A Night at McColl's

It has been nearly 10 years since the collapse of GeneCo, and the world is still dark from its corruption. The streets are littered with homeless, fighting over scraps of meat and bone. Like their father, Rotti Largo, the Largo siblings ran GeneCo with an iron fist. Sending the Repoman to collect on defaulted organs, their greed fueled the deaths of thousands. But to their dismay, the three ever-bickering siblings, could not have foreseen the downfall of their precious company. It was true they kept to their father's original vision, a world of "Life, for a small Price". Like any idea, over time it becomes warped by its new inhabitants. The Largo's stuffed their mouths with excess, and their bellies with power. They were splitting images of their late father, however, they were not as persuasive as the "Savior of Sanitarium Island". Activists stormed Congress and for nearly three years they protested the Repossessions of Organs, and like any wall that suffers constant beating, Congress fell to the whims of the people. Soon GeneCo stock began to plummet, as the realization of the companies uselessness after the "Organ Epidemic" had passed. Organ failures were down to such a low percentage, most statisticians chose not to include them in medical statistics. Lawsuits began to flood the GeneCo headquarters, as support groups began to fight against the use and creation of the hyper addictive "Zydrate".

And after nearly seven years after the death of Rotti Largo, the Company of GeneCo, the shining beacon of hope to humanity during its darkest hour, fell into bankruptcy. The activists however, did not see the pain and devastation they would unleash upon the world. Millions of jobs were lost when the company collapsed. Hospitals and Police forces lost funding and began a widespread closing of many of their buildings and stations. Poverty rose and people became desperate, as wars in the street raged across the globe. Countries erupted into mass chaos, and they called for the heads of those responsible for the devastation. Unfortunately for the world, The Largo siblings were reported to have been killed during the riots on Sanitarium Island. Their bodies were found broken and battered near the underground exit of GeneCo Tower, Police concluded it was their own employees who killed them. Luckily for Hector, he never worked for GeneCo. He worked as a garbage man, and business was booming. As he walked the streets of Los Angeles, he passed small shops and former venues that held many of the worlds greatest acts. They were shadows of their former selves, as they became havens for the homeless or the drug dealers.

Heading to his favorite bar was no simple task, he had to maneuver through mobs of beggars, hordes of the starved and the prostitutes that offered low prices. He knew once he entered he would be safe, the sturdy walls of the Irish pub called McColl's, would keep out the masses of poor saps. He had been coming here for ten years, sitting at the same spot every night and ordered the same drink. Bourbon and Scotch were his best friends, his loved ones, his solace. And every night he heard the angry man who sat in the back of the bar, screaming bloody murder over his drinks, always threatening with his fists to those who came too close. He was a drunk obviously, but Hector assumed the man was an old war veteran, for the ornate knife he had laying on the table, and the jumbled words and odd stories he always spoke of. He saw a name carved into the handle of the knife, but he couldn't make it out from here, although he knew he read it before. He reminded him of his Father, the man who used to "Forge" him through discipline. He hated his father. Finishing his first Bourbon he called for another, the blonde bartender obliged with a smile and filled his glass. She was very attractive, he face was flawless, her body was full and her curves were to die for. It almost seemed like she was made at a toy factory. Again he called for another, and another. She leaned in and asked him if he was having a bad day, using her cleavage to taunt him. He laughed and said his day just got better. She was like an angel to him, always smiling and using her, "Sweet" voice to sooth him into another drink, and a larger tip. She reminded him of his ex wife, repossessed by the dreaded Repoman. It was the night of their anniversary, twenty years to the day they got married. She was stumbling down the street, while he knew nothing of his wife's collection. She had a new jaw placed after a freak accident, but she decided to waste her earnings of materialistic possessions. The Repoman did not care what day it was, he only wanted her jaw. Hector found her on the street, with her throat cut and her lower jaw removed. Shaking his head of the vision from that night, he noticed a scar that ran up the Bartender's face. He looked at the bottom of his empty glass, and said "Another". The hours dragged on, still sitting in the same stool and enjoying the same drinks.

Everything was going to the norm, until a strange man walked in. He was hooded and drenched in water, Hector then noticed it was pouring rain outside. He cursed, looks like he would have to hail a cab tonight. The man seemed to know the Bartender as he greeted her by a strange name, Hector was trying to understand the name, and in his confusion, forgot the name he usually calls her by. Shrugging he took another long gulp of his drink, The newcomer had a dark blue hoodie, with a denim jacket over it. He could see long black hair running down his face. The back of his jacket had a symbol, blurred by his drunken sight, he made out a peace symbol. Maybe that's why that drunk war vet in the back cursed him and called him a weird name? The man began to laugh as he pushed away a drunk woman who forced her way onto his lap. This man reminded him of his older brother, who always seemed to get the ladies. No matter how he looked, acted or spoke, women flocked to him like a fly on shit. He could tell this man has had a few encounters in his life, the man turned to him and offered his hand to shake. Hector slurred his name out as he violently shook the mans hand. The man said his name, but Hector was too drunk to even take it in. They talked about each others lives and shared a few drinks. This guy isn't all that bad he thought, it was closing time when the man said a strange statement, which Hector had asked him politely to repeat it. "I said, has anyone told you. You have a beautiful face?" He then remembered what the man's name was. Pavi smiled as he admired Hector's face, he ran his fingers up and down his trusted scalpel. Amber turned from the bar and collected glasses and discreetly injected herself with Zydrate, While Luigi pocketed his knife and stumbled upstairs, upset of another night without a kill.