Janurary 2019 - 21:39
"So tha alliance is fixin on tryna make us a proper world ya see. With that comes all that alliance food, and clothing, and them their fancy synththinker machines. Problem is, We ain't got no provisional government to really agree on it, so they are stumped on how to even initiate us." Bill said as he took a sip of his beer. Bill was a roughneck. He was young and sported a dusty old wide-brimmed had, with a face that was covered in a thick shaggy beard. He wore a double-breasted button shirt and a pair of ragged filthy blue jeans and Sharp toed hide boots. He was sitting at the bar with three other men. One of them looked ancient, the other fellow was bearly a teenager, and similarly dressed. "Heck, if we could we'd have all that free shit the alliance got and it might make livin here a whole lot easier!"
Ben, the young fellow smiled, flashing a set of yellow teeth and grabbed a cup spitting into it. The grains from his keef were smeared all over his teeth and he spoke. "Yea. I reckon that sounds nice. But. Tha alliance don't really like people havin guns."
Old Man McGuire nodded. "Mmm Hmmm. That boi ain't a lie. Ya get free shit, an ya give up yer rights. Then yer at their mercy and them big governments ain't got time for us little folk. No sir. We settled this world to get away from all of that. Arizona colony is dusty and dirty...and life here is hard, but we are free."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" A raspy voice called out.
Creature was sitting at a bar table peering at the trio as they chatted from over a magazine. The Magazine had a handsome looking fellow on it with thick black sideburns and a red jacket on it that read. "ISC Pheonix in....Fist Full of Explosions!" Creature lowered the book but remained seated. His ankles were propped up on the table. "I just got this comic and everything was going great in it until you three cross-eyed, buck-toothed, sister fucking hicks had to ruin it talking about fucking politics!"
The three men looked at each other. Creature thrashed his tail, the thump reverberating in the now silent bar. The other patrons all paused from their libations and were now observing the four as they all looked at each other. It was Old Man McGuire who broke the silence. His gravelly voice had some wisdom as he spoke. "The Gart-man has the right of it." He then pointed at a sign in the bar that read "No politics, no religion. If you are gunna fight, no guns."
Creature then calmly went back to his book. "Fuckin alliance. What this universe really needs is a hero like Luca Pavone. Fuckin bad ass." Creature said with a grumble He looked up to find the three men were still chatting it up, but every so often sending him a glance. However beyond them. He noticed something. A tan man, with unkempt hair, thick sideburns. Same build and facial features as the hero of his comic book. And an old tattered red jacket, with some faded letters across the back of it.
Creature shook his head. Then checked the back of the book. There was a brief synopsis of the story. Credits, and advertisements to join The Alliance military. Then a small caption that read. "Based on real events and people."
Creature then looked up at the man. Back at his book, back at the man. CRASSSSH!
Creature hit the floor of the bar. The three men had calmly made their way up. Young Ben had taken a beer bottle and his Creature over the head with it, breaking it. Creature fell from his chair and lay on the ground covered in beer. His Comic fell out of his hands and was soaked in excess beer. "There ya go ya got damn Lizard!" Ben Yelled triumphantly. "Thinkin ya can cuss us! This is Arizona, and we don't like you Gart-Men here anyway!"