Salvation in the bottom of the glass.
How many drinks had he had?
Three?
Five?
More like fifteen.
The tangy whisky burned the back of his throat as he emptied the glass and slammed it back down on the bar. The barman, used to him by now, swiftly poured him another before going back to chat up the resident bar skank.
He gripped the cool glass, feeling its smoothness cool his fingertips. Half melted ice cubes bobbed in his tumbler, clinking against the sides as he moved it onto a soggy beer mat.
It had been a boring day. All he had killed was a stupid hobgoblin who had attacked a child in the Kalm region. He had felt like baiting the snakes that patrolled the swamp just at the edge of the Chocobo grassland, but had decided against it.
The demon drink had called him again.
It had become a habit, this afternoon drinking. It made his troubles disappear. It made him numb and stopped him from thinking too much. Often he picked up an equally drunk woman, and they would go to her place and have whisky soaked sex, he would leave before she woke up sober. He couldn't face the looks, or the screams.
All his friends had settled down into their lives. They had started families, new jobs and new beginnings. But it was harder for him. He had been asleep for over 30 years and then there was the claw.
Not many women saw past the claw.
Then there was the inability to hold down a decent job. There was no market for decent snipers now that Shinra was churning out its army of super soldiers. He did some mercenary work on the side, but couldn't find a stable career. It wasn't the money he was after; he had amassed a lot of money after meteor fall, advent children and the Deepground fiasco. It was more the routine and the feeling that he had somewhere to belong.
The only job he had been offered was a job at McMidgars. Flipping burgers for a living.
The TV flickered, emergency report.
The newscaster in her bright red blazer looked sickly pale against the bright orange backdrop. A video of the Shinra compound was playing, people screaming and running everywhere.
All Vincent could make out was "Beast Attack" He got to his feet, swaying slightly. He checked his weapons and left the bar, leaving half a glass of whisky sitting.
The door slammed behind him, the barman already guzzling his drink. Hearing the screams, he headed towards the Shinra compound, wondering what fresh hell had broken upon Edge this time.