias of heights since he'd returned home from duty about two years ago.
Either way, he would just have to deal. Until then, he needed to go grab his things and meet the Russian at the airstrip. Las Vegas would definitely be worth it, it was clean and prosperous even today with all the zombies and B.O.W.s and what not. But before then, he'd be sure to check in with his checkpoint, he made sure the B.S.A.A. issued a radio transmitter to them months ago, he can call out from base anytime necessary.
"Yeah, yeah, meet ya, there, just got a quick errand to run and then I'll board da choppuh with you, my broken Englished, commie friend," He told Richard, slapping his back with a loud laugh.
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Post by Mikey on Apr 4, 2011 11:58:19 GMT -5
“Da da, see you in hour?” He said, guessing at the time it would take for Jake to take care of his errand. He had no idea what it was, but he had a feeling it had something to do with going to the family he had and explaining why he was leaving. Richard supposed if he had any family left he would be doing the same thing. But, all of his had passed on. Some before the outbreak, some after, but they were all gone. It gave him a sense of freedom and a sense of sorrow, all at the same time.
“We meet again soon.” He said, patting his friend on the shoulder and taking off toward the base. It wasn’t a long way, he could walk it in about twenty minutes. Still have plenty of time to get his gear and get to the plane.
Lighting another cigarette as he walked, he started to take a mental note of anything in his bag, of anything he may need to grab from his apartment.
(Jake and Richard now in airport.)
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