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It's often I learn about characters I play through interaction and through games of 'what if', and in doing so I get an understanding of how those characters are internally. Some times I even feel the need to write out small stories of interactions. This could be taken as a way of Character Study, trying to get to know these two men I am trying to portray in my interactions in the RP threads of the Fan Fiction forum. To do so I thought I would take the time to post some 'mini-episode' stories, loosely tied to one-another to work on my writing and understanding.
I'd like to kick this first post off with Barret, a scene I was picturing of him after watching far too much youtube. It takes place in everyone's RP staple, the local watering hole. Enjoy.
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The bar smelled of whiskey and puke, the drab hole in the ground that called itself a pub was a road-stop into the city, and Barret sat at his table sprawled in his seat, taking the glass salt-shaker in hand and admiring how little technology had changed in the dispensing of the white-grain staple for bad food. And the food was bad, a terribly cooked piece of meat from whatever rodent the kitchen exterminated sat on his plate, with vegetables that had long since past their expiration date. Barret's eyes fixated on the little container of salt in his grasp, watching the chrome top which reflected in it the grim watering hole. The bar itself was broken and hastily repaired several times, with pistol rounds burned into the frame, light-fixtures which contained mostly burnt-out bulbs, and a dance floor for whatever farmer's daughter thought she could make some extra money strutting and selling herself for. Kitchen was located through a door along side of the bar, where Kerensky only knows what they were doing in there to make the slop they served.
It had been three days since he lost a bet on a Solaris match, and he would have to wait another day before the Jump-Ship was ready to take him out of this periphery planet and get to actual civilization. Then he could get his next contract with Black Widow Company, that off-shoot of Wolf's Dragoons that were, like him, too hard to manage in a standard grouping. Among the misfits and sociopaths he was very comfortable with, it was the supposed 'normal' people that worried him.
Two figures walked from the bar, one small guy, the other one almost as large as Barret himself. The small one sat himself down next to Barret, clean-cut mustache and cap over his head hiding his baldness, the big one had an old cooling-vest draped under a long coat, with a not-completely concealed machete hanging from his hip. The small one opened his mouth first.
"Barret Barret Barret... Boss is startin' to worry about chya. Ya never call, ya never write, ya never come by to pay off the two-thousand c-bill bets, it's like you're just walking away from your friends." The big man leaned in, shadow over-cast on Barret. The small one leaned in and gestured to his plate, taking the fork and stabbing it viciously into the burnt meat. Taking a bite and tearing the rest away from his jaw, he chewed for a bit, throwing the fork and meat back down on the plate to scatter the vegetables over the table onto Barret's lap.
"Now, I'm sure you're good for it, and Boss was kind enough to send us out to get ya on your way to settling up with us. All friendly like. And you wanna stay friends with us right? Periphery is a nasty place without friends. Something bad always happens to people without friends, and we wouldn't want that, would we Jake?" The small man turned to his larger companion.
"That's right Russ, 'friends'."
"The stake sucks anyway, so let's go." Russ, the small man exclaimed, and was about to sit up before feeling something cold, twisted and sharp pressed into his knee-cap.
"I was not done eating. Sit, and I will tell you how this is going to happen."
The large man Jake brushed aside his coat slightly and gripped the machete underneath, his face turned cross.
"See, I am leaving tomorrow, so I do not see any reason for me to 'settle' with anyone. What I am going to do is eat my dinner, go to bed, and forget that you came to all the trouble of seeing me over chump-change. You are going to tell 'Boss' that Barret is settled, and not to come bothering me." Barret pulled the S-shaped butterfly knife's tip away from Jake's knee and began cutting into the stake. Salt-shaker still in hand, he began to sprinkle it over his meal when Russ brushed his forarm fast over the table, knocking the plate to the floor.
"He said Let's Go."
Barret stood there with his knife in hand and a salt-shaker in the other. Suddenly the table was knocked forward crashing into Russ' knee and forcing him to step-back. Jake tried to reach for something at his hip, but the knife in Barret's hand found itself directly into his knee-cap, digging deep into the joint of the man's leg. He yelped loudly, and was abruptly silenced as the salt-shaker was jammed into his mouth, breaking a few teeth upon it's violent intrusion. Barret slipped a hand behind the small man's head and brought it swiftly down onto the corner of the up-turned table, hearing the horrifying cracks and shatters of jaw, glass, and teeth. The salt dug deep into the man's mouth wounds, primarily the tongue that was almost cut in two with large deep gashes along it's length, the burning sensation was enough to make him cough up blood and enamel chunks trying to scream.
Jake had pulled something out of his coat, but it wasn't the long blade he was carrying, but a pistol. Barret ducked low behind the over-turned table and tackled it, forcing it over onto Jake. A shot rang, and a burning sensation could be felt in Barret's gut. Jake being pinned under the table made for horrible shooting, but his shot still struck. Bringing his knees to the edge of the up-turned table, straddling his would-be killer, Barret took hold of the man's wrist and reached into his coat. Jake tried to fight him off, as Barret drew out the large machete. Jake reached up to try and stop the swing as it came down towards his wrist Barret held down with his other hand, but all he managed to do was have the blade slice through his fingers leaving four evenly-cut bloody stumps on the way down to it's intended target.
The weapon was brought up again,and then down, over and over as the man began to loose bits and pieces of himself all over the bar-floor. It went on for what felt like an eternity, until Barret's vision was starting to blur and the burning sensation in his gut.
The machete dropped to the wooden floor among the chunks of meat that use to be Jake, and turned to Russ with a sickening grin. Standing, he approached the man. "Well, since your companion will not be joining us, let's step into my office and discuss the situation, shall we?" Barret reached to Russ' side and pulled out another pistol from a hidden holster, and cast it aside.
Grabbing the knife in the man's knee, he gave it a sharp twist as he pulled it out, further separating the joint. Taking hold of Russ' collar, he proceeded to drag him towards the kitchen door.
The last of the cooks was running out the back as Russ' body was thrown through the door and crashing into the gas stove that had pots of what could barely be called stew were beginning to boil over. Barret took a look around and saw the cutting board with a large butcher knife. Taking hold of the knife, he placed it on the stove burner, and crouched low to meet Russ' face.
"Now who are we going to talk to about your disappointment with the stake? Well, that is ok." Russ looked up at the handle of the knife that was quickly heating.
"Oh that? That is for me. Do not worry Russ, we got a whole play-pen worth of toys to occupy our brief time together. See, I do not take kindly to being threatened, and I say who I owe, not you, not your boss. Are ya with me so far?" Russ nodded quickly in agreement.
"Good." Grasping hold of the heated knife, Barret pulled away the cloth around the gun-shot. It went right through, but the blood was draining on the floor and it was confusing on who's blood was who's. Pressing the flat of the knife against the front of the wound, the smell of burning skin wafted through out the air. He groaned as he did his back, stopping the blood loss for the time being, time he needed to 'discuss' matters with his newly acquired play-mate.
"Now, first thing is first, the food. Man has to eat, so we are going to go over how they really should have done the stake." Grasping Russ' hand at the wrist, he brought it down hard onto the stove. Blood and screams came from his mouth as the first layer of skin began to burn away. "The trick is always the seer. You see, you got to make sure you seal in all the juices, that is how you will not get that dried-rat flavour we both had to endure."
Russ continued to make a racket as Barret reached his hand into the man's mouth and grabbed hold of a piece of his tongue that was barely attached, glass imbedded into the roof of his mouth. With a sharp yank, the chunk of flesh came out with a splattering of blood. He gave it a casual toss into the deep-fryer, and twisted Russ' wrist to begin 'seering' the other side of his hand.
"Now, it is important to make sure it is cooked to the customer's satisfaction. Most like it medium-rare, I am more of a 'rare' guy myself, but..." He looked to Russ who's eyes were shrink-wrapped in tears. "... YOU my good 'friend' - look like a Well-Done kinda guy. So..." Rick stood and began to drag Russ through the kitchen as Russ' whimpers and nonsensical pleas continued.
"...That is when a Food Press comes in handy. It cooks both sides evenly and works well after a good seer."
The press was right next to the deep frier, and Russ was so pain-stricken he could barely move. It wasn't until the metal plates pressed over his already dead-nerved hand that he began to thrash, but by then it had already been locked into position. Bending Russ' 'good' arm behind his back, Barret clasped his other hand around the back of Russ' neck and began to push him forward close to the deep-frier.
"Now, about the debt. There is none. I am sure you will tell your Boss that my check has cleared. Ahh what am I saying, you will not be saying much of anything anymore. But that is ok, I am sure a creative guy like you could find a way to tell him that, right? So, we are settled then?" Russ nodded vigorously as the heat of the frier was becoming too much for him to take.
"Good." Barret smiled, then suddenly threw his knee into the man's sternum, casting the wind from his lungs. He pushed down on the man's head, and as his face made contact with the boiling oil Barret savoured the smell. The man had tried to inhale to scream as his visage submerged, only to inhale burning grease. Barret let go of the man who fell to the ground thrashing about, unable to breathe, burning and blind. "I am sure your Boss will understand what we talked about." he said as he left the kitchen.
Turning to the bar, the bartender was holding an antique shotgun towards Barret, shaking. Raising one hand to him in a jesture to give him a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He began putting down one by one a total of two-thousand C-Bills on the counter and moved it to the barkeep. "That should cover the meal, inconvenience, and a tip for yourself."
Walking towards the exit, he heard the barkeep mutter in a squeaky voice "W-why?"
As the door closed, Barret's voice came through. "Because I owe ya."
Edited by MacabreDerek, 04 May 2012 - 10:46 AM.
That's sweet. Awesomely written, Derek.
