The head nurse spoke up / Said "leave this one alone."
WHO: Whichever members of the Dependables want in.
WHERE: Bar next to the Atatla Hotel, Mexico.
WHEN: Let’s say Saturday afternoon.
WARNINGS: Violence. Language. Wanton misuse of furniture.
SUMMARY: BAR FIGHT.
FORMAT: For the sake of expediency, the log will be split into two threads: one for playing out the build-up to the first punch thrown, the other for skipping straight to the bottle-smashing. The format is open; split into separate threads for each part however you see fit.
The bar next to the hotel seems to be doing better business than most places in town, especially with so many thirsty gangsters in the area. Not all the meeting guests are content to stay around the resort, and many can be seen cruising about the town, looking for trouble. A good dozen or more unpleasant-looking men with various signs of criminal affiliation- tattoos, chains, symbols, scars- are seated throughout the room at wooden tables, drinking and laughing. Despite the extra business, the jowly middle-aged bartender looks frightened. He nervously wipes the counter clean over and over in between serving shots of cheap tequila. There’s an aged, battered jukebox in the corner, playing ‘Bad to the Bone.’
Sitting at a corner table with members of the team, Jack forces a smile, keeps his eyes to himself, and drinks slowly. He doesn’t like the feel of this situation. The atmosphere in the bar is restless; these crooks are wound up from their flight in and the tensions of the initial meetings and are looking for a release. He’s starting to wonder whether heading out to the bar was the right play in order to keep up the appearance of an innocent group of tourists.
The bar door slams open, announcing trouble. The customers all look up to see the newcomers, then look down quickly when they recognize them. Six men in heavy boots, gleaming sunglasses, and suspiciously nice clothes. Enforcers, with rings shining on their hands- the better to punch with. They smile with teeth as they approach the bar.
“Hello, Pedro. How’s business.”
“Good, good, business is good.” The bartender’s knuckles are white around the glass he’s cleaning.
“Oh, that’s good. Then you’re ready to pay us, aren’t you?”
“I- I paid you a few days ago, I’m all paid- Hey, ask Joaquin, I gave him the money myself!”
There’s the sound of knuckles cracking. Bit by bit, the conversation in the room is dying out as heads turn to watch the bar. “Joaquin... is my cousin. And he appreciates your gift. But you don’t pay my cousin to stay safe around here, Pedro. You pay me.” The lead enforcer raises his sunglasses so he can look the bartender in the eye as he leans forward over the countertop. Suddenly his hand shoots out and grabs Pedro’s shirt, hauling him forward. “Now.”
Jack grits his teeth and tries to keep his eyes averted. The only good thing about this situation is that nobody is armed. Think of the mission, he tells himself. Think of your cover, think of the objective, stay focused. But deep down, he already knows it’s useless. In a team meant to be capable of anything, doing nothing is going to be something that they just can’t do.
WHERE: Bar next to the Atatla Hotel, Mexico.
WHEN: Let’s say Saturday afternoon.
WARNINGS: Violence. Language. Wanton misuse of furniture.
SUMMARY: BAR FIGHT.
FORMAT: For the sake of expediency, the log will be split into two threads: one for playing out the build-up to the first punch thrown, the other for skipping straight to the bottle-smashing. The format is open; split into separate threads for each part however you see fit.
The bar next to the hotel seems to be doing better business than most places in town, especially with so many thirsty gangsters in the area. Not all the meeting guests are content to stay around the resort, and many can be seen cruising about the town, looking for trouble. A good dozen or more unpleasant-looking men with various signs of criminal affiliation- tattoos, chains, symbols, scars- are seated throughout the room at wooden tables, drinking and laughing. Despite the extra business, the jowly middle-aged bartender looks frightened. He nervously wipes the counter clean over and over in between serving shots of cheap tequila. There’s an aged, battered jukebox in the corner, playing ‘Bad to the Bone.’
Sitting at a corner table with members of the team, Jack forces a smile, keeps his eyes to himself, and drinks slowly. He doesn’t like the feel of this situation. The atmosphere in the bar is restless; these crooks are wound up from their flight in and the tensions of the initial meetings and are looking for a release. He’s starting to wonder whether heading out to the bar was the right play in order to keep up the appearance of an innocent group of tourists.
The bar door slams open, announcing trouble. The customers all look up to see the newcomers, then look down quickly when they recognize them. Six men in heavy boots, gleaming sunglasses, and suspiciously nice clothes. Enforcers, with rings shining on their hands- the better to punch with. They smile with teeth as they approach the bar.
“Hello, Pedro. How’s business.”
“Good, good, business is good.” The bartender’s knuckles are white around the glass he’s cleaning.
“Oh, that’s good. Then you’re ready to pay us, aren’t you?”
“I- I paid you a few days ago, I’m all paid- Hey, ask Joaquin, I gave him the money myself!”
There’s the sound of knuckles cracking. Bit by bit, the conversation in the room is dying out as heads turn to watch the bar. “Joaquin... is my cousin. And he appreciates your gift. But you don’t pay my cousin to stay safe around here, Pedro. You pay me.” The lead enforcer raises his sunglasses so he can look the bartender in the eye as he leans forward over the countertop. Suddenly his hand shoots out and grabs Pedro’s shirt, hauling him forward. “Now.”
Jack grits his teeth and tries to keep his eyes averted. The only good thing about this situation is that nobody is armed. Think of the mission, he tells himself. Think of your cover, think of the objective, stay focused. But deep down, he already knows it’s useless. In a team meant to be capable of anything, doing nothing is going to be something that they just can’t do.