FNG

Last Call Tavern 

A place like this makes a person wish every chair sat with its back to a wall.

The tavern is a dark and shadowy place, the outside glow of the nebula filtering in weakly while pale blue plasma lanterns gleam in the center of most tables (some seem to have run out of juice, but the complaints department doesn't care and the maintenance crew doesn't get paid enough to intrude on conversations better left in the darkness).

The room stinks of sweat, cigarette smoke, and spilled alcohol and blood.

Fifteen tables and six booths are arrayed around a central C-shaped bar counter, which has eight stools in front of it.

"Stay in touch," Neidermeyer grunts.

Niesa's hand closes around the edge of the bar, her eyes nearly cutting a hole into the worn wooden countertop. "Will do."

Jinyu stands immobile.

Tony, the no-neck thug mentioned earlier, sidles over to the bar, unholstering his plasma pistol. "Don't like the way that freak's been eyeballin' me, chief," he growls, eyes on Jinyu.

Neidermeyer shrugs, signaling the bartender. "Whiskey, Dutch." He looks toward Tony and says, "Shoot his balls off, if you want. Just make sure he can still fly around and shit."

Niesa puts a hand on Jinyu's chest. "Hey," she say rather quickly. "He's mine. If anybody shoots his balls off, it'll be me."

Uncertain but by no means cowed, Jinyu returns Tony's stare. He takes a step back gratefully at Niesa's intervention.

Tony harumphs, furrowing his monobrow, then holsters his pistol and puts his hands up, palms out. "Whatever, sister."

"She would, too. There've been moments already. These babies," Jinyu says, gesturing to his crotch, "are on probation." He grins, looking awfully boyish.

Neidermeyer chuckles. Dutch delivers the whiskey and Neidermeyer takes a sip. Setting the glass on the counter, he nods to the bartender. "Tastes a lot less like donkey piss than last time."

Tony just glares at Jinyu.

Niesa raps her knuckles on the bar, "High praise," she remarks. "I'll have the same."

Dutch nods and pours a glass of whiskey for Niesa. About this time, the other thug - distinguished from his counterpart primarily by a missing ear and a ragged scar from his right eye to his left cheek - wanders over to lurk behind Jinyu.

Not noticing the second goon, Jinyu turns back to the bar. "Anything's better than that urine we were drinking earlier." He motions for Dutch to pour another glass, and is disappointed when he is ignored.

Neidermeyer takes another sip of his whiskey, then notices his itchy bodyguards stalking Jinyu. "Shit, boys, can't you find more challenging prey crawling around in your goddamned jockstraps? Leave the puss alone and go knock some heads around in the back room or something."

Niesa pulls the freshly poured hooch to her and jerks a thumb toward Jinyu. "Not a bad pilot this one," she says, venturing a sip of the dark liquid.

Tony and One Ear trade smirks and chortles, then wander off to menace other patrons. Jinyu is left unmolested for the moment.

At the plural, Jinyu looks around in surprise. He slips, one elbow sliding off the bar, but catches himself adroitly and watches in some satisfaction as the goons retreat.

"Yeah, well," Neidermeyer says, placing his whiskey glass on the counter. "All the best pilots can down a bucket of Zangali canal water and *keep* it down."

Niesa looks up at Jinyu and shakes her head. "You're on your own."

Jinyu swallows. "That's... that's not any relation to Nall Piss, is it?" He shudders as if at some unpleasant memory.

Neidermeyer glances over at Jinyu. "Nall Piss? Hell, no, Junior. It's completely non-alcoholic. All natural."

Jinyu's expression clears in relief, then suspicion returns. "Oh, really?" he replies guardedly.

"I'll clear out the sinktraps, start filling a bucket," Dutch volunteers, going off to do just that.

Neidermeyer nods after Dutch, takes another sip of whiskey, sets down the glass, then smirks at Jinyu. "Zangali love this shit. What can you expect from a bunch of fucked up scaleback alien blockheads, though? They drink it by the bucket, right? It's nothing but the shitty leftover water from dishwashing and toilet cleaning."

Niesa steps quietly away from the bar, taking her drink with her.

"And you just happen to have a supply of this all-natural, non-alcoholic wonder to hand, right?" remarks Jinyu, deadpan.

"It takes a little work," Neidermeyer responds, gesturing toward Dutch, who is kneeling under the counter and unscrewing one of the plumbing pipes to allow some milky gray water to gush into a dented metal bucket. "It's like milking some kind of diseased cow, really. The Zangali are particularly fond of shit that's been allowed to ferment for days, weeks if you can manage it. Chunks of lard. Twists of hair. Kernels of re-processed corn. Hell, they think shit nuggets are like caramels."

Jinyu looks over his shoulder at Niesa. For a change he seems quite calm, almost resigned. Closer inspection reveals that his hands are trembling slightly. His expression is quite clear: 

Hand on her hip, Niesa studies Neidermeyer for a long moment. Finally, she loosens her set jaw. "Can I have my pilot back now? Please?"

Neidermeyer clenches his jaw, looking over at Niesa. "Oh, come on, let an old man have some fun. He'd wake up from the coma *eventually*."

"Will ya look at this?" Dutch exclaims, sidling over with a bucket full of fresh Zangali canal water. He points at the bucket as he sets it on the counter. "Some kinda freaky worms squiggling around in there. Ain't maggots. Them's all dead, down in the bottom."

Neidermeyer peers into the bucket and nods to Dutch. "Well, don't just stand there: Stir it up."

Niesa downs the rest of her drink and puts the glass down onto the bar with a solid clank. "Come on, Jinyu," she says, glaring over the counter at Dutch. "We have real work to get done."

"Awwww, you mean I'll have to save this batch of sink juice for Knuckles?" Neidermeyer inquires.

Jinyu tries hard to smile. Shakily, he turns back to the bar. "Well, I'd love to stay and drain the dregs with you, but duty calls." He stands and risks a glance at the putrid contents of the bucket. "Although," he comments, coughing at the stench, "it does look -awfully- tempting."

Neidermeyer makes an O with his mouth, then smiles and nods to Dutch. "Fix up a to-go order for Junior."

Niesa shoots the pilot a vicious stare, her jaw clenching.

Jinyu's face falls, realising his mistake. "Oh, but I -" looking frantically at Niesa, "but we -"

Dutch glances from Neidermeyer to Jinyu, then back to the honcho. "Want me to hold him down? Or Tony?"

Neidermeyer nods to Dutch. "You can hold him down and open his mouth. I'll let Tony pour it."

Niesa backs away from the bar again, her pale hair shining in the low lit bar as she slowly shakes her head.

As if on cue, the monobrowed Tony sidles back toward the bar. "My ears burnin' or did someone call me?"

Jinyu looks around desperately at the approaching Tony, as it dawns on him that there is no escape. Shaking his head, he stares down at his hands, palms up, and awaits the inevitable.

Neidermeyer nods to Dutch, who comes around the bar and puts his hands on Jinyu's shoulders. "We can do this easy, son, or we can do it real hard. Up to you," the bartender says gruffly.

Jinyu looks up at Dutch and starts to speak, his throat closing over. "There -", he coughs and swallows. " - there isn't any third option, is there?"

Niesa moves to the dart board and pulls one of the darts free. Idly fingering the dull point, she waits.

"No, son, sorry," Dutch says with a shrug, then points to the bar. "You bend over, flat on your back, on the counter. Open your mouth, close your eyes, and Tony'll pour you a big surprise."

Tony grins widely.

With a long, sad sigh, Jinyu complies. He more than spans the bar, his head canting back over the edge, hair hanging down. He screws his eyes shut tight.

Thudding footsteps as, presumably, Tony comes around the bar. He does something - you hear shuffling. Then footsteps again as he gets closer. He leans over, his thick musk-like aroma nearly overwhelming you. "Open wide, screwball."

Ever so reluctantly, Jinyu opens his mouth a crack, as if anticipating dental work.

"Wider," Tony urges with all the subtlety and nuance of a bulldozer.

Jinyu's lips move apart a little further. His breaths come shallow and fast now, and he has paled considerably. His fists are clenching and unclenching on the rough surface of the bar.

"Eh," Tony grunts. "It'll have to do." Something gurgles from a container, splashing on Jinyu's lips and flooding into his mouth, into his throat. Burning, but smooth...and not at all smelling like sewage or sinkwater. It tastes, to those familiar with it, like whiskey.

Reflexively, Jinyu spits violently as the imagined horror makes contact with the back of his throat. Then his eyes open wide, and he swallows rapidly.

Neidermeyer laughs, smacking a hand on the counter. "That shit gets me every fucking time." He shakes his head, taking the whiskey bottle from Tony and refilling his own glass.

Niesa's chuckle is dark and rich from the far corner. She tosses the dart back into it's board -hard-. "Damn it, are you through screwing around?"

Cautious, Jinyu raises his head up, uncertain if the ordeal is over. A rivulet of liquor flows into his left eye, and he screams in pain. "MAZA'S FETID STINKING GREASY TITS!" he bellows, collapsing backward behind the bar with a crash!

Neidermeyer smirks, raising his filled glass in salute to the shrieking Timonae. "I'll drink to those." And does so.

Niesa approaches the bar again, the flat of her hand coming down in a resounding *thwack* behind Jinyu's head. "You want to stay a while?"

Jinyu raises himself upright, and spits into the scum bucket. "Welcome to Tomin Kora," he mutters groggily, and shakes his head at Niesa's suggestion.

"You sure?" Tony asks. "Longo was in the john just now takin' a wicked nasty dump..."

Jinyu coughs, and spits again. He looks up, whiskey-stained hair plastered to his cheeks, and manages a half-smile. "It's like my father used to tell me - always save a little something for next time..."

Neidermeyer sighs and shakes his head. "Junior, my father used to tell *me* to quit while I'm ahead. Take that advice, or I'm gonna make you drink this shit for real." He thumps the canal water bucket. It sloshes some vile, worm-wriggly liquid onto the counter.

Jinyu wipes the smile off his face and nods several times in quick succession. He walks around toward the back of the bar toward Niesa.

Niesa crosses her arms and smiles up at Jinyu. "You ready to go?"

Jinyu picks hair off his face as he makes for the exit.

Neidermeyer walks toward the exit, accompanied by Tony and Longo, his usual no-neck thugs.

Tkagorth slams the door open in his usual manner and bellows, "FIREWATER!" at the bartender.

Neidermeyer glowers at the bellowing Zangali. He jerks a thumb at a dented bucket on the counter. "Fresh batch of canal water, just for you. Almost gave it to a dumbass Timonae puss. He declined."

Tkagorth glares at Neidermeyer, and grunts, "Stupid softskin, Tkagorth no like stupid canal water, no kickerer have. Firewater. Lots kick."

Neidermeyer shrugs. "Whatever stiffens your bristles." He steps out onto the Strand. The thugs eyeball Tkagorth, but don't waste too much time before striding out after their boss.