Looks like I'm to continue the story! Sorry for the delay!!
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L-2 had undergone a lot of changes since the start of the war. First it turned into the hellhole of space, then rich do-gooders from earth bought up large chunks of real-estate to fix up and turn into cute little coffee shops and boutiques. In no time at all L-2 was equivalent to the wealthy of Beverly Hills, the romance of Paris, the technology of Japan and the poor of Africa. For even though L-2 had undergone the transformation from ugly duckling to dazzling swan, it was accomplished with cover-up. Not Mother Nature. The poor of L-2 became poorer; unable to leave, they were forced into the corner to rot quietly while the lavish earth dwellers graced the colony with their presence on summer vacations and "work" related rendezvous. The simple fact that they brought most of the money into the colony made them think they were in charge of it. Hence the people who lived there year round from birth to death had little, if any, say in the decision-making processes of the government and so therefore suffered from lack of government programs and subsidies to aid them.
Enter the drug lords.
The drug lords had been the government before L-2's transformation. Contrary to outward appearances, the drug lords did not suffer from L-2's blossoming cleanliness. Those with money tend to have habits. And the established lords of the colony readily met those habits. The new government, not wanting to risk its good relations with the drug lords, allowed them to maintain their control over the "subspecies" of humans that had once had free range over the colony without any interference. Though the lords were becoming greedy again and slowly expanding their boarders.
The bar I was to become "happily employed" with, sat smack dab in the filth of L-2. My hotel had been on the outskirts of the transformation. Une apparently wanted to ease me into this decrepit habitat.
Soot and filth covered everything in Sector C, unlike the rest of the colony; Sector C maintained its original name. Since it was not part of the transformation, no one thought it important to change its name.
Hobos slept along buildings and in doorways in rags. The street was crawling with peddlers of all sorts. One in particle had an army of rats gathered round him he was teaching tricks to. Kids and some amused parents stood round watching. The colony rat was like a tame dog to these people. Hustlers and prostitutes were out and about; apparently any time of the day is their time of day.
Finally I reached the bar. There was an old faded sign swinging above the door by two rusty nails that read: Thirsty Bull. The door handle looked and felt like it was covered in 50 years of filth. I don't think it had even been cleaned or changed. After my initial pull on the door to open it left the door perfectly in its place, I gripped the door handle firmly and yanked the door open. A loud screech of a rusty door hinge signaled my arrival to a man sitting at a table with papers spread out in front of him and a busboy who was behind the bar cleaning glasses.
Without moving anything but his eyes the man looked at me a minute before going back to the task of organizing the papers before saying, "Are you Tucker Marick?"
"I am"
"Good." Obviously the owner wasn't one for talking, I respected him for this. I walked into the bar a little more just to be away from the door and waited for the owner to address me again.
After arranging the papers in an order the owner was pleased with he gathered them together, stood and limped over to me. Outstretching his hand to me he said, "I'm Ando Onomora and this, as I'm sure you've guessed, is a bar. We open in 2 hours. As I'm sure you noticed when entering that door is a pain in the rear so open it and turn the lock to the locked position. That way it won't close all the way and the patrons will be able to handle it in their states." He started limping away in the direction of a back door. "Get acquainted with where everything is located. This is run like any other bar. People order a drink, you make it, they pay you. Back this way is my office and the rest rooms are the door on the left. I'll be leaving here within the next hour to take care of some other business. If there are any problems there is a bat under the bar, if that doesn't work there is a gun with some shells in the drawer under the cash register. Bar closes at 4 am. Have a good first night" and with that he entered the room that lead to his office. Apparently I may have to change my initial opinion of him not being one for talking 'cause he just said an earful.
I looked the bar over. There were wooden tables and chairs along the walls and stools along the bar. Most of the chairs looked too wobbly to hold anyone's weight without snapping and the tables looked like two empty glasses of beer would be the most they could handle. During my examination of the establishment I was also watching the busboy. He hadn't moved since I entered and his white shirt and apron seemed to clash with the gritty atmosphere of the place. He unashamedly kept his eyes on me, even when I looked straight back at him. Not a flinch or a blink. The need to water my own eyes was my excuse for breaking our staring contest, though it didn't dissuade him from continuing his one-on-one match with himself. Had I been into emotions and feelings I'd say he would have given me the creeps, but since I'm not I paid little attention to him and walked over to the bar to familiarize myself with the placement of bottles and glasses.
There wasn't much to familiarize myself with. The bar was very limited on alcohol. It consisted of beer, beer and more beer. The choices this bar gave its customers, it seemed, was either bottled or draft and pint or pitcher. Simple enough. I walked over to the door, opened it and turned the lock to the locked position. Then I walked away letting the door slowly close behind me. The busboy still hadn't moved since I first entered the bar and he was still watching me. He looked to be in his early twenties, lean with dirty blond hair and a height of about 6 feet. Though he was unashamed to continuously stare at me there was no intensity behind his eyes. It was more the blank stare of an uninterested observer, waiting to pass judgment, rather than the stare of an enemy waiting to strike. I decided to pass the time waiting for the bar to open by cleaning the glasses with a rag at the other end of the bar from the busboy. We wiped down the glasses in peaceful silence. About 30 minutes before opening the busboy changed his stare from my general area to that of the door.
Five minutes to opening the first customer walked, or rather stumbled in. He looked to be in his mid-forties. Gray hair was scattered over his balding head. His shoulders were hunched forward and his lose staggering walk made his arms swing from side to side. He was dressed in rags and covered with filth. The busboy stopped cleaning his glass, walked to the cooler, pulled out a beer and placed it on the bar. The man came upon it like a small child being reunited with its lost puppy. He picked it up, lifting it to his lips with utter care; bringing his head back and closing his eyes he began to drink from it like it was water. The drink was finished in less than a minute. I realized I was staring only when the busboy nonchalantly got the man another beer without a word passed before either. The man picked up his second drink and took a seat on one of the stools along the bar. The man propped his beer-holding arm on the bar and held it close to his lips. With his arm and beer in place he noticed me for the first time. Lifting his chin up quickly was his form of acknowledgement before returning to his beer. This second beer he took his time with. Meaning only that he took a sip at a time while looking blankly at some unknown spot on the wall in front of him. Even so he still finished the drink within five minutes.
As the man was finishing his second beer more people started entering the bar. Patrons came to the bar before taking their drink to an empty table, but for those who chose to find a table first the busboy wasted no time in seeking them out and taking their order. The bar was full of drunken bodies in no time. I kept my eye on the door incase a particular junkyard worker crossed the threshold, but I kept my ears open for any talk that may be related to the drug lords.
It was a long night. No one seemed to mind the lack or space or the occasional drunk relieving their livers and stomachs on some strangers shoulder. We had run out of bottles around midnight and the taps had all run dry right around 4 am. No sooner had the availability of beer disappeared, than the crowed in the bar also started to vanish. I later learned this was something the bar owner had figured out after years of running the bar. The only way to get the people to leave was by stopping the flow of alcohol. And the most successful way to do this way for there to be none left so angry patrons couldn't force their way over the bar and to the beer. Some nights the beer ran out before 4 and sometimes it lasted a litter longer. But it was the only sure way to get any rest between days.
I didn't learn much in terms of drug dealer's dealings. I spotted a few blokes who where most likely dealers or in the circle. Their mannerisms were a little to formal, their eyes scanned the room more than the average Joe's, and their clothing was just a cut above the rest. To the untrained eye it would have been hard to pick any of these signs out. But my eyes weren't untrained. I had been too busy to get out of the bar like the busboy had been doing. There was too much business going on at the bar for both workers to leave it at the same time. I planned to be the one taking orders from the tables tomorrow night, and as often as I could get it.
Duo had not entered the bar my first night there, but I didn't count on that luck holding on much longer. I was also going to use my plan of being the table hopper as my way of avoiding him when he did enter the bar. Of course this also counted on the fact that he would be the type of patron who went to the bar rather than to a table. Though I was sure the bar I was working wasn't the only in the area, so it was possible Duo would never step foot in mine.
Once all the patrons had left the bar looked like a few dozen bombs had hit it. Chairs were knocked over everywhere; there was even the occasional overturned table. Bottles and cups littered both the floor and tables. There was a layer of liquid covering the floor. This consisted of beer, vomit and urine. I didn't even want to see what the bathrooms looked like. The busboy had already begun mopping the floor. I took a garbage bag and began walking around the bar collecting bottles. Once I had all the bottles in bags I got a plastic bucket from behind the bar to collect the cups in. The busboy had moved on from mopping to wiping down all the surfaces and standing up the overturned tables and chairs.
Once I had gathered all the glasses I began washing them. The busboy disappeared into the bathrooms for what I thought was an amazingly short amount of time, before coming back out and issuing the first words to me I'd heard come out of his mouth: "We have cleaned up enough for the night. Go home, sleep and be back here by 2 to finish getting the bar ready." I nodded my understanding, finished washing the glass in my hand before setting it aside and drying my hands. The busboy had gone into the back, and come back out with his jacket. I had not come in a jacket. We walked to the front door together. I reached it first so I turned the lock to the open position so the door would be able to close fully. When we got outside the busboy pulled a key out of his pocket and locked the door behind us. He then turned and walked in the opposite direction I was to go with a nod of his head.
I was glad he wasn't going the same way as me. Though I was content to not start a conversation with him if we had been walking the same direction, its much more comfortable to walk alone if your not going to be having a conversation with someone you don't now. It was 5:30 when I left the bar. I arrived back at my hotel around 6 and after stripping down to my boxers crashed into bed.