You exit the apartment building and head to the 9 O' Clock.
After twenty minutes of walking, ten minutes of hiding from a MHAG patrol checking bystanders for weapons, and four minutes of wondering where the hell you are, you finally arrive.
The red brick facade of the bar is still pockmarked from the war, even though the owner makes enough to get it repaired, he doesn't out of a feeling of solidarity and regret for the part he played in Red Friday. A series of brightly flashing neon lights does well to break up the film noir feel of the street, proudly proclaiming the building of being the 9 O' Clock. Here is where the Law Enforcement Officers come to think and drink; Think about how they are either protecting people who hate them, or people who see them as a asset which can be expended in the name of profit, and then to drink it all away. Without a second of hesitation you pull open the solid steel door and enter, immediately being assaulted by the smell of tobacco, beer and stale pretzels.
The bar itself is brightly lit and warm, with fake polished wood adorning any surface they could fit it on, giving the whole place a mass produced look.
Several people wave to you as you pass by to get a drink, mostly old timers who you patrolled with or rookies who you trained.
After you get a cheap beer(-5$) you decide to sit with the old-timers, mainly because they gossip the most about their assignments. Phillip Rickner, a pilot with ten years on the ISN force, and twenty on the old policing force, is the first to talk to you.
"Hey Zera, how have you've been doing?"
"Fine for now."
"Well that's always good, but..."
He hesitates a moment and looks at his colleagues, who nod, ever so slightly.
"Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure what?"
"Do you buy any food products from Centralis Imports?"
"A few, I think, why?"
"Well, you should probably start buying from other companies, you wouldn't believe how many chemicals they add to their products."
"Er...okay?"
"Cool. So how's white collar life treating you?"
You begin to discuss about how work sucks, while thinking about what he said.
Something about his tone was weird, the old hint of bitterness was there, the same as when he knew he was doing something that wasn't right, but he had to do it...
Now what?
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Topic: You Are Freedom Fighter(The Docks(MHAG Patrol))! (Read 20201 times)