[Cheville Thompson]

Plot

Date: October 24th, 2437.
Setting: Miami, 1 day before 'The Incident'.

Ironically, Miami became a peaceful place after the war, and all of the major crimes seemed to stop.
Because of the scarcity of essential items, people had become more set on surviving, and helping eachother, rather than involving themselves with pointless violence. There were no raiders, no super mutants, no slavers or Enclave. Occasionally there were a few petty crimes, such as stealing, but the need for violence was rare.

Over 300 years after the bombs dropped, many pre-war machines and items had been re-created. Many cars were now operable, many buildings had been re-made and reinforced, and everyone seemed to be getting along. But that all changed, on October 25th, when the police discovered an unexplainable chain of murders, that sent the city into a downward spiral of chaos and violence.

That's where you come in.

You eventually find a man named Ryan Winchester (My character.), who's looking to put a stop to the chaos. After some time to sort things out, you join forces with him, and search throughout Miami to find the cause of the madness.

Will you survive, or will you fall victim to the mass psychosis?
-------------------------

Rules.

1. You must have exceptional grammar. As in; begin each sentence with a space and a capital letter, space after using punctuation, do your best to spell correctly, don't allow paragraphs to become to large (Double space and start a new paragraph.), and I would prefer that you seperate your dialogue from your paragraphs. Example:

Jack ran into the sewer and met up with Carl.

"I think I lost them..." Jack said, gasping for air.

"Alright, lets go." Carl replied, as began to walk away, motioning for jack to follow.

End example. Yeah, I know, alot for one rule right? Don't worry, they'll get shorter.


2. No godmodding. Don't walk over to a pack of psycho killers, and say you killed every one of them with out any help, and with your barehands.

3. Do not control the story. This is not your rp, don't create a bunch of main events, or create an ending, etc.

4. Don't kill another user without their permission. Simple enough?

5. Keep the OOC to a minimum. If you have any questions, don't wait until the Rp thread to ask them, post them here.

6. The Golden Rule: Have fun!

------------------------

Cast:


http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showuser=546703: Ryan Winchester

Appearance:
-Facial Features & Hair: http://www.telepisodes.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/deanwinchester-supernatural.jpg (It's a link... click it.)
-Eyes: Blue
-Build: Athletic, but not bulging with muscles. 5'11"


Occupation: Former FBI Private Investigator, currently unemployed, but earns caps through fight tournaments.
---------------

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showuser=571512: Matt Taylor

Appearance:
-Facial Features & Hair: Dark Brown, edged with red dye.
-Eyes: Brown
-Build: 5'11", athletic build.

Occupation: Hired Hand (ex Ranger)
---------------
http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showuser=575722: Alan Lancer

Appearance:Black BlastBack hair, rough beard, brown eyes

Occupation: Arms Dealer
---------------

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showuser=565410: Johnathan Webber, goes by Webb, or Webby.

Appearance:
-Facial Features & Hair: Raggedy black hair that is barely ever kept. Nose slightly disfigured/crooked from being broken so many times, both eyes still slightly bruised.
-Eyes: Blue
-Build: 5'10", Athletic

Occupation: Local Bar's Cook
---------------

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showuser=569239: Mike Just

Appearance:
-Facial Features & Hair: smooth skin, short hair.
-Eyes: Green
-Build: 5"10', athletic, but a few pounds over

Occupation: Police Detective
---------------

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showuser=552678: Erin Saylee

Appearance:
-Facial Features & Hair: Light, angular face, small light colored mouth. Sandy brown colored hair, cut to about 3-4 inches, and done in a fauxhawk.
-Eyes: Hazel
-Build: Slender build, light skin color, 5'9"

Occupation: Police Officer, Private Investigator
---------------

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showuser=410704: Feye Leverarch

Appearance:
-Facial Features & Hair: Currently has a healing cut lip from getting mugged. Hair short and spikey brunnette. http://hairstyleschat.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/short-funky-hairstyles.jpg
-Eyes: Bright blue
-Build: Slender build, 5'8
-Extra: Two small tattoos of faeries looking at each other either side of her spine on lower back.

Occupation: Courier.
---------------



Okay, it finally starts... Wait for my IC post before posting.

[Brooks Hardison]

Ryan swiftly leaned to the right, as the man threw a jab towards his head. While the man's arm was extended, Ryan grabbed a hold of it and pulled the man towards him, sending his knee into the man's gut. He fell backwards onto the grimy cement floor and wrapped his arms around his stomach shouting out in agony. He spit out some of his teeth into a puddle of blood, before rolling onto his back, unconscious.

Everyone in the room went crazy, all cheering and shouting. Tyler walked over to Ryan and grinned, grabbing his hand it raising it into the air.

"I think we've got a winner folks!" Tyler shouted, holding Ryan's arm in the air.

Tyler let go of Ryan's hand and reached into his pocket, everyone in the room was still cheering. Tyler pulled out a wad of cash that was held together with a rubber band. He handed it to Ryan, grinning.

"It's all yours buddy." Tyler said with his arm outstretched towards Ryan.

Ryan took the wad of bills out of Tyler's hand and slid it into his flannel jacket.

"Thanks Ty'." Ryan said as he began to walk away.

(Your first post should just be of your character doing their job, just a post for character development. And yes, Pre-war money is used now in place of caps.)

[Heather Stewart]

"Dammit!" Mel yelled out as he cut his index finger. He was attempting to fix a cars exhaust system, which had been clogged. He reached his hand in deep, and pulled out a pre-war potato.

"Theres your problem!" Melvin said to his customer "Must be your ex!" He said jokingly, and accepted his money. He walked over to his work table as the customer left, and grabbed his rag. He whipped off the grease on his for-head, and pulled a Nuka-Cola out.

"I think I've deserved a little treat" he said as he opened the cap and took a drink.

Damn, I need a break he thought, as he drank his Cola

[GPMG]

"And that will be $30, please" Alan said to the man buying the pistol.

"Oh, well, here you are" The man said.

Alan's Assault didn't get much business, due to the fact that Miami was a safe place to live.
It was mostly people who thought that their not safe enough.
He also usually supplied the Police Department.
But still, Alan liked what he did, and wouldn't give it up for the world.
He heard a loud 'Dammit' from next door, it was the mechanic, Mel.

Alan sat and waited for his next overly-frightened costumers to buy weapons they probably don't need...
OOC I'm also going to bed...

[Bethany Watkin]

A grimace came over Webb's face as he stared at the patrons of Cody Jack's bar. They were all dirty, smelled terrible, and were yelling obscenities at all of the workers. There was nothing more he would like better than for one one of them to pick a fight with him. At least the cigarette smoke drowned out their smell. Webb pulled out a cigar from his stained apron pocket, and admired its texture. It had aged perfectly; the tobacco was moist and the cone had been cut perfectly. He rolled it over his lighter's flame, making sure it would give a nice, even draw. A strong aroma filled the kitchen, raising his morale a bit. He place it between his lips and drew in the bitter smoke, the sweet taste sticking to his tongue. He blew the smoke out, finally in a state of bliss.

A stew covered spoon smacked onto the side of his face. His eyes shot open, his mood ruined. He saw several laughing patrons. "Get me my [censored] stew!" one of them yelled. He threw the spoon back as hard as he could, but luckily the patron dodged it. The laughing got louder. He slammed the kitchen door, fed up with these people. He poured another portion of thick orange stew into another bowl. He wiped the residue from his cheek onto his apron, the orange blending in with every other stain. With a mischievous smile, he cleared his throat, drawing saliva into his mouth. He let a bulb of spit fall into the man's stew while he stirred it. He cleared his expression back to his grimace, opening the door. He walked towards the man, looking furious. He slammed the bowl in front of him, specks of stew flying across the bar.

"There you go you impatient [censored]!" he said with a feign anger. As he turned, an immediate smile arose on his face. He couldn't help but laugh.

"Enjoy it, [censored]." he whispered through his teeth as he disappeared into the kitchen.

[Hot]

Mike sat at his desk, observing the picture of his wife he kept framed at his desk. He smiled when he thought of seeing her after his shift. Because he knew for a fact he would. The only thing that happens in the city is petty thefts, nothing bigger then someone stealing a purse from an old lady.

He leaned forward and onto his desk. He dug his face into his crossed arms, and tried to get comfortable.

'If they need me, they'll wake me' he thought to himself.

[ruCkii]

It took Leo 5 kicks to start up the motorbike. Better than last time.... He zoomed his bike past the town. Leo never wore a helmet when riding his bike, yeah he could die, but he didn't care really.
He reached the police station and parked his bike. Jamie was at the front desk at the station.
Jamie said, "Mornin Leo, your expected at the firing range. Have a nice day."
"You too Jamie," replied Leo.
He walked through a door which said "Firing Range". The instructor was loading a Pistol, he noticed Leo and handed it to him, "Ok Leo hit the targets."
Leo felt the weight of the gun and aimed it at a few spots. He quite liked training at the shooting range, it was cool when you hit the target bang in the middle.

He aimed the gun at a wooden board with a dummy drawn on it. You could aim for: the head, the heart or around the body. I'll pick the heart...
Leo quickly levelled the gun so the heart of the dummy was in sights, then fired.

The bullet pierced through the wood of the heart. The instructor clapped his back and laughed, "I'm telling you Leo, your a born natural! Now have a couple more practice shots. When your finished take the gun home with you, you've got a gun license now. Well done you passed." The instructor walked away while Leo looked at his gun.
Wow, my very own gun!

OOC: Guys I'm going to sleep now. Nighty night, sleep tight, don't let the bugs bite! Yeah that was pretty lame sorry...

[Killah Bee]

Johnathan slammed the door of the taxi and started the ignition.
Another long day at the office, he thought as he drove out of the Taxi Compound. The Miami streets were filled with life, a bit too much life.

A traffic jam was blocking where Johnathan wanted to go, his favourite coffee shop, "Jeans Quality Food and Drinks".
He honked his horn and looked up into the car mirror. He looked unusually tired, his eye sockets were dark and sagging, and his blue eyes looked grey in the morning light.

He honked again and swore, no change had been made to the traffic jam. Johnathan open the door of the taxi and stepped out, from what he could see the jam stretched on for a few hundred metres. He decided that the best way to get a coffee would be to walk, so he did.

After a few minutes of walking he reached the caf? and stepped inside. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled his nostrils. He sat down at a booth and ordered a latte.
A few minutes later a steaming hot cup of chocolate and froth was sitting on a plate in front of him, daring him to take a sip. Johnathan downed the drink in one gulp and hurried back outside. The traffic had gone.

Finally Johnathan thought and hurried back to his cab, which luckily had no irritated people stuck behind it. He hopped in and started it up, the sweet rumbling of the engine filled his ears and he couldn't help but smile. He drove off and stopped to pick up a young woman who needed to get somewhere, fast.
Johnathan smiled mischievously and hit the gas. Hard. He watched the speedometer rise to 60, 70, 80, 90?
The girl laughed with glee as Johnathan hit the brakes at the location he was heading for. She paid, stepped out of the cab and walked away, smiling the entire time.

[Devils Cheek]

Ryan pushed open the double doors of the underground facility and walked into an alleyway. The air was fresh, and free of the scent of blood and sweat. Ryan took a deep breath and grinned. Today was going to be a good day. He turned to his right and walked down the narrow alleyway, exiting onto the side walk. The massive population of Miami were scurrying around the streets and sidewalks as usual, going about their business.

Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, he steadied his hand and slid it into the keyhole afterwards. A satisfying 'click' echoed out of the keyhole, and Ryan turned the knob of the door. The rusty door hinges whined as Ryan pushed it open, and they did the same as he pushed it closed. He was greeted by the smell of spoiled milk and rancid meat.

"Home sweet home my ass..." Ryan muttered.

He stepped into the living room and fell back onto his recliner, reaching down beside him and pulling on a wooden lever connected to the chair, releasing a foot rest. The recliner was grimy, and covered in stains, but none the less comfortable. He felt around beneath the cushion of the recliner until his hand met with something plastic and square in shape. He pulled it up and out from the cushion and looked at it. The tv remote.

"Here we are." Ryan said, as he leaned back and pressed a button on the remote.

The tv made a low rumble, and the black screen flickered to a bright picture.

An advertisemant for Cody Jack's Bar came on and began to play.

"I could go for a cold one right now." Ryan muttered.

His muscles were aching, and a relentless migraine pounded on his skull. He definately needed some rest. His eyelids started to droop, and his eyes started to dry out.

"Maybe later..." He mumbled, as he leaned back on his recliner and shut his eyes, drifting into a deep sleep.

[Emily Martell]

Most of the patrons had cleared out by this time of night, and the only people left in the bar were Webb and Marco. Webb had already turned off the stoves, done cooking for the night, and settled down with a nice bottle of bourbon. We walked behind the bar, towards Marco, still flirting with a young looking girl. They both looked drunk. Webb pulled a stool up in front of them, slammed down the bottle followed by three glasses. He sat down and filled all three up, the couple smiling at him. Webb raised his glass.

"Cheers." he said. They both followed. Glass after glass piled up into the sink. After almost half an hour of messing around with them, Webb had become drunk himself. Marco and the woman had enjoyed some of the war stories Marco told them; mostly about mishaps in brothels or starting fights with the locals. He could see in marco's eyes he was ready to take this girl home. As they shuffled out of the door, Webb pulled another cigar from his apron. He ran it under his nose, always enjoying the aroma. He cut the tip with his knife and went to work with his later. Seeing the message engraved on it brought back memories of the Agony coup. He never enjoyed talking about the actual fighting; it's something he's not proud of.

The lighter was taken off of a Lanta militia Officer. Webb even took the cigar he had been smoking which is how he acquired his taste for them. The aroma always made him relive the fighting, something he always enjoyed. Being holed up here in this crappy bar just to provide for his parents wasn't an ideal life. All he ever wanted was an enemy to fight again. Webb reached under the bar and grabbed a glowing green bottle. He filled a cup with ice, an emptied the contents of a sugar packet over it. As he poured the liquid it turned clear. He tossed it back almost immediately, sending him into bit of a daze. His head hung for a moment, but finally crashed onto the bar. He passed out.

[Ronald]

The door of the apartment slammed louder than usual when Erin entered. She'd just lost fifty dollars betting on a fight that her friends talked her into betting on. They said their guy would beat Ryan Winchester in ten seconds flat, but it had been the other way around. She didn't necessarily approve of illegal fighting, but she was off the clock, so it wasn't her concern. She tossed her purse onto the old couch that sat in front of her broken television set. She kicked off her shoes and turned on the radio to listen for any important news. Nothing.

"What a waste of a night," Erin said to herself, putting her head into her hands as she sat on her bed.

Erin let out a long sigh and kicked her shoes off. She slowly prepared herself for some sleep. It was quite early, but she'd spent all the cash she wanted to that night.

As she pulled the covers over her she said to herself, "At least I get my paycheck tomorrow..."

[Etta Hargrave]

Matt couldn't wait for the night to end. As the night ended so would his journey. He'd been contracted to help guard a Caravan from Orlando to Miami. He'd been able to see the city for about an hour now; it was just getting there that was taking the problem.

"Any chance you'll come back with us? We'll pay you a good price," asked the Caravan owner. Matt hadn't even remembered his name.

"I'm an ex-Ranger, we don't do protection. Find a few mercs to help you. Besides, I'm looking forward to a nice cold beer."

It wasn't long before they reached the city. Right, where's the nearest bar? He smiled at the thought.

[Cash n Class]

(OOC: The other topic was locked so I'll post my sheet here.)

Name: Peter Lewis

Age: 25

Gender/Race: Male, Caucasian, Human.

*Occupation (Job): Construction worker

*Primary Skills: Melee weapons, Repair, Speech

Appearance:
-Facial Features & Hair: Medium length brown hair, pushed back. He has a small scar just above his right eyebrow.
-Eyes: Brown
-Build (Athletic, slender etc. Include height): Meduim-High build, 6'1'

Clothing/Armor: Wasteland merc outfit.

Weapons: Sledge Hammer, Hunting knife

Misc Items/Food & Drink: noodles, canteen of water, pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Medical Items: A stimpack

Personality: Peter is the all round nice guy, he's ready to lend a hand when people need it. He's mildly talkative and enjoys a good cigarette every now and then.

Bio: Pete grew up in Miami and attended the school. He always had a passion for construction and building. Before he graduated he left school to help rebuild the city. Ever since the age of 16 he has worked construction, his family is very proud of him and what he has achieved. He has a younger brother, mum and dad, who all live across town. Peter lives on his own but frequently joins his friends for a beer.

[Soraya Davy]

Alan decided to take the day off, he knew that Sundays he never got business.
He decided to go catch a drink at Cody Jacks bar, maybe get a bite to eat.
It was a little dangerous in there, being a bar.


Alan walked through the doors, immediately the smell of bourbon and vomit entered his nose.
"Smells better every time I come here" He said to himself.
"Give me a Vodka and, um, some Fish." He said to the cook.
A drunk came up next to him.

"hey, I know you!" he was spitting as he talked, Alan covered his face.

"You own Alan's, uuhhh, Ashmoult, yeah thats it" The drunk said, not getting his words right.

"Yeah, that's right, have you been there?" Alan asked.

"No, but I pissed on the side of it before!" he said.

"Oh, lovely, please go away?" Alan said, disgusted.

The drunk stumbled away, leaving Alan in peace to wait for his Fish.

"Here you are sir, Fresh of the grill!" The cook said.

"you didn't spit in this did you?" Ala asked jokingly, but he did mean it.

"You want me to?" The cook said as he walked back to the Kitchen.

Alan went to a window seat and ate his Fish.
It was better than usual, so he took his time to eat it.
He drank his Vodka, it was watered down.

'Fish and Vodka won't taste good coming back up' he thought.

[Captian Caveman]

((OOC: Guys, just to let to you know, the time in the rp is about 12:00 pm, 1 day before the murders.))

Ryan's eyes began began to open, and he lifted his head up to look at his watch.

12:14

He let his head fall back and hit the recliner. The day was about to pass him by, and he still needed a beer. He let out and sigh and leaned foward, getting out of his chair. The bar would be packed with drunks right about now, but Ryan wasn't going to let a bar full of douchebags ruin his day. He walked towards the door and turned the tv off on his way, his jacket was hanging on the coat rack, so he pulled it off and slid it on, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows as he always did.

The air felt unusually cold, and the sky was grey and gloomy. Ryan ignored it and unlocked the door of his http://rcrawford79.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/1967-chevrolet-impala.jpg, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and fumbled around with them to find the right one. He held one of them infront of him, letting the sunlight reveal it. He smirked and slid it into the ignition with one hand, while he closed the car door with the other.

As he turned the key, the car began to rumble and roar, the sounds he'd learned to love. His foot layed down on the gas, and he sped down the road, towards Cody Jack's.

The smell of liquor and the sound of angry drunks poured through the open windows of Ryan's car. He was right, the bar was packed.

"Just my luck..." Ryan muttered as he turned his key and pulled it out of the ignition.

He opened the car door and pushed it closed, locking it before he went into the bar. As he approached the front door, it swung open, revealing a man with with both eyes bruised and blood running out of his nose. Ryan moved to the side and let the man pass him by, he didn't bother looking back.

Ryan grabbed hold of the door before it swung closed, and entered the bar. The shouting instantly grew louder and the aroma of alchohol grew stronger. He sat down on a barstool and rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands together, and waiting for the bartender.

[CORY]

It had just gone quarter past midday when Matt arrived at Cody Jack’s. It seemed like an okay place, it was fairly packed. That was good, less people to notice him, or so he thought. He went to the bar and ordered a beer; he paid the bill and took a swig. He glanced down both ends of the bar, one guy stood out. He had shortish brown hair and looked fairly athletic. He wore a flannel jacket with a grey t-shirt and jeans. Matt was sure he’d seen him before. The answer came with the next swig of his beer. There had been an advert on the street, something to do with a fight. Damn, what is his name? The answer came not long after: Ryan.

“Hey you, your Ryan right? The fighter, yeah? Here, have a drink on me.”

Matt tossed him a few coins and went back to drinking. As he finished his drink he ordered another. He found a table and went to sit and be alone with his thoughts.

[Tyler F]

Alan saw the man pull up in the car.
'New coat of paint and that would look hardcoe' He said to himself.
Alan finished up his fish and put his plate up to the pick-up section.
He sat down next the guy with the car.

"Hey man, that's a pretty sweet car you have."Alan said, envious of him

Alan didn't own a car, they were to expensive, and he didn't make that much.

OOC:I have to go offline for a bit, LBHH can I entrust you to write a few lines of dialogue for Alan?

[Soku Nyorah]

Mel walked into Cody Jacks. He needed something to eat. He walked up to the bar, and put a few bills down. He was hungry for really anything.

"Anything that dosnt move, please." He said to the men behind the bar.

[des lynam]

((OOC: I meant 12 noon not midnight, lol.))

Ryan cupped the coins up off the table and held them in his hand.

"Thanks." Ryan said, watching the man walk to an empty table.

Who knew you could aqquire so much fame for beating the living [censored] out of people.

"Can I help you?"

Ryan turned around and saw the bartender standing infront of him.

"Huh? Oh yeah, sorry, I'll have a beer." Ryan said, emptying the money he had just received into the bartenders hand.

"Alright, be back in a second."

A man sat down next to Ryan and grinned.

"Hey man, that's a pretty sweet car you have."

"Thanks, I'm thinking of redoing the paint job." Ryan said to the man.

[Lucky Girl]

"I was just thinking that" Alan replied.
"So, how did you come to own somein' that?" He asked?
He ordered a Nuka-cola to offset the Vodka.

[Kayla Keizer]

"It was my dad's, but I have no idea where he got it." Ryan replied.

"Here you are." Said a voice beside Ryan.

The bartender slid Ryan's beer down the counter, and Ryan intercepted it with his hand.

"Thanks." Ryan said, flashing a short smile.

Ryan popped the cap off of the bottle and let it fall onto the counter. He took a swig and set his beer down, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"You run that weapons shop right? Umm... Alan's Assault?" Ryan asked tilting his head slightly.

[Marcin Tomkow]

"Yep, that's me, I don't get much business you know." Alan said opening his Vodka.

Alan took down some of his Vodka.

"But I like what I do, and I do have a little nest egg for a rainy day..."

"So, I heard you in the underground fight thing, right?" Alan said.

[Rachael]

Webb's eyes opened slowly, finding himself on a damp, stick ground. Like the move theater from hell. He stood up slowly and realized he was still at work for some reason. There were only two other workers present with a few patrons, but none of them had bothered to wake him up. He picked up his lighter and cigar off the ground and place them in his pocket. One of the employees rushed over to him and set a warm cup of coffee in front of him. He immediately drank half of it down, feeling slightly better. Reaching into a bowl under the counter, he retrieved a white and red peppermint and popped it into his mouth. Nearly stumbling over to the men having a conversation, Webb leaned onto the bar and got a few words out.

"Can I... get you guys anything?" he said in his groggy morning voice. He's never seen him here before; and wasn't even sure the guy living in Miami who owned a flannel jacket knew what country he was in, let alone city.

[Lory Da Costa]

"The one and only." Ryan joked, taking another swig of beer.

A tall bulky man walked into the bar, and seemed to be surprised to see Ryan and Alan. He walked over to where the two were sitting and looked Ryan in eyes with an angry glare.

"Hey pal, that's my seat." The man said.

The whole bar grew quiet and stopped what they were doing, looking over to the man. He was known well in the bar, and known for starting fights for no good reason. Ryan already knew where this was going, and frankly he was up for a fight, so he figured he might as well deal the first blow.

"Oh I'm sorry, here, let me help you with that." Ryan said, as he stood up and began to grin.

Ryan quickly grabbed the seat of the barstool and lifted it into the air, he wound his arms backwards and swung it towards the man's head. His eyes widened, just before the wooden legs of the barstool shattered to pieces as they slammed into the side of his head. He fell to the side and smacked his head off of the counter, then collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

"Well that was easy." Ryan remarked, dropping the legless barstool to his side. He reached over and grabbed his beer off of the counter, taking another swig.

[Nick Tyler]

That Ryan guy was chatting to some guy, who loved his leather by the looks of it. He looked a bit unkempt with the beard and everything. Each to his own. It seemed like the bar was getting louder and noisier, and Matt was hungry. He pulled his brown bag of Gum Drops out and ate a few; he put the bag on the table and carried on drinking. He had forgotten what a good beer tasted like.

On the far side of the bar a fight broke out, some people craned their necks to watch. The Barman broke it up fairly quickly; damn he's got a good punch. He grabbed a few more Gum Drops; they tasted good, hence why he carried a bag of them where ever he went. It was almost like an addiction.

His attention came back to Ryan; the bar's cook had practically fallen over the pair. Some guy came over to them and started making trouble, something about a seat. Ryan dispatched him with a swing of the bar stool. Matt was impressed, the guy had guts. He went over.

"I'm impressed, that was pretty cool. I'm Matt by the way."

He turned to the guy who'd been talking to Ryan seconds before the fight

"And you are?"