Volume VI: And Introducing Harley Morrow As - Herself

9. Familiar Territory

        I was 16 when this started.

        The introductions I’ve already made aren’t very helpful along the way. But they were written before...this, from the mind of a pure 16-year-old freak. Before all this. They were my honest opinions when I had them. Imagine that - I used to have a mind of my very own.

        Mr. Krowley is my uncle. I talk about him as if he’s someone else because it’s just easier that way. Max is more of a role model. My uncle...he drinks a lot but means well. He’s not completely impossible to deal with. Family’s family. Until times changed.

        And I got a new family.

        Sit back. This might take awhile. To explain two years anyway.

        Two years. The transitional period between 16 and 18 - when you decide exactly who and what you are. Or the choice is thrust upon you.

        The only thing constant is change.

        Summer job at the bar, dealing with the regulars, the typical mob. Every so often, the interesting sort came around. The freaks, the dark brooding forms. My favorites were Layne and Serkis. They were great, always nice to me, making idle conversation. Serkis more-so, but Layne warmed up eventually.

        Time. Patience. Effort.

        The key to dealing with anybody.

        My uncle came and went. He left other people in charge, depending heavily on the other employees. Not many stayed long - there was just too much madness sometimes. There were a few good ones. My favorite bartender was Pandora. She was 18 then. She had connections of some kind, her father was close with my uncle - hence she had a job. A slightly illegal job, but what wasn’t slightly illegal about the place? Max, our resident cop, kept us legit as far as the city was concerned.

        I couldn’t call it corruption.

        Business is business.

        Pandora was hired before I was; she seemed to belong there. She was the good kid, the shining angel amidst the shadowy depths. The bartender - and she was one of the most responsible ones around. She looked out for me, warning how close was too close. There was something more to her, hidden deep down. Pain flashing in her eyes. And there was always that glare of hers - reserved for Layne and Serkis.

        Or maybe only Serkis. Maybe.

        Let’s do this again in slow motion -

        Myself.

        Art - who would later give himself a new name. He spent more time in the bar since Layne brought Serkis.

        Max, our resident cop. Routine, bent rules just so.

        His son – Layne, and his amazing girl - Serkis.

        My uncle - Mr. Edward Krowley. Current owner and primary operator of the Drowning Raven - the bar.

        Pandora - our primary bartender and my uncle’s right hand girl.

        That’s almost everybody. But for the record, a few names you’ll hear along the way, for reference:

        Draven Riddle - Pandora’s father.

        Doyle Merrick - retired street boss.

        And there was Requiem; the outsider. Serkis’ fellow drifter of sorts.