[Deleted]

The fan spun round rapidly in an attempt to shift the warm air from the bar. The unpleasant heat was lingering despite the sun which was gradually beginning to set over the skyline. The Drunken Bear had no air conditioning, something its bartender was bitterly regretting as both he and his customers sweltered. The bar was quieter than it would usually have been. There wasn't the same bustling atmosphere where people would usually be shouting to be heard one over the other. Instead, those present were more sedate. Even the alcohol wasn't quite enough to rouse them. They chatted among themselves and drank, perhaps as much to stay hydrated as to make themselves merry. One thing was for sure, Scott couldn't recall when he'd handed out quite so many glasses of water. He didn't charge for half of them, at least not from the regulars. Better they drink than pass-out.

Behind the bar, the young man continued to do his job. From time to time, he would let out a heavy sigh, having already been on his feet for some time now. He'd rummaged through the basement and his own cupboards to find some fans. He'd come up with two and a half, the half being an old machine which was made 80% out of rust, hummed loudly and he was sure spouted the odd spark. He kept it behind the bar, ensuring he was kept cool but that nobody else could possibly be harmed by the deathtrap. The overhead fans were also doing their work. Whilst it remained warm inside, it wasn't unbearable. The bartender was counting on the doors, which he'd exceptionally  left wide-open, to let in some cooler evening air once nighttime fell.

Wiping some sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, Scott placed the glass he had just finished cleaning back behind the counter. The night was still young, he knew this place would get busier as time went on. Just down the block, the local cinema would be kicking out a ton of movie-goers anytime now, many of whom would stop off for a drink to relieve themselves of the heat and to enjoy the rest of their evening.

---

@novamoon 350 words for @open

Made by Riley at THQ!

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

359

@novamoon

Sonnet only came to this bar when it was quiet. It wasn't like Alex's place, which was hidden away and enough of a dive that it was only populated by regulars. People who kept themselves to themselves. The Drunken Bear had plenty of that ilk, but it was also close to the movie theatre, restaurants and stores. That meant a much higher population of passers-by and casual customers than she would have liked.

Casual customers were more likely to try and hit on her, especially once the drink had started flowing. Eventually there would be someone who thought that the raw scar on her neck would make her an easy pickup. Usually that person ended up in a state that made them never try to pick up women in bars again. A broken finger did that. But often that resulted in her no longer being welcome in the bar. It was one reason why she kept moving to new bars. Alex's was the only one that had lasted for more than two years.

The Drunken Bear had lasted longer than most bars did though. And she'd been coming here, on and off, for six months. Almost always when it was quiet though, which was probably why it had lasted so long. She raised her hand as she entered the warm air of the bar, signalling to Scott, the bartender, that she needed a drink. Her usual, a bottle of whatever was the cheapest liquor they had.

Her ability meant that getting drunk took a lot longer than it did for any normal human. It made drinking expensive, although it had also granted her a measure of respect when her men had realised she could drink any three of them under the table without breaking a sweat.

She sat down at the bar, and spoke when the glass and bottle were placed in front of her. "Thanks. I'm glad to see the heat is keeping people out today."

Her voice was clipped and mechanical in the way that a second language often is. It was further compounded by the hoarse, quiet tone that her wounded throat had inflicted upon her.

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

Scott was in the process of putting some of his earnings away into the cash machine when he recognized a young woman who had come to the bar. He knew her face, she had been here a few times before. Enough for him to remember but not enough to make her what he might call a regular. That title belonged to those who came here at least three times a week. Then there were the "super-regulars", people whom he couldn't remember not being sat around one of the tables or at the bar. He was convinced that those men would live and die in this place, even if he left. They would be coming to this place to the end of their days. Some of them had been here when his grandfather was a young man doing the exact same job as he was now.

He picked up on her signal and gave the woman a brief nod, letting her know that he had seen her and would tend to her request. She'd been here enough times for him to know what she wanted when it came to booze. Curiously, the bartender noted that she could down large quantities of liquor with little effect on her sobriety, at least not on the outside (he didn't want to even think about the damage the stuff was doing to her liver). This apparently normal young woman could drink under the table some of his most hardened veterans who had been on the drink since before it was even legal for them to indulge. Not that he was complaining. Someone who drank a lot and failed to become rowdy was in many ways the ideal client. All of the financial advantages with none of the unpleasant mess which tended to come along with it.

Reaching out to the counter behind him, Scott took a bottle of vodka down. It was strong, not entirely unpleasant (although still something he suspected would do a good job at stripping paint) but most importantly cheap. A favorite for those who valued alcohol more than they did the drink itself. He placed it along with a glass in front of her. When she spoke, her tone was a bit off. If it was language, Scott barely noticed. He wasn't about to question her as to just what caused it. He was used to it and wasn't the kind of man to inquire about such things. "Good for some. Less so for others." He replied glancing around the room at the crowds. "It should cool down once the sun's set." 

---

@novamoon  420 words for @open

Made by Riley at THQ!

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

380

@novamoon

The barman clearly saw her as she entered, returning her gesture with a nod of his own before continuing with the task he was already engaged in. The register clicked as he shut the drawer, though she ignored the sound.

She glanced about her, seeing a few faces that she recognised from previous visits, and realising that these were likely people for whom the bar was a second home, or a first one. They had skin of the same kind of texture and age as the old bartop at which she sat, perched upon one of the high barstools. She didn't mind the stools as much as she might have. People often assumed that short people were sensitive about their height, Sonnet had long since moved past that concern and kept her offence for people's concerns about her gender instead. It was an unwise man who made assumptions about the diminutive Yakuza Lieutenant based on her sex.

She took the glass and bottle that was presented to her, instantly prying the lid from the bottle and pouring the alcohol into the tumbler. She took a gulp, grimaced. The vodka was strong, and might have looked forward to a life as a paint stripper had it not been purchased by her. Still, it was exactly the kind of drink she preferred, with enough of a kick in it to at least give her a buzz before she was completely through the bottle. Although it still might not be much of one at that. It was why most bartenders tolerated her presence long past they might tolerate others. Even cheap alcohol gets expensive when it's three bottles of the stuff.

She shrugged at his response. "I guess, bars are always better when there are less tourists."

Not that there would be much in the way of tourists here, they usually tended towards the classier bars, and in the Yakuza part of town, were specifically funnelled to Yakuza owned properties. Especially if they were Japanese. Strangely for a criminal organisation, the Yamaguchi-Gumi made an awful lot of money from tourism in New York City.

"Maybe you'll have some more business then. People are more willing to make fools of themselves when they feel like the world can't see them."

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

Scott was cautious. He didn't want to make the newcomer feel crowded, from what little he had seen of her, he got the feeling that she wouldn't appreciate someone hanging around her too much. She seemed like the sort who would prefer to be given some space. As such, he occupied himself with continuing to clean a series of glasses, carefully drying them before rearranging them. He knew that the clientele for the most part didn't give two hoots about how clean or dirty the glasses were, so long as there was liquor, they would be content. His grandfather however had always been meticulous and so, the current bartender continued the tradition.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the newcomer. His attention would drift to her and then back around the room, not settling on anyone in particular but none-the-less running around, ensuring that he kept tabs on how everyone was doing. Another part of his job was to ensure that nobody found themselves sitting around without a drink. Those people, experience had taught him, would eventually get bored of conversation and call it a night. Given his profession, that wasn't in his interests. If nothing else, many of those who came here wanted to be looked after. Not necessarily pampered but at least have someone waiting on them as opposed to them having to follow another's orders as almost all of their jobs required.

The woman spoke to him, attracting his attention once more. He was impressed that she could handle that paint stripper of a drink. It must have burned at the back of her throat. He knew it did as some of his other customers had been so polite as to inform him of that much after generally attempting to spit the stuff back out. "Caustic soda" one of them had called the stuff. He leaned back against the counter for a moment before finally replying to her statement: "We don't get many of those around here.". This part of town was decidedly unremarkable. Too far away from anything of even remote interest for people to be just passing-by and too dodgy for even the most intrepid of holiday makers to dare rent a place. There had been the odd exception but he tended to get the feeling that those individuals were lost more than anything else and just a little too nervous or too proud to admit as much. 

"Seems to me people will just about make a fool of themselves over anything these days." He noted. Scott barely even used the internet but the tales he had heard allowed him to believe that it was largely full of garbage. People in real life, he found, weren't necessarily any better. He could have told stories and tales of some of the insane things he had witnessed or others had told him. With someone he was more familiar with, he might have. This young woman however he scarcely knew and he doubted that she would be the type to care an awful lot. 

---

@novamoon ;500 words for @open

Made by Riley at THQ!

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

333

@novamoon

She chuckled, "Good."

The bottle was lifted, glass clinked against glass, and the bottle was lowered again, the glass once again full of the clear liquid. She lifted it to her lips, tipping a little of the vodka back. She didn't grimace this time, but the alcohol hadn't gotten any better with time or quantity. She wondered just how drunk she'd have to be in order for the vodka to taste good. A lot drunker than this at least.

She looked up at the barman once more as he spoke again. "You can say that again. People dressing up in stupid costumes and fighting crime. It's like the whole world has gone mad."

Heroes were a common sight now in New York City, and across the country, men and women with abilities who wore costumes and fought crime. It was hard to turn on a television without seeing an advertisement of some product or other endorsed by one of them. They'd become the new celebrities, men and women that people looked up to, idolised even. She'd seen schoolkids carrying backpacks with Paladin emblazoned on them, tourists clustered around stands selling Celerity merchandise. Things hadn't changed that much in truth. Those people and the products they bought would have existed anyway, just in a different form. It was just so far removed from how life had been.

The Yakuza had certainly had a more trying time in adapting to the new system. Heroes were virtually impossible to bribe, and the only way to get one of them off your tracks was to make sure the cops never let them near your tracks in the first place. No doubt that would change, idealists would be replaced by realists, and as more Heroes entered the system the sponsorships would become harder to acquire, letting greed seek another source. The Yamaguchi-Gumi would find a way, although Sonnet couldn't explain why that didn't make her feel any better.

"I'm just glad it's not me in those stupid outfits."

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

Scott allowed a little grunt of amusement to escape his lips as the woman expressed her relief in there being few tourists around. Not one for busy crowds this one it would seem – outside of bars of course – he could understand. From time to time, he might travel to Manhattan (his grandmother’s idea of a nice day out). He loathed it, between the hustle and bustle of the businessmen in their suits all fighting to bet money on the next big thing, losing millions as they went. Then there were the tourists, loud, noisy and stupid, as he saw them. It was no wonder that pickpocketing was such a problem… In truth, whilst he wouldn’t have minded the extra customers in themselves, the fact that the Drunken Bear was hardly a major tourist destination was something of a relief.

The young man could only agree with her statement about superheroes. He watched them with a disinterested but weary eye. The more of them that made a show of themselves the better in some ways. If they were a common occurrence then people would slowly get used to them. He dared to hope that they would become bored eventually and look elsewhere for wonder and entertainment. It would finally allow the rest of them, the ones fond of their regular lives, to relax a little and not worry about what one of these idiots might do in the meantime. Until then, he could look forwards to only more concerned glances at the television any time “superpowers” were mentioned. Oh how he longed to be a lonely freak, unique as he had believed himself to be with only the families who knew of him. Things had seemed simpler back then. “That’ll all end in tears.” He muttered under his breath, putting the glass he had just finished cleaning down a little harder than usual on the work surface.

He chucked the cloth he had been using back over a rail, turning around to contemplate his customers once more. They all seemed to be alright and didn’t need his intervention. It allowed him to pay the young woman some more attention, knowing that it wasn’t costing any of his other clients anything. Scott wasn’t the most talkative of people but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t chat if necessary and this stranger was just about interesting enough to captivate at least some of his attention which was so rarely given. “Yeah… Anyone who thinks tights and a cape looks good on them need to be locked up someplace with nice padded walls.”

He couldn’t help but notice the way that the young woman managed to down the drink. It made him uncertain. Usually, so long as they were harmless, he didn’t care how much or how drunk his clients ended up, so long as they could still put money in his pocket. Still, given just what she was helping herself to, he remained cautious. It would be easy to drink it all quickly before it’s effects kicked in and regret it further down the line. “I know it’s not my place but be careful there.” He masked the worry with a slight smile, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That stuff packs a punch.”

---

@novamoon 542 words for @open

Made by Riley at THQ!

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

266

@novamoon

"Ha, you're right."

She thought of Tank, the only Hero she'd had any real contact with beyond brief and furious combat. She had met Heroes before him, and put one of them in the hospital, but he'd beaten her, and then spared her life. She knew he wasn't the kind to do that normally, so it had left her with a grudging respect, and an even more grudging debt owed to him. He wasn't the type to dress up in tights and a cape, not like Paladin or Titania.

"So damn right."

It was pity that those padded walls would absolutely fail to hold any of the metahumans that had been accepted for the Hero Program. They certainly would have failed to hold Sonnet. Perhaps that would have made business too easy. Although Sonnet had found that she tired of business all too easily at the minute. Almost as if the Hero had some effect on her.

She glanced down at the glass in front of her at his warning, then downed the recently refilled drink out of spite. In truth the drink was powerful enough to give all but the most hardened of drinkers pause, and Sonnet hardly fit the bill. The barman could hardly know that she was a metahuman, and beyond that, how many metahumans were offered an increased resistance to alcohol as a result of their ability? It couldn't be that many.

"Yeah, you wish."

She refilled her glass, before beginning to drink it at her usual, slower, pace. "This stuff is strong, but it take a lot to put me out."

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

O.O.C.: Sorry for the delay. I have serious internet problems that won't be being fixed until mid-September at the earliest. Sorry again...

It was nice to meet someone who shared his opinions. Not everyone did. He knew there were voices out there who disapproved of metahumans in general. Thanks to some clever PR work, many now worshiped the morons. He'd initially hoped that the hype would die down after a couple of months but unfortunately it would seem that much like film stars and pop icons, they were around to stay. As a metahuman in hiding, he could only pray that they managed to keep their heads down low enough so as to not end up making themselves a nuisance. It was a matter he didn't care to think about excessively. No sense in worrying about something which might never come to pass.

His words might seem harsh to some but apparently not to the woman he was busy talking to. Reassuring although it also served to confirm his belief that not everyone was so fond of metas. If this woman was as vocal as he was about her thoughts on the subject (assuming that she wasn't simply humoring him) then  it meant that perhaps he wasn't being as paranoid as he sometimes feared he was. "Shame none of them would stay there." Maybe that was why the governments weren't more forceful where those with superpowers were concerned. A prison cell would be little more than a joke if anyone tried to lock him in. After all, how could you imprison a man who can lock through walls? He wouldn't be the only one. Many others would laugh if put behind bars and be walking free mere moments afterwards.

His gaze rested wearily on the vodka. He wasn't going to insist. "You're tougher than I am. I'd be on the floor by now if I'd had half what you have." An exaggeration in all likelihood but not something that he wanted to put to the test.

---

@novamoon 315 words for @open

Made by Riley at THQ!

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

337

@novamoon

Sonnet shook her empty glass in disagreement. "No, didn't you hear the rumours? They've built some big specialised prison. Ready for some super powered maniac to get locked up in. I don't know how they've gotten around the whole super powers thing though. Some people might be easy to lock up. Others? Not so much."

She carefully refrained that she was one of those others. Short of keeping her permanently starved or unconscious, it was impossible to keep Sonnet in one place if she didn't want to be there. At least as far as she was aware, maybe there was some secret solution to imprison her, and she just hadn't worked it out yet.

Glancing at the empty glass, and the now more than half empty bottle, Sonnet shrugged. It wouldn't be the first time someone had commented on her drinking. Usually it was to doubt how much she could really put away, but this comment was much closer to admiration than she was otherwise used to. "I'm tougher than most people."

It was true, some quirk of her ability made it very difficult to get drunk, anything short of hard liquor wouldn't even make a dent. It made drinking very expensive, especially when the only thing that would make a difference tended to be bottles of vodka or whiskey, and more than one bottle at that. Still, it wasn't as if she couldn't afford it, her position in the Yakuza was a lucrative one, and she could always rely on drinks from one of their establishments when she had to lay low due to the trouble she tended to attract in bars. Most of the patrons in the Yakuza bars knew better than to mess with her, and her men kept the tourists away from her. It meant less trouble overall, Sonnet didn't take kindly to having her drinking interrupted, least of all by drunken men that thought they had a chance with her.

"Maybe I'll challenge you to a contest for free drinks one day."

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

As it happened, Scott had heard some vague whispers of a new prison. He was certain that it was something that must have been covered in more detail somewhere, either by official news sources or one lot of crackpot conspiracy theorists or another. What the bartender wasn't about to do was do any excessive research into the subject. Whilst not entirely paranoid, he didn't want others, be it the government or simply people around him, noticing that he was taking an interest and wondering just why. If he'd made it as far as he had, it was because he knew how to keep himself beyond suspicion. That meant ignoring all things super as much as was possible. A fine line needed to be drawn however. If he didn't care at all then that in itself could be conceived as bizarre.

So, the young man raised a brow quizzically at the woman's statement. "I'd heard something..." He conceded. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of his regulars signal him: more of the usual. Years of working behind the bar had made him more than  capable of doing two things at once. In a series of quick and well-rehearsed motions, he reached behind him and grabbed a glass. "It'd have to be one hell of a jail. I mean, these guys are crazy, some of them. What would it take to keep one locked up? Let alone several." 

Who could keep a man like himself who could walk through walls behind bars? The notion that somebody even thought they might be able to was scary for all sorts of reasons.

She suggested a challenge between herself and him. Strangely the notion caused him to chuckle slightly, as he continued to fill the glass with beer. "Yeah..." Taking a few steps away from the where he had been standing, he handed the beverage over to the customer, making a quick mental note of who it was and adding it to their tab. Scott was back with the woman a moment later. "It'll have to be some time I'm not working. I'd hate to think what would happen to this place if the bartender was paralytic on the floor. It'd be anarchy." A joke but not entirely. He was under no allusions as to his own drinking capacity. If she was able to drink this stuff and still be making sense, then she must have had one power station of a liver.

---

@scott Flynn 410 words for @open

Made by Riley at THQ!

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

307

@novamoon

"Maybe it's not even a proper prison, maybe they just have a really scary metahuman that no one dares cross? Why would you even try to escape if you're too scared of the warden?"

Little did Sonnet know that she'd accidentally hit on exactly how the Families had kept everyone in line for centuries, everyone was too afraid of the Council to dare arguing with them. She'd only developed her abilities after the Event, and had never run the risk of pissing them off in the first place. Perhaps Scott knew a lot more about the capabilities of metahumans than she did. She hadn't met anyone much more powerful than she was after all, albeit with hugely differing abilities.

She shrugged as he declined her joking suggestion of a challenge. "Might be anarchy, but I wouldn't be complaining about the free drinks. I might even end up paralytic next to you if I got enough." Although that hadn't happened in a long time, it had taken her several hours of solid drinking with minimal interruption, and it had cost her a fortune. Usually she was asked to leave before she truly drank herself into unconsciousness. Something about brutally assaulting the men trying to hit on her did that. Her temper was short as it was, and drinking did nothing for the length of her fuse.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Maybe we'll save that challenge till next time, after all, I've already paid for this one." She nudged the now surprisingly empty bottle of vodka with her glass, the dregs sloshing around at the bottom of the container. "Speaking of." She produced another fifty dollar bill from her pocket and slapped it down on the bar. "Get yourself one too, but maybe not as strong as mine, since you're going to be boring and stay sober."

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄