Author's note: Please bear with me, this is my first attempt at writing in a long time and I'm trying to get the feel for writing characters, dialogue, descriptions, and action. Any constructive criticism is appreciated.
I've done some major rewriting of this chapter, so if you already read it, it might help to re-read it. Now that I'm a little more satisfied with this rewrite, I plan to begin actually writing their time at the Pub.
I've taken a few liberties with the structure and slang of the Alliance Marines as the Mass Effect Wiki doesn't really have all that much about ground forces. Unfortunately, my only experience with actual military is as an Army brat and three years of ROTC, so not only is it woefully incomplete, it also represents a completely different service branch. GO ARMY, BEAT NAVY.
I've re-read this once or twice and I think I've caught the most egregious errors in grammar and spelling, but another pair of eyes always helps and I'm not sure how much more I can read it before I tear my hair out and give up.
"I suppose congratulations are in order Mister Murphy," Hao Xu said, gripping Patrick Murphy firmly on the shoulder, "How does it feel to be a free man?"
Pat Murphy laughed, a grin forming on his handsome face, "Not so bad, Chief Xu. Especially since I'll never have to listen to that god-be-damned racket you call singing again. I thought Chinese was supposed to be a tunal language?"
Dimples formed on Hao's face, despite his attempt to stifle a laugh, "That's tonal, you damnbarbarian. I might have started to miss that big damn smile of yours if it wasn't for how woefully ignorant you are," Hao retorted as he gave his friend a good-natured shove. Behind Patrick, a short, burly man with a large nose and a long scar on his left cheek walked over, "Mikhail, Gunny Ndiaye let you off early?"
"Da-da," Mikhail Rastorguev replied as he strolled up and lifted Patrick off the ground with a big bear-hug that squeezed the breath out of the taller man, "He's a bastard, but even he isn't bez sardichnye; he knows that the Mick and I go back to when we were boots together."
Patrick groaned as the diminutive Russian continued to crush him, "Easy Mikhail Nikolayevich! You'll crack a rib and I'm not sure the corpsman'll see me anymore."
Reluctantly, Mikhail put his friend down and looked at the other two marines. The three of them were an unlikely crew. Mikhail was short, broad-chested, muscled, and at best could be described as "unconventionally handsome," but only if that person felt particularly charitable. The wicked scar that stretched from his left ear, across the check to his upper lip gave him a distinctly sinister appearance which helped to scare off the few ladies he dared approach.
"You know, today is truly a sad day," Mikhail said sorrowfully, "I always knew that eventually Xu would leave us and end up an N7 or officer...but I'd thought that at least Patrick and I would end up lifers together, living off a fat government pension on some little Asari moon..."
Patrick and Hao stood silently, in stark contrast to their dour little comrade. Both men towered over Mikhail and were of a far less sullen demeanor. Physically, Patrick was a runner by nature-slim, but four years in the Alliance Marine Corps had bulked him up to a respectable level and he could have been a model for the idea marine—tall, dark-haired, handsome, and fit. Patrick cut a dashing figure and was the darling of females of almost any species; a handsome face, natural swagger, and confidence combined with his piercing blue eyes and a charming smile easily overcame most resistance.
Hao was also a good looking man: tall, dark eyed, and thoughtful; he lacked the confidence and charisma that Patrick had. Instead, Hao fit the mold of a dutiful Asian son: hard working, respectful, and brilliant. In his late twenties, he was the eldest and as the ranking marine he took his responsibility seriously while on duty, but he was more than willing to allow Patrick's natural joie de vivre guide them on the shore. But today Patrick had turn in his kit, been formally sworn into the reserves, and was now officially a civilian marking the end of an era for the three comrades.
Hao put his hand on Mikhail's shoulder, "Hey now, Barbarian, there's no need to talk like that. I'm not going anywhere yet, and you talk about Patrick like he's dead and buried."
Patrick nodded, "Right, this kind of talk could be considered defeatist," flashing a big grin, he added, "Weren't your people known on Earth for shooting traitors to the motherland?"
"Were we?" Mikhail's brows furrowed, "I can't imagine anyone willingly fighting for the old nation-state. Lyubertsy was a hell hole..."
"It's beside the point, Misha! Don't think of this as the end, but the beginning of a new adventure! We've got debauchery to plan!"
Mikhail shook Hao's hand off his shoulder, "So there is a plan? I've been given liberty by Gunny Ndiaye until the Budapest ships back out again…then it's back to the Captain's Mast and NJP for me."
"I guess we'd better make the most of the next three days, hadn't we?" Patrick replied, "Heaven knows you'd be more than welcome to jump ship and stick around with me Misha.
"But I haven't gotten a clue; this is my first time actually aboard the Citadel myself," turning, he asked, "Hao, didn't you dock here a few times back when you served on the Wanjialing?"
"Yes, but that was years ago," seeing the glum expressions appear on the other's faces, Hao smiled and added, "Fear naught! I've got a cousin in C-Sec and I messaged him via extranet before we docked—he gave me the directions to a place that sounds perfect for Patrick Murphy's last hurrah."
"Ha!" Mikhail barked out a laugh, "Always planning ahead! I see you've earned those stripes of yours."
This caused Patrick to laugh, "Misha, you knew when you signed up with this outfit that Hao was the brains behind it. You think the Alliance made him a Service Chief because he's 'oh-so-handsome'? If that were the case, I'd be a Fleet Admiral by now."
"Patrick's right, Mikhail," Hao said, "There are a few other requirements besides good looks—modesty, to start with," saying this, Hao had to quickly jump back, narrowly avoiding an elbow strike to his stomach, "Ai-ya!"
"Civilian now, remember? I can hit you and it doesn't count as striking a superior anymore."
Hao seemed poised to attempt a counterattack, but Mikhail interrupted, "Enough of that! I've been locked aboard ship for the past three liberties and I don't want to waste any of my precious freedom. If you won't lead on; Za mnoi!"
Hao raised his hands, palms up, "Stand fast, Mikhail; I'll get us there. Get changed into your shore going clothes and I'll meet the two of you at the cab point, dong ma?"
"Fine by me," Patrick clapped his hands together and rubbed them, "I'm interested in seeing what passes for my perfect send off!"
"So, three marines walk into a bar? Stop, I think I've heard this one before guys," said Patrick.
"No, it's two marines and a sorry pog who decided the Corps wasn't good enough from him. Or it will be if Sergeant-Shoes ever finds the bar," Mikhail replied, using the archaic rank equivalent.
Hao gave his shorter friend a not-so- gentle shove, "Bizui! We're almost there, Barbarian! Do you have any idea how hard navigating around the wards has gotten since the Geth attack? Last time I had liberty here, Chora's Den or the Flux was the place to be! Now the damnbitch keepers have turned that ward into a residential zone and the Flux went belly-under when Dark Star opened."
"The expression is belly-up," Patrick added with a smirk, "For a guy who was brought up speaking two languages, you somehow manage to mangle the most widely spoken one half the time."
"First off," Hao replied with mock indignation, "My father insisted that in addition to English I speak both Beijing and Sichuanese Mandarin, but don't let the name fool you-they're basically two different languages at this point. And unlike Mikhail here," he said gesturing to the Russian, "he never let me use a translator, so when you hear me speak English-I'm actually speaking English."
Mikhail gave a toothy smile at this, showing off a mirrored set of golden incisors, "Da, that's true. The school I attended was a little short staffed in the faculty of foreign languages. And the faculty of math. And Science." He rubbed his chin, "Come to think of it, it wasn't much of a school at all."
"Secondly," Hao said, making a point to ignore Mikhail, "Several billion of us native Mandarin speakers were quite unhappy with the decision to make English the official-"
Patrick cut him off, "English is the most widely spoken language back Earthside,"
Hao muttered, "Most widely spoken second language maybe."
"Point is, it was the one most people knew," Patrick continued, "And if your nation-state had wanted more say in the Alliance, they should have done more in space exploration or funded it more, instead of letting us foreign-devils reap all the benefits."
Hao sighed, "Why do the leaders of China always have to shut down our exploration projects. First it was the Ming and their stupid treasure fleets, then it was those damn-fool communists. Lions led by jackasses..."
"I thought it was 'lions led by donkeys.' Don't tell me you can't get that saying right either?" Patrick said.
"Isn't that what he just said?" Mikhail asked, confused.
"I mean it in both senses of the word; smart ass," Hao replied dryly.
The three companions continued their ribbing down the corridors of the Citadel laughing, occasionally cursing, and generally enjoying themselves. Hao quietly dropped out of the conversation as he concentrated on finding the bar. Coming to yet another intersection he paused, scratched his head, and scanned the brightly colored signs which covered the entrances. Truth be told, he was pretty sure he was lost. Hitting the bars for Murphy's first day of civilian life had seemed like a great idea, but they had been walking the corridors for slightly over an hour and this intersection seemed discouragingly familiar.
"Say, Misha," Patrick said, noticing Hao's halt, "I think you might be onto something about Hao pushing for OCS."
"Eh? Why?"
"Because he's gotten us lost. Second lieutenant with a map and all that," Patrick said, causing Mikhail to guffaw,
"Very funny," Hao said, "Give me a minute; I'm positive it should be somewhere around here."
Frustrated, he tapped a quick command on his omni-tool which brought up the meager directions that Yuming had sent him. He carefully re-read them and concluded that this had to be the right spot; but where was it? Hao wondered if he should break down and tell Patrick and Mikhail the name of the bar so he could get two more sets of eyes searching. He had planned to keep it a surprise, but he was getting desperate.
Once more, he scanned the neon signs in a fruitless attempt to will the bar to appear. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed that a darkened space between a small Hanar Curio shop and a Sushi-Ramen stand. He had seen the dark spot before, but had written it off as closed. But as he looked at it, a small group of Quarians approach the door and entered. Confused, Hao searched the storefront for a sign, before realizing that above the door there was a sign. It just happened to be a hand painted sign with two paltry lights which were woefully inadequate at drawing attention to it.
Now knowing where to look, he read the sign and smiled. On a forest green background in ornate golden letters stood the words: "Donnybrook Fair—Traditional Human Public House, Compleat with fine Ales, Porters, and Spirits (Earthen and Intersteller)."
Throwing his arms around his two companions he announced, "Brothers, we have arrived!"
bez sardichnye- Without a heart
The abundance of names Mikhail is called is not a continuity error, Russians traditionally have a given name, surname and patronymic, making his name Mikhail Nikolayevich Rastorguev; and Misha is the diminutive of Mikhail, commonly used among close friends
NJP is an acronym for Non-Judicial Punishment, which covers any sort of punishment short of a court martial. The Captain's Mast is just a naval term for it. You may have heard the Army term "Article 15". Basically the same thing
Za mnoi!-Follow me!
Dong Ma—Got it? Understand?
POG: Person other than grunt, anyone not a combat arms branch—especially REMFs (Rear Echelon Mother…)
Bizui: Shut it!
OCS: Officer Candidate School
