<div align="center"><strong>~&lt;=&gt;~ Kiran Reed (yes, ladies, he's single) <del>   </del> Savoring the taste of the local watering hole's last bottle of liquid fire bright and early. A real man can drink vodka any time, any place, and with anyone (RAWR~! ;)) <del>   </del> dressed (http://www.yeshairstyles.com/wp-content/gallery/sam-worthington/sam-worthington-hairstyle-from-terminator-salvation.jpg) sharply (http://www.dabblestone.com/bio_files/Sam%20Worthington%20poster.jpg), as always ~&lt;=&gt;~</strong></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://img210.imageshack.us/img210/9981/bbaddff0ac585f7cae03a3b.jpg)</div><br/><strong>"Da bian hua..."</strong>Kiran Reed muttered to himself while absentmindedly poking the half clean shot glass resting atop the rough wooden surface of the battered and bruised barcounter. It looked worse for wear, much like pretty much everything else inside the local watering hole in this backwater town on Albion's moon, Avalon. The transparent liquid inside swayed back and forth lightly as its container was pushed around like the weak kid at grade school. But a few inches away from it stood the last bottle of vodka the run down watering hole had to offer<del>   </del>hell, it wouldn't be too much of a gamble to say it might very well be the last bottle in the whole town. Unlike what he had thought, after haulin' a big load of supplies here during his last job on a cargo ship called the "Big Johnson"<del>   </del><em>very funny</em>, captain Anderson<del>   </del>he'd expected this town to be some sort of major trading center, so he laid off here, thinking he'd enjoy spending his earned coin a bit. Unfortunately the BJ had already jetted off back into the black before Kiran had time to even wipe as much as one ass cheek. The hell had they been in such a hurry for?<strong>"That be gratitude for ya... Those gou cao de wang ba dan! Ta ma de! I even fixed them noisy fans they'd be whinin' to me about all the time!"</strong><br/><br/>Raising the glass to his lips, he easily swallowed the remaining fingertip of vodka as if it were water. To be honest, it wasn't that strong or tasty. But hey, what else there? Nothing, exactly. Hell, to make things worse, he had to listen as a group of Alliance soldiers were making a ruckus over at one of the tables, singing and shouting loudly as they spilled their booze in drunken bliss while enjoying their shore leave. The staff didn't seem like they were going to say anything about it any time soon; the barman looked the other way like his nose was bleeding, while the guard just outside seemed content with only tossing some annoyed glances towards the group, which they'd never see for sure. Wasn't really Kiran's place to judge though, as he wasn't going to do anything about it either. Not yet, anyway.<br/><br/>Had it been ten years ago, he'd be in the middle of those rowdy fellows for sure, drinking the day away. But too much has happened, his trust and respect for the Alliance all but wiped away like an oil stain, leaving only a dirty smear. The face of his old captain, stuck aboard the engineless half of the "Good Morale" still haunted him to this very day. It had been the face of a good man accepting his death, a forced smile on lips to encourage him to do his best and save himself. Kiran felt ashamed everytime he remembered that smile. That man had been like a brother to him. The least he could've done was<em>try</em>! Kiran was mad at himself, for sure, but the Alliance hadn't proved themselves as an honourable bunch either after the whole mess. Not sending out anyone to retrieve the bodies of the brave men and woman who had given their lives so that they could be given a proper burial. Instead there were only empty caskets, frozen corpses forever adrift in the black. Not a pleasent ending by any means.<br/><br/>His hand reached forward, elbow bumping against the bar counter's surface lightly, gripping the glass bottle firmly before raising the opening to his lips.<strong>"Whoa, easy does it there, pal!"</strong>the bartender said when he noticed how Kiran began taking large gulps of the vodka, leaving the bottle with more than a third of its contents drained by the time it was set down onto the wooden counter with a small bang, causing a few heads to turn. He ignored them though. The twenty-nine year old man gasped in satisfaction uttering,<strong>"Gan bei!"</strong>as the warm, fuzzy feeling finally began tickling his senses lightly. It was far from an actual state of drunkenness, but it was a start. Shifting in his seat a bit, Kiran's heel brushed against the duffelbag leaning against his stool. It was the only thing he had with him. Inside were the things he needed the most, like a change of clothes, money, and his toolkit. He made sure to keep it nearby. Can't have some shifty fellow with loose hands make off with it, now could he? What's a mechanic without his tools, after all?<br/><br/><hr/><br/><em>Da bian hua = Great<br/>gou cao de = Dog-fucking<br/>wang ba dan = Son of a bitch; here meant as plural<br/>Gan bei = Bottoms up/Cheers<br/>Ta ma de = Fuck</em>