Sven's

Sven's place is out of the way, and he likes it like that. There's no bouncers and no one checking IDs because only a certain type go there. The type that want to fight justice in their own way, a way that the law doesn't allow.

There isn't much to the place. A few tables, a pool table, and the bar where either Sven or his son Robert tends at.

Word from the transients is Sven gets his orders from The Cause, and if you want to make it known that you're there to help simply ask for a Sex on the Beach, minus the sex and minus the beach.

I step out onto the sidewalk avoiding the water streaming down the road. It appeared filth was clogging the city drains literally as well as metaphorically. I slam the door on my Capri. She's lasted 30 years I'm not gonna go easy on the old girl now.

Right now I'm an unknown. Spent a night in some motel and listened to some bum. It had been a lousy night and I'd awoken to a lousy morning and now I was down some lousy street looking at some run down bar. The place looked derelict, almost wondered if I had the right place. But I heard that was how this place was meant to be. Out of the way, out of mind, out of others reach. My type probably wasn't welcome here. I guess I was about to find out.

Sven's. Vigilantes were its clientele and I wasn't that. I was the law and that meant I shouldn't be involved with these people but from what I gathered these men where of more use to the town than the police force were and far straighter. I used to be by the book. USED TO BE. Now I was doing things differently. I'd busted their kind before even though it conflicted with my morals. Even though I envied these men been able to act without been held back by a set of rules laid out for a bunch of low lives that weren't worth the paper it was written on. I almost didn't take up the job here almost went freelance. Almost but not quite. Man's gotta make a living and while I'll tolerate their methods I won't quite become one of them. Not just yet anyway.

There's no one at the door. No one to refuse me entry flat out. I step in wondering if possession of weapons would pose an issue. No doubt I'd soon find out if I got past the first hurdle of been allowed to stay in. I approach the bar but don't take a seat I know I can act faster that way if need be. Know the barstool can be more just a seat. Know that it can be an impromptu weapon. My eyes flit all over the joint. I've already processed available weapons. Know the pool cue will let me hold my ground without killing anyone. Know I can use the balls if need be. I don't want to draw my weapon if I don't have to but I've already pegged this joint as the kind of place that may well have a shotgun under the bar. My legs aren't what they used to be won't be trying any fancy flips or swings over it to get there.

Probably been paranoid anyway. I give the man a nod and remove my trilby as a sign of respect. I'm not the kind that wears a hat in a building. My fringe is drawn over as always. I'd considered wearing an eye patch before but didn't fancy it. I'm not same kind of pirate.

"Whiskey" This isn't the place for manners but I hope it’s the place for talk. I'm new in town and I need to establish myself. Contacts, allies something that lets me know where I stand. I have enough enemies in town already that’s why I'm here and I'm not foolish enough to think I can take them out on my own.

I cast a glance at the man who just walked in. He wasn't a regular, that's for sure. But he certainly didn't look like he stumbled in here by accident.

"Whiskey."

Definitely not an accident. Already, the other patrons are glancing in his direction. No one says a word. I grab a class and drop a single ice cube in it before tipping the bottle. The cube melted immediately and I shrugged it off before sliding the glass to the man.

"That'll be five bucks, Champ."

Champ? I liked this one. An improvement from old man that was for sure. Still the price was a bit hefty. Not a habit I could really afford on a legit wage but hell I needed a drink and a man can't just walk into a bar he's not known in and not get a drink. I fork over the cash. I'd prepared for the place my wallet in my top inside pocket not only did it avoid been pick pocketed it meant there was no risk of me flashing my badge. It was no longer attached at my waist, hidden but still no harm in habits, covered you if you slip up. These men weren't run of the mill anyway. I'd assessed the surroundings and no doubt they were familiar with these they would be assessing me and a wised up one would clock the notches on my belt from where it had been attached. A smart one could make an educated guess to what might normally reside there. But like I said I didn't let them get a glance down there. I catch them looking. Feel them eyeing me up, sizing me up but I gave away nothing. My baggy overcoat doesn't even let them adequately assess my build. Just how I like it. Know the enemy but don't let them know you.

I pick up the glass and take a sip. Not the best whiskey but the weight of the glass in my hand was promising. A quick knock on the bar and an upward swing and it would slice through anyone’s throat if need be. Despite the taste I try to savour the thing. It had a kick but the aftertaste was surprisingly better than its taste at the start.

"Are your patrons always as fond of new blood as this?"

"Are your patrons always as fond of new blood as this?"

"Well," I say motioning to the other people, "we're just not used to people coming in here purposefully. Usually it's some drunk college kid who walked into the wrong place or a regular... and you're neither drunk, nor a college kid. Which means that you didn't come here to order bottom shelf whiskey and to talk about sports. Or if you did, you should consider going to another establishment."

College kid? He didn't take this place as the kind to have some kind of education establishment but then again if a kid wandered into a place like this it probably didn't say much about his education.

"Yes I'm here on purpose and no I'm not just here for the whiskey which by the way I wasn't aware you did better. Dare I ask how much something with a bit of class would set me back? A 12 year Islay malt perhaps or am I been to bold to hope for it here. As for the bars I don't see many others been that welcoming either, correct me if I'm wrong."

"So my purpose? Can't say I could tell you that. Not to sure myself. Lets just say I'm new in town and I heard this was the place to be for a man with my new found approach to the law."

I laugh and motion at the meager offering of liquor, "There's plenty of other reasons the younger crowd doesn't stumble in here other than the unwelcoming party that is inside. You can always find the fancy stuff at Twist and Shout down the street."

I slide his money back towards him. "But given your reason for coming in here, I'm thinking Twist and Shot is the last place you want to go."

"What's your name, champ?"

Any less of a man would've been sour about the whole ordeal. Not I. With a smile on my face I watch him stuff three fat suitcases full of my money into the trunk of his brand new Cadillac. With a proud grin I watch those red taillights disappear into the storm. I watch as the rain swallows him up, never to be seen again in this city. He couldn't win the game, so he's quitting. Running away. Lost his nerve, like so many fools before him.

But when one player gets benched, another steps up to take his place. I just swooped in to pick up the pieces and turn a bad hand into a checkmate. What? That analogy doesn't even make sense, she says to me. "It's all the same," I say as I turn back toward the dark warehouse, my latest piece of real estate and my first purchase in this god-forsaken city. I step inside, dripping wet, and open my umbrella. That's bad luck, you know, that familiar voice rings in my head again. "You know I like to play against the odds."

It's not as promised. I was told this warehouse was full of guns and armor, enough merchandise to get me started in Avarus. I was in talks with this guy for about two months and he swore up and down he had all the latest stuff. I knew he was lying, but I also knew it wouldn't matter. I knew he had something in there -- a lot of something -- and everybody knows I'm pro at making a little something into a lot of everything.

So I showed up today to survey the property. The place is damn near a junkyard; row after row of surplus parts -- everything from oversized bearings for battle tank turrets to aircraft landing gear to weatherproof stripping for a Ford Pinto. What kinda idiot drives a Pinto? "I got a cousin in Alabama with a Pinto, so watch your mouth." My bad. Anywho, I paid the fool his money and took what's rightfully mine. My own place to call home, filled to the brim with any and everything I need to build an empire. Or to bring one down. "Now you're thinkin'."

With the property deed in my back pocket, I take off my hat and climb into my car, wade through the empty energy drink cans on the floor, and crank the engine. Drove nine hours straight to get here and don't have a hotel room yet. Haven't laid my head to rest in over 24 hours. Don't need to. Justice never sleeps. Smiling again, I let the accelerator have it and lay down some rubber as I fly out of the Bat Cave. The garage doors creep shut behind me. My lair disappears from the rear view mirror as I turn onto the next street and put the windows down so I can breathe in the air, rain and all.

Time to see what this city is really about. Only been here a half hour or so and I already hate Nac. Is that what they call it? 'Nac?' I think 'New Av' sounds better. I continue to drive, ignoring her silly comments. The locals can call it what they want, makes no difference. The place is a mess either way. S**t in a million diferent languages is still s**t. So I keep rolling and don't stop 'til I find the place I'm looking for. Sven's. Is this the place?

I pull in and park behind a gaudy Ford, yellow with racing stripes. Better than a Pinto? "Not by a long shot," I say. I step out into the rain, throw on my hat, grab my umbrella, and head for the front door. There's nobody guarding the joint, so I stroll in, dripping wet, with my unopened umbrella in hand. Two nobodies standing by the entrance look at me like I'm crazy and I stare right back at 'em while I size up the place in my peripheral vision. Bar. Pool table. Other tables. People, people, more people, and the things they park their asses in. Typical billiard joint by the looks of it.

So this isn't the place? "Of course it is," I say in a low voice as I head for the bar. "Everybody in here is on the straight and narrow. Where else can you walk in, dripping wet, and give the first person you see a staredown without getting punched out?" You may have a point there....

Anywho, I walk up to the bar and take a seat next to some old guy who's standing around, chattin' it up with the bartender. He's got his hat off and I consider following his example. Nah, screw that.

"What's your name, champ?" he says to the guy.

"Fitz McGee," I say, knowing damn well he ain't talking to me. "I heard you're the man to talk to about an... ummm...." I scratch my chin for a moment, thinking about nothing. A sex on the beach without the- "A mile high club without the airplane. Where can I get some of that, hmmm?"

It appears all was going well. Seems I had a place in the establishment and I'd even got a drink out of it. I took a sip of the new whiskey and genuinely savoured this one. This was how whiskey should be. I slipped the money back gratefully after toying with the idea of giving him it back but then thought the symbol of me drinking the drink was more important. Though no words of it were spoken I figured this symbolised my allegiance to this bar and some kind of regard to its patrons. Hopefully my job wouldn't cause too many conflicts of allegiance. Hopefully I agreed with the vigilantes aims even if their methods were somewhat dubious. Just think of them as a glorified contact or a cop in deep cover then you could appreciate their presence and excuse their means.

Another man enters and my hand casually slips on to the barstool to the casual observer it would appear I was about to take a seat having been accepted but I knew it doubled as been prepared for the man that approached from behind me. He took a seat and I followed suit now that I was more at ease.

The barman addresses me once more and this new fella, Fitz McGee apparently, decides to but in. I look him over without appearing to critical he's not like some of the other patrons I can see he has some experience even if his age hasn't brought the manners still shouldn't be looking for manners in this kinda joint unless it was respect you commanded by fear and I wasn't that kinda cop or at least the town hadn't had a chance to corrupt me that much yet.

"Names Graham Griffon and I'm going to take a wild guess your Sven." I'm not quite sure if my attempt at humour will be appreciated but I go for it anyway if my line isn't appealing I'm sure this Fitz will take the heat instead with whatever his sex and plane jabber is about.

Its been two days since I arrived in this shithole, first day I entered I knew the fedora had to be back on me. I'm not your typical super hero, I don't wear masks, capes, or my f*****' whites over my pants, no I'm not that. If you want me to be a hero, then you'll only see me with a fedora and trenchcoat, and I'll be coming down the hall at you, pipe in hand, beating the living **** out of you. That's the kind of hero I am.

Day two in here I already start looking around for some kind of info, but I can't just get any info, and I can't just hide in any rat hole, no I need a proper establishment. I heard something about hobos knowing the street, took a look at it, nearly broke a man's fingers for my info. Told me about a guy name Sven, sounds like an normal genius willing to give info for a little cash in return.

I walk down the streets, I don't use a car, too noisy for my work, I travel the streets, the buildings, above ground and below. I'm stealthy like, don't need for anyone to find me yet. The rain pours down the tip of my fedora, like a running sink. I find what I'm looking for, a shabby building, definately a place for info. I appraoch the establishment, open the door and walk inside, two men are talking to the bartender. Two ordinary men? Or out of the ordinary?

Doesn't matter, I take a seat at a table, hang my head low, no need to talk yet. Someone wants to talk they can walk their asses over here.

Another man enters and I notice once again the patrons look at him like he's an alien. For a place that doesn't get many new visitors it sure seemed crowded. Three new customers in the morning no less. It wasn't expected that you started drinking in the morning often it was a sign of an alcoholic but still he found himself staring at the latest man that entered who had promptly sat down and isolated himself trying not to draw attention to himself. This didn't strike him as the place that you could keep a low profile. He didn't check his watch or produce a phone and I interpreted that as meaning he wasn't expecting anyone instantly making me more curious about his purpose here.

Sure he might have checked the time before he entered or just be confident the person would arrive soon but I knew that most people went with theatrics just so anyone looking wouldn't think they'd been ditched. I remember one night waiting for a girl at a bar for 30 minutes on my own in my younger years. Pint in one hand, phone in the other sitting at the bar. Eyes locked on the door expectantly, texting occasionally catching the occasional sideward glance knowing what the people probably thought. That's why I'd made a scene when the girl finally arrived just to redeem my reputation with these people I'd probably never see again. Interesting how you act when you’re young now I just didn't care. Still memories back when I was innocent, untainted were nice hell maybe I'd be joining the dating game again soon if I could will myself to but I wondered what kind of braud you would find in a town like this.

"Say Sven is it normal to get people in here that don't get a drink and don't get a conversation going. Kinda makes you uneasy last time I saw that was a poor hit man observing his target. Needless to say his target clocked on. Quite a good day actually got to bust a wood be hit man and a con that we had on surveillance. Sloppy workmanship." As I went on with my story I wondered whether I hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to loosen my tongue but I hear I was talking about busting a hit man in a vigilantes bar sure the practice was slightly different but it might be a bit to close for home for them.

"Fitz McGee." Another patron interrupts our not yet blossomed conversation. I just stare at him as he starts to fumble about his words.

"I heard you're the man to talk to about an... ummm...." he scratches his chin thoughtfully, still trying to find the words, "a mile high club without the airplane. Where can I get some of that, hmmm?"

Whatever conversations the regulars were having stopped, with all eyes focusing on "Fitz." Knowing the man wouldn't get out of the bar in one piece I shake my head at them and they return to their murmers. "I don't serve fancy drinks here, Fitz," I tell him. "Try Twist and Shout down the street."

I look back at the other newcomer and he promptly resumes our conversation. "Names Graham Griffon and I'm going to take a wild guess your Sven."

"You guessed correctly, champ," I nod at him.

"Say Sven is it normal to get people in here that don't get a drink and don't get a conversation going. Kinda makes you uneasy last time I saw that was a poor hit man observing his target. Needless to say his target clocked on. Quite a good day actually got to bust a wood be hit man and a con that we had on surveillance. Sloppy workmanship."

I laugh a little, knowing exactly who he was talking about. The third newcomer will get the point eventually that there are no servers here and he has to get a drink at the bar. "Odd for sure, Graham," I tell him. "Of course, people like that make the regulars a bit uneasy. And if they make the regulars uneasy, they don't stay here that long whether they want to or not."

I top of his glass processing the rest of what he said. "Say, Graham, what exactly is it you do?"

I hear conversations about me, if I want to stay longer I'm gonna need a drink, or at least a hot meal. My stomach growls silently, I realize that I haven't eaten in the past 18 hours since my second day here in this god-forsaken city.

I slowly stand up and proceed over to the bar. I come up to the side of the man, coming from the back just makes a man wary, and most likely he would strike, that would get my ass kicked out of this place, and I would have no chance at getting any information, making this trip fruitless.

"Evening," I take a place by the bar, "hope you don't mind me sitting and chatting with you."

The first sentence started with so much promise a hint that I hadn't made his regulars uneasy or at least not on par with this other one but then he hit me with the blow of the next question, enquiring about my profession. I'd touched on it mentioning my approach to the law but that could easily be seen as a vigilante. The next words counted and I was going to make them count and they would be the truth. I didn't lie or at least I didn't go out of my way to. I'd be lying to say there weren't exceptions but unless the occasion called for it or my job prompted it I would be truthful.

"I'm a cop." I don't have to look round to know that the regular’s ears have perked up once more. Looking round would do little I knew Sven commanded their behaviour I caught him shake his head and the power such a small movement had. I could hear the safety on a gun been thumbed off and knew my next words had to be spoken fast if I didn't want a bullet in the back. And just to clarify I didn't. New Avarus may be a death wish for some but I didn't intend to go down till I'd got what I came for and I certainly didn't intend to die without a fight with a bullet in this place.

"Not here on regular duties though. Here for revenge. See my problem is the police department." I make a hand motion around the bar it also allows me to glance over my shoulder for a brief second to see that a man has actually rose from his seat. Still not talking fast enough then. "Police bar isn't that welcoming when you can bump into the department that spawned the man that did this to me" I brush back my blonde fringe exposing my eye hoping that Sven's face will say enough to communicate to the rest of the bar what he saw.

"So when you can't rely on the police who can you turn to and the answer ironically is that some of New Avarus is straighter or has better intent for the city than the god dam police force. So I find myself here hoping for some more reliable company."

Well that was it. A few sentences that decided my potential future in New Avarus. I hoped I'd made the words count. I couldn't afford to get kicked out of this place god knows I needed the allegiances and I wasn't prepared to stoop to the New Pack just because I had an issue with the Russo's. A cop with vigilantes was precarious enough and I wasn't going to become what I was hunting by making deals with a gang.

Another man has risen this time however it wasn't a regular he was the man I had referred to and must have heard me. He obviously hadn't caught Sven's response to me though or realised the gravity of it. I could almost feel the tension in the air as he took a seat and addressed me. I didn't engage in the conversation immediately I was waiting for Sven's response. No not a response his body language. The language that would tell the others to stand down. No man would engage in a conversation when he knew the next moments decided his future in this town...

"I don't serve fancy drinks here, Fitz," I tell him. "Try Twist and Shout down the street."

"The piano joint?" I ask him. "Not really my style. I'm a rock'n'rolla. An' I been known to use a lil' heavy metal to shake up the system.... You know how it is." You're not talking about music, are you? "What're you into Svenny ol' boy? Heard anything good lately?" I put my palms flat on the bar while the old guy next to me -- Graham Griffon -- keeps talkin'. I like that name; a mythical creature and a sweet crunchy cracker all rolled into one. Mmm. Stay focused.

Graham Cracker kept talking: "So when you can't rely on the police who can you turn to and the answer ironically is that some of New Avarus is straighter or has better intent for the city than the god dam police force. So I find myself here hoping for some more reliable company."

"Ooh, ooh, I'm reliable," I say, raising my hand like an eager kindergardener. I chill quickly, since the rest of the bar is looking at me like I'm a nutcase. Well, aren't you? "That was a rather enticing discourse on social and moral decay, but you're making me hungry like a wolf, Mr. Piggy," I say to the cop, then turn to Sven. "What ya got to drink in here, Mr. Bartender? Anything decaf and nonalcoholic will do. I'm a lightweight, you know." I grin at Sven, still testing the waters. He ain't thrown me out on my ass yet.

These guys ain't half bad.... Then again, we haven't gotten down to business yet.

Fitz carried on talking, talking over him at points. Was I the only one that sensed the situation here? It seemed my explanation had stopped the regulars for a moment but hadn't placated them completely but they were at bay and that was a start. A breather at the very least. Sven hadn't acted. YET. Perhaps he was toying with the idea of removing them both at once?

McGee seemed a bit deranged didn't he? He was reliable apparently and clearly easily excited. I almost flinched as his hand shot up and I wasn't the only one. I noticed one of the calmer patrons who hadn't made a move on me go to his jacket pocket. I had to admit this place was on edge, was it always this way? Did they have a reason?

Guess I should engage the others. Can't leave them hanging. Action hadn't been taken yet looks like I had a few more minutes to work with hopefully I didn't dig myself any deeper. Why was this guy talking about the other joint was it meant to be a joke. I wondered whether to laugh, you know that sorta uneasy laugh when your with that guy at school that you thing is unhinged and any moment could be the next newspaper front page having wiped out half his school with his fathers Desert Eagle. Still at least he wasn't drinking although you had to wonder how this guy would act under the influence. The things he'd come out with... could be very interesting to say the least.

Instead I turn to the other one that took his seat next to me. Sandwiched between the other two newbie’s. God I felt old right now one was young the other was, well he was younger than me. Here's me in my overcoat and the other one thinks he's a bit more with the times and street with his trench coat but then there’s this McGee chap not just his personality that draws attention. A red trench coat. That certainly drew attention to itself, only shade of colour my overcoat had was some dried blood from when I'd smashed some guys face repeatedly against a bar till he coughed the information up along with his blood. Wasn't pretty, wasn't me but you had to do things you didn't like to get where you need sometimes.

God I have to analyse everything don't I and here I was saying I wasn't concerned with appearances back to the use of been sandwiched between them meant I had two potential allies if something kicked off or at least two meat shields. Still that’s a digression I turned to the man to address him not analyse him or his strategic use. Joy of been a cop you could never switch it off couldn't stop even for a second. My wife hated it. Still calling her my wife the papers hadn't came through yet but we all knew the papers were coming.

"Sure chat away this one certainly didn't wait for an invitation. Didn't even wait for someone to acknowledge his presence he made it known. Whether what you say is detrimental to your stay here well we both seem to be doing a good job at it you might as well join us and create a distraction." I think Sven might have smirked there. He didn't strike me as a smirking man. Perhaps I imagined it. Did what I say there sound threatening? STOP ANALYSING! God this part of my brain was driving me insane don't cross analyse every sentence you've said the words now it doesn't matter the consequence will make it self apparent soon it always did or at least with men it did so no issues right now.

I cross my arms and stare at the three before me. I can hardly believe what's going on, but I swallow my anger. McGee was clearly an idiot to be talking the way he was in front of the cop. The cop was clearly an idiot for even coming in here in the first place. And the other guy wanted to "chat"? Was this a sting? I look over them at the regulars. They're all staring and one even has his gun half-way drawn. I shake my head and he puts it away before the three newcomers notice.

"You're in luck," I say to Fitz and grab a glass. I throw some ice in it and fill it with water. "Decaf and non-alcoholic. And free," I say as I slide it to him. Next I grab Graham's drink away from him.

"These two with you, officer?"

"You're in luck," Sven says and slides me a water on the rocks. "Decaf and non-alcoholic. And free."

I look at it for a second or two. Hope New Av ain't like Mexico City; the water in some places is just ugh. I reach in my coat for a penlight and everybody goes nuts. I see a few flashes of steel, mostly knives, but there's a few guns in the mix too. Edgy bunch. Definitely. But at least now I know what they're packing. And I noticed Mr. Griffin and Silent Bob -- the guy sittin' on the other side of the pig -- were a little slower to draw than the rest. Good. A little calmness goes a long way in this line of work.

Anywho, I draw my penlight, click it on and inspect the glass of water. I mean, what did they think I was gonna draw? A gun? C'mon, I'm not that crazy. Anywho, I shine it through the glass to make sure there ain't more than water in there, then bottoms up.

That done, I go to put away the light, reaching into my coat again and get the same response. I catch myself grinning after I put it away. They'll cut that nonsense out sooner or later. Make their spidey senses cry 'wolf' enough times and they'll get sick of it. Or they'll shoot you. Yeah, maybe.

These two with you, officer?" Sven asks the cop.

"Pshh, I wish," I mutter under my breath. Cops have all the fun. D**n straight they do.

I watch as my drink gets pulled away a tang of regret that I didn't finish the thing; at least I didn't have to pay for it in the end. So was this how it was? I get kicked out and the other two don't? At least it seemed to be been handled in a sensitive manner. I wasn't been dragged out with the cold feel of steel to my neck or with a gun nuzzled into my back for more than a bit of warmth.

"Never seen 'em before." The way he paused there before he said the title was that for emphasis? I wasn't sure but I think it meant my kind wasn't welcome here. Removal of my drink certainly seemed a tell tale sign.

"So is this my cue to take my leave then? Am I not trustworthy or is it your clientele that are not trust worthy around me?" Would he answer that question anyway? Oh well what did it matter not like he could bar me again. I rose from my stool but didn't turn away just yet and here I was thinking I might have got a place here. Couldn't kick myself for what I said though it would have come up at some point or someone would have found out and down the line without explanation that would just cause paranoia maybe hasty action and undesirable outcomes. Best to get the ultimate outcome at the start I suppose.

"Never seen 'em before," he responds and McGee mutters something I didn't catch.

"So is this my cue to take my leave then? Am I not trustworthy or is it your clientele that are not trust worthy around me?"

I shrug at him. "You tell me," I start. "We don't get many newcomers round my bar, so when three show up in a matter of hours of each other, and one is a cop, I have to wonder if the NACPD is setting up a sting operation. For what, I have no clue, but it certainly isn't the first time a wire has come in here."

I look at the three of them, shake my head and look down. "The patrons here are just hardworking people who've been dealt a low blow, like me. We just want our peace. If the three of you can't respect that, then you have no place here."

I slide him his drink and take a step back. "I was just startin' to like you, champ."

"I'm in no association with them, and its tough to lose everything, and try clawing back up the ranks to get it all back. Its a shi**y life, but everyone deals with it at one point, some earlier than others."

I lower my head, my drink is passed to me and I take a wiff, savoring the smell, then I drink it.

My drink slides back across the table and I look at it with interest. Had that all been a test? I thought I was done and out and here lady luck had dealt me another hand. I was intrigued and I wasn't quite sure where to go from here I didn't sit back down immediately still didn't know if it was my place to. I was in that funny place where one slip could send you tumbling down the rabbit hole.

"Well I assure you if I was conducting a sting it would be a lot more efficient and low key than this I'd have some sort of cover story maybe engage in some theatrical event you'd all hear about on the news before I made my arrival and I wouldn't need any back up because that would just put more lives at risk and I'm all about keeping the body count down. Scratch that. All about keeping the innocent body count down."

"I'd offer a gesture of faith to strip down and let you search me but quite simply I don't think anyone here wants’ to see that and I know that you don't need the invitation two of your burly men could have me pinned down on that pool table and someone cutting my clothe off so I won't insult your establishment or waste my breath on that."

"As for previous stings I wouldn't know I transferred in yesterday and I'm not a great fan of some of the company I dare say if a certain department orchestrated it, it would be to the benefit of the Russo's. I'm just a hardworking guy who went for the steady low pay opposed to the potential better pay but unreliable contracting of some of your other clientele. I had to deal with the bureaucracy and the consequences that none of the recruiting campaigns tell you about then I got skull f***ed by a screw driver. Kinda changes your outlook on the world and how you choose to interact with it. So yea I can respect that, **** I can relate to that." This is the point where I break off to get another sip of that Whiskey.

"And you know that name Champ was just growing on me and that seat was getting warm just how I like it. Be an awful shame to waste good whiskey and lose trust over our approach to the law if in the long run our goals meet."

"I'm in no association with them, and its tough to lose everything, and try clawing back up the ranks to get it all back. Its a shi**y life, but everyone deals with it at one point, some earlier than others."

I nod at him, not sure what to say and slide him his beer. "Two bucks."

I look back at Graham and listen to his explanation. After he finishes I look back over his shoulder and one of the regulars. The one I trust the most. He slowly nods and I look back at Graham.

"Have a seat, and keep your clothes on. This ain't Hungry Like a Wolf."

Sven seemed to look right through me for a moment I thought it was like he was looking past the flesh into my soul trying to guess my motives but then I realised it was something simpler. Someone over my shoulder held his attention. Intriguing this time he didn't signal off the men but I took my seat as offered and knew the situation was resolved. Perhaps there was more mutual respect here than I'd first been aware of.

Sven struck me as caring a little more than just about business. A cop could be bad for business but it struck me when he said about his men having a... well his ladies as well, long gone were the days where you only got the male vigilantes. In fact some of the woman tended to be more deadly seduction could be a lethal weapon. But yes he seemed to have some kind of caring for his customers as well, genuinely didn't want to see them suffer.


"Have a seat, and keep your clothes on. This ain't Hungry Like a Wolf."

My lips curl slightly at his response. "Glad to hear it. Can't say I'm that confident around a bunch of men and I'd hate for that to be my first impression on the ladies if it isn't going to go anywhere." I smile more as I go on. "I seem to be doing all the talking right now is that just my nerves overriding everyone else or are you just men of few words." I considered adding whether they didn't trust me but I didn't want to rock the boat. I had a place for now, best settle in. I wondered how much settling in I would be doing. Would I be in here the entire day or would the conversation dry up? I'd have to watch my drinking if I stayed here all day. Didn't want to develop a habit now did I. An alcoholic was no good to himself or the force. It was interesting how I'd started calling it the force again. Political Correctness had ruled that out a few years back due its negative connotations. I'd kicked up a bit about it. All this political manouvering and pointless amendments so you didn't step on peoples toes was ridiculous. It didn't hurt to suggest the police force had a bit of power. I'd started refering it to as the "service" but now I'd went off the rails a bit I thought "force" reflected my mentality a bit more.

We leave The twist and shout and Isaac continues to show me the places of interest here in Avarus. We reach a part of town which is less then pleasing to me. It looks a little run down and dismal, but a good daughter does not ask questions.

“This here is Sven’s a few of our ‘friends’ hang out here,” Isaac says.

I don’t know why, the place is far from pleasant. I pause where an wanna be ford is parked. It seems to leer at me with it’s hideous yellow paint work. I look behind it and pause the yellow horror almost distracted me. From a lovely old classic Chevy cameo. It‘s rough, paint work scraped in places and the car has more dents then I‘d like to count. I’m from Japan so I know odd bits of information about American muscle cars. But not as much as I could tell you about a Subaru or a Toyota. Still a nice car will always catch my eye especially a classic like the fair lady before me.
“a 79?” I more question then ask.

Isaac nods. I switch languages from English to Japanese.

“Take down the plates and get someone to boost that puppy for me. Be careful how you do it. Remember I‘m inside and I don‘t want eyes on me.”
“Sure,” Isaac nods and walks down the street no doubt looking for a public phone box.

I step inside Sven‘s, several sets of eyes fall upon me and I try to keep my eyes averted. Moving to the bar and asking for light beer. Looking around I’m startled, I’ve dealt with rough people before. These people are just creepy. I decide to stay at the bar where I have the safety of a bar tender to witness any one who may try to get fresh with me.