Inquisitors; Rulers Of Past

The Bar

The young man stumbled to the floor on opening the door, dropping the long spear that he held. He groaned as he got back on his feet, smiling at the shy lady that stood in front of her door. She shook her head and walked away. The young man didn't care. He took the spear from the ground and gently closed the door, placing the spear on the kitchen counter. He then proceeded to remove his blood stained clothes, revealing a wound on his thigh. Limping towards the small cabinet, he pulled out a small sowing kit and, sitting on the floor, began to painfully stitch the wound. After a moment of groaning, he was done. He headed for the shower and let the water flow, starting from his red curly hair to his toes, washing away all dirt and the immiscible mixture of red and black blood- the black blood wasn't his, obviously.

After the satisfying shower, he put on a plain white shirt and a black baggy pants and slumped onto his bed, letting out a huge sigh.

Barry O'Neil stared at the ceiling, a bland expression drawn on his face. Everything and nothing at all run through his head. He sat up and looked round the room, his eyes subconsciously resting on the spear. Dark memories filled his mind, memories of rivers of human blood flowing, ripped aand torn flesh of old time comrades, his death...Barry shook his head. Just the right mood for a beer.

Barry was in his early twenties, with deep blue eyes and red hair that made him utterly attractive. He had a permanent short smile always on his face, save the times when despair crept up on him. He headed straight for the counter top and ordered a beer, the usual. The silent bartender nodded. It was an everyday routine.

After a good long thirty minutes of just sitting there sipping at his beer, the bartender placed a fairly expensive glass of wine in front of him. Barry looked up at the bartender.

"Um... Paul, I appreciate the offer but I can barely afford the rent right now."

"Oh, I'm aware," Paul said, "but the lady over there insisted."

Barry smiled. "She pretty?"

Paul smiled back, "Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, Barry."

Barry turned to face a true beauty, black long curly hair with brown eyes. She had an elegant structure which was beautifully displayed in the dark green sparkly dress she wore. She was the kind of lady that made heads turn, which was being done even now. A guy attempted to try his luck but was cruelly rejected in a very polite manner-nothing but a wave of her hand. She smiled at Barry, almost making the latter fall for her.

"I feel embarrassed talking to the lady who bought me a fine drink like this." Barry said when the lady reached the counter

The lady smiled and ordered the same. "You shouldn't be," she said, "a man needs a reward after a hard days work."

"Girl, I hardly work you know."

The bartender smirked. Barry eyed him briefly, but the lady took no notice.

"Work?" She said as she sat down on the stool next to him, "I'm pretty sure you do."

"Then you must have gotten the wrong guy," Barry gulped down the glass of wine."

"It's okay, everyone hates the work they do. I do as well"

"Well, some of us don't have jobs."

The lady grinned, "Oh do you, Barry O'Neil."

Barry closed his eyes. He could see the peaceful evening slowly running off, about to be replaced by a boat of nostalgia and dread. He looked at the woman, still pretending to be oblivious.

"I'm sorry, who?" He said with a smile.

The lady smiled at him, "Hmm... must be a mistake. I'm sure I had the right guy."

"Well, people look like people"

"Yeah, they sure do."

She stared at him long and hard, deep into his deep blue eyes. He stared back at hers, unwavering. She was the first to look away. "Well then, let's drink then shall we?"

"Yeah," Barry said, "Lets."

The woman left not long after, leaving Barry alone in the bar.

"Another chance wasted." Paul said.

"Yeah, whatever." Barry said, "Now all the guys are gonna laugh at me 'cause I got the chance and I wasted it."

"You don't say,"

"Shut up, Paul."

"You know, it's really funny how these random agencies are popping up around inquisitors. Hoping to try their luck."

"Yeah. Well, thank goodness I'm not one..."

"...not to them, Barry."

Barry looked at Paul and sighed. "So I kill Daemon once or twice. What's the big deal?"

"Don't ask me, I'm just a bartender. Now hurry along, Barry, my bed awaits."

Barry stood up from the counter. "Y'know you've gotta be the only bar that closes at 12 am."

Paul stared at him for a while and sighed. "So says the guy who comes at 12am."

Barry smiled. He paid for his drink and left the bar.