South East Asia - Namsak: 14:43
The town of Namsak, a relatively isolated settlement, in spite of its location, was very much alive. It's main purpose was commercial, as one could witness by simply glancing upon the hundred or so merchants littered around the market place selling their wares. The atmosphere was ambient and jovial, with sellers vehemently crying out reasons for consumers to purchase their goods over competitors from around the world. During the day, these streets were almost always filled with locals from around the settlement, who were busy on the hunt for a bargain.
The buildings and infrastructure of the town didn't exactly make Namsak appear a technological metropolis by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, Namsak was most probably considered heavily backward by western travellers. Although though such misconceptions were made though the naivety of tourists perusing travel agents, one fact was painfully clear about Namsak - that it had a teeming criminal underbelly. Robberies and burglaries were frequent, with occasional rapes and murders. The local police were woefully undermanned to tackle such a vast criminal economy, whilst many honest locals whispered breaths of "corruption" or "convenience" whenever crimes were left unpunished or unsolved. Such glaring faults didn't make Namsak the first place a middle-class family of four would chose for their holiday; nor would it have been the choice for any tourist - even charity workers gave Namsak a wide berth.
"So this is Namsak huh? What a trashcan." One man muttered to himself as he witnessed a shopkeeper dive at a bunch of vagabonds stealing from his stall. He could have helped, but instead, just turned around and casually watched, as many others did. This was clearly an all too frequent occurrence.
"Please help me! Can anyone help stop them! My family will starve if they get away!" The unfortunate vendor cried in a mixture of terror and frustration. This plea was to no avail, as the miscreants escaped into the back alleys, masterfully weaving through any bystanders.
"What seems to be the problem here?" A deep voice inquired from the crowd. The spectators swiftly parted to reveal a grossly overweight man accompanied by two tall, imposing men wearing uniforms.
The recently ruined merchant fell to his knees and pitifully begged the rotund man to pursue the criminals who had stolen his wares. Despite such a heartfelt cry, the fat abomination merely looked on unsympathetically, scathingly inquiring about the identity of the pillagers.
"It was Dao's men! They were staring at my stall the other day and wanted my merchandise! There are witnesses!" The desperate merchant spluttered.
"Witnesses you say?"
"Y-yes! Yes of course! All of these people…"
Before the broken seller could finish his sentence, the rotund policeman turned to face the spectators of the crime, shoved his podgy fist in the air, and then shouted in a bellowing voice: "Did any of you see any illegal acts of robbery here?" His disgusting face was distorted into a frown, as if to dare any onlookers to come forward.
As the brute had expected, the crowd remained silent while some walked away, averting their eyes. The disdainful observer was among those that remained. He too stayed silent, assessing the situation and thinking of its implications. After all, he had just arrived, and needed to understand the local environment if he wanted to enjoy a relatively quiet life. It was obvious that criminals were running the police force. Murmurs of corruption were clearly well based, but were all too silent. It seemed this had been happening for a long time.
"This fat clown with a pug-nose and putrid face is the image of Namsak's law enforcement? Fitting if you ask me." The cynical onlooker muttered, to the amusement of those close to him.
"Did I hear someone giggle?" Growled the pyramid shaped officer. The timid spectators moved aside to reveal a man wearing a worn, umber-brown duster coat which brushed the ground and was buttoned up at the top, partially covering his face. His messy, medium length hair was of a similar colour to his coat.
"Well lookie here boys, a guy who thinks he's John Wayne!" Gleefully jeered the tubby chief, accompanied latter by his two oafish colleagues, who forced out hearty laughs. The three then stared menacingly at the calm cynic, who reciprocated by glaring back with his pale blue eyes, which appeared to critically observe and evaluate the situation.
"Gonna stay silent for long?" One of the taller policemen joked.
"Well…" The Crowd gasped, as the unknown traveller spoke up - almost with an air of anticipation - would he be foolish enough to confront the Namsak Police?
"Well what?" The irritated fat man shouted.
"Well… I was just wondering…"
"Speak up!"
"…was just wondering… where the nearest bar was."
The policemen stood collectively silent, dumbstruck with this response.
"Since the three of you appear to be fine officers, could you help a newcomer to these parts and kindly direct me to the nearest inn, tavern, or whatever you call it around here?"
"B-bullshit! You didn't say that! Why were all these people laughing?" The incredulous officer responded.
"Hmm, they musta thought it was a bad joke…" The newcomer said in a dead-pan tone.
"You think you're funny?"
"No, I know I'm thirsty for a drink… and not the soft kind either."
"We don't have time answering such a question. I should arrest you for interrupting police business!"
"…so you don't know where the nearest drink is…" The rugged man said with disappointment. "Oh well, hope you catch those criminals. Goodbye."
Before the corrupt brigade could chase him after such a comment, he disappeared into the stream of people wandering around the marketplace.
That wasn't the wisest thing to have said. His card was now marked by that tub of lard and his department. The daring cynic sighed to himself. He really should have helped that poor merchant, but had no feeling of regret for not doing so. Instead he felt content with making a snide remark and slipping away into the shadows. Of course, that's what must be done for a quiet life - he had made the correct choice - pragmatically speaking. There was only so much one man could do, and he had done more than most in his lifetime….
The day pressed on, and without getting involved in trouble, this cynical traveller finally arrived at the only bar which looked passable in this so called trashcan. The building was old and had clearly seen its fair share of violence. Bullet marks scarred the outside walls and many tiles from the roof were missing - a sign that the owner thought little good would come of maintenance - probably a good decision. The inn was given the glorious name of 'The Castle', and was the best shot at a bar the weary traveller had seen in Namsak.
As he walked up to the bar and beckoned the barman over to serve him, he overheard a few patrons mention something about a merchant who had been robbed in the afternoon and how some random person mouthed off to 'the Chief'.
"Great, I'm already a local legend. So much for the quiet life."
"Stop talking to yourself and order a damned drink already." The barman chided.
"I'll take a double whiskey straight and a night here if you've got a room."
"Whatever you say stranger. Although this isn't the fanciest joint in the world."
"The bullet holes in the bar show as much."
"Goddamn comedian. You got a name?"
"It's Jack Wayne."
