I woke up at four. Stretching, I threw on the cleanest outfit I had--an all-black ensemble consisting of a button-up shirt, synthetic silk, with a light pattern of a dragon winding around it, and black pants. I I strapped on my boots, and slicked back my hair with some of my gel (I was almost out; I'd have to have Jez nick me a bottle at the store soon) then went out to see if the bar was needing work tonight.
The bar is called Diablos; there's a crude picture of the guardian force on the sign, directly above the words that say "DIABLOS" in large, bold letters. They're in a crappy part of town; I rarely stray from the crappy part of town, honestly. The people of Dollet would love to say that they don't have a crappy part of town, but Dieling City isn't the only place on the planet with a ghetto.
The pay is right; meaning, under the table. They don't ask for a real name, no tax credentials, and I do my job. When they need me.
Kashmir (I'm assuming that's a fake name, but you never know with some of the fucked up people here in Dollet), the bouncer, nodded to me and crossed his arms. He looks like a bouncer; he shaves his head bald daily, to a shine, and has arms that are easily as large around as my head. And I have a big head. On his head are two dragons interlinking in the back; the tattoo was done by an artist that owed him money. Kashmir is another dealer in the area, mostly in hardcore goods like coke and smack. I've bought from him a few times, and I never buy on credit. I know better.
December was bartending tonight. That's her real name, I've seen her license. She's also the owner, and she can put up as good of a fight as Kashmir can, if need be. She grew up in Dieling City, downtown, and her weapon of choice is her fists. She keeps a shotgun underneath the bar, and I happen to know that her aim is deadly.
"Yo, December."
"Hey, Rage. Haven't seen you here in a few days." She said, wiping the bar down with a rag. The party was in full swing, so to speak, but Camilla and Darren were already out there, and until people started coming to the bar, she didn't have to take orders. Her servers did it for her.
"Yeah." I acknowledged, lighting a cigarette. "Got any work?"
"Actually, I do. Big crowd tonight, I think. You know how to tend?"
I smirked. "A few things. Show me the ropes and I'll catch on quick enough."
"I figured you would." She looked me over. "What you're wearing'll do. Come back here."
I hid a grin and stepped back behind the bar. December must be expecting a huge crowd to ask me to bartend with her. She rarely got so busy that she couldn't handle the rush by herself.
Showed me where the liquor was, where the shotgun was, and some of the most basic drinks. Most of what people ordered here was pretty straight-up; a beer, a tap, or a shot of something. Occasionally we'd get a high-roller who'd order something off-the-wall like a Manhatten or a martini. There was a chart on the wall that showed what drinks we could offer, if someone really wanted, and in smaller print for the bartender, how to make it.
"Sure thing."
"Register's back here." She said, leading me around to an out-of-sight area. "You keep the money on you unless you're getting loaded down or someone wants change. Keep your tips separate from my money." She grinned. "You can keep your tips, of course."
I smirked. "How much?"
"Well, since you'll double as a bouncer, I'll be nice and double your money. Three hundred, plus you can keep your tips." She wagged her finger at me. "I expect you to keep the drunks under control, Rage."
"Sure thing." I said. She nodded and went up front, and I rolled up my shirtsleeves, sticking my pack of cigarettes under the fold on my left arm. My muscles bulged threateningly under the sleeves; they had, in the past, deterred a lot of people from fucking with December and her crew here at the bar.
December's pretty fucking cool. She's part of my group, although not as tight-knit as Jez, Jake, and the rest of them. She's there occasionally, and she usually brings something nice with her, sometimes a twenty-sack, sometimes an eight-ball, sometimes a few teeners to share. It's always good quality; December makes a lot of money from this place.
Jake introduced me to December about a week into my acquaintenship with him. I was, as I said, always in a rage, and he figured I might as well drink some of it off. December noticed that I got mad when drunk, but I beat the absolute fuck out of some of the patrons who were getting out of hand (I really hate it when people interrupt my drinking), and she offered me sometime work.
Since then she's come to trust me, which is, I guess, a measure of my loyalty. I may be a fuckup in most aspects, but I'm still fiercely loyal to what I think is worth behing loyal to. December is, really, the only person I've met worth that around here.
"We've got an open-mic night tonight." She commented as I walked out from the register area. "A really popular local. I don't remember his name but he's pretty good, plays guitar. He'll draw a lot of people."
"Ah, so that's why you wanted backup." I grinned.
"Yep." December is a pretty decent human being, in that she can recognize her limitations and isn't afraid to admit to them. If only--if only--I had some of that ability. It would have kept me out of all of this shit. I'd have made SeeD ages ago. I snorted to myself. Let's not think about that right now.
If December noticed the hesitation on my part, she didn't pay attention. She made me take over the bar while it was still sort of slow, watching as I deftly handled the customers and managed to make twenty in tips from two guys already drunk.
That's rent. I thought, shoving the tips into my left pocket. Their cash for the drinks went into my right.
"You catch on faster than I thought." December said. Her mid-length brown hair, normally down around her shoulders, was up in a ponytail tonight. She only did that when she knew--I think she has an instinct about this, probably from five years in the business--that it was going to be busy.
"What can I say, I'm damn smart." I said, tapping my head. She rolled her eyes, used to my arrogance (a carryover from the Disciplinary Committee). Thinking about the DC made me think of Fujin and Raijin, and I idly wondered where they were. Last time I'd seen them was in Balamb, where we'd been trying half-heartedly to fish. Raijin actually caught something, as I recall. We each went to our separate rooms that night, but when they woke up, I wasn't there. Why? I'd split. Just like my parents when I was little. I suppose it's genetic.
I can't seem to ever let things get nice, get comfortable. That's probably why I loved this life so much. Even with Squall; our relationship had been almost perfect, and I had to go and fuck it up and cheat on him. Well, I can also blame that on ignorance; I was only fifteen, sixteen years old at the time. I'm four years older and four years wiser, and I know I'd still probably do it...
I shook myself from my ruminations about the past and got into the job of serving the increasingly steady amount of drunks. After a few hours I wanted to leave, but there was good money in staying; drunks can't count well so you almost always get a good tip out of them.
"The guy's here." December murmured to me. "It's gonna get really busy really soon."
"Sucks." I muttered back. I flipped her a thumbs-up and went back to work.
I heard sounds of someone tuning up a guitar, but I didn't pay attention to anything except for the customers. Suddenly there were more to count, and December and I were hard-put upon to keep up with them.
I heard someone cough, and I looked up. No more customers; they'd all gone to listen to whoever this was. I peered into the crowd and I caught a glimpse of someone familiar. I groaned.
Irvine. Irvine fucking Kinneas. Again. What the fuck was it with these people and stalking me?
"I'm gonna start with a cover, here." Irvine said. He was wearing his cowboy hat, but the leather duster was gone. Instead he wore a black Tshirt and black pants. He opened his mouth and started to sing. Despite myself, I listened. It was a pretty popular love song; even I could sing along with the lyrics. I can sing, despite popular rumor. I'm not half-bad, either.

"A hundred days had made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face
A thousand lights have made me colder
And I don't think I can look at this the same

But all the miles that separate
They disappeared now when I'm dreaming of your face

I'm here without you baby
But your still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight it's only you and me

The miles just keep rolling
As the people lead their way to say hello
I've heard this life is overrated
But I hope it gets better as we go

I'm here without you baby
But your still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight it's only you and me

Everything I know, and anywhere I go
It gets hard but it won't take away my love
And when the last one falls, when it's all said and done
it get hard but it won't take away my love

I'm here without you baby
But your still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight it's only you and me

I'm here without you baby
But your still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight it's only you and me"

"Dedicated to someone really special that I miss." Irvine winked at a few ladies, who tittered around. I saw December roll her eyes, and I was unreasonably glad that she wasn't taken in by Irvine's idiocy.
I assumed that the girl he was singing about was that twit Selphie. Lord, how I'd teased them at the orphanage. I remember that. A slightly cruel grin twisted it's way onto my face, and then I wiped it clean as someone walked up and ordered a beer.
Irvine's voice coming over the speakers was really starting to annoy me by the time he left; he was pretty good, I just don't like the cowboy-geek.
Another small rush accompanied his departure, which December and I struggled to handle. After about an hour it was down to it's normal pace, and she had me dump off her cash before paying me the three hundred and letting me go.
I sat at a table near the bar and counted out my tips; over four hundred, more than doubling my wages for tonight. I was rich! I could pay for rent a few times over and not have to worry about it for weeks.
"You're pretty good, Rage." December said, after things had calmed down to a point where she could come out and sit with me. "Ever considered tending?"
"Not really." I admitted.
"You can't fool me, Rage, you're former military." She crossed her arms. "People can sense that sort of thing; you keep the place calmed down while you're doing it. That's a good asset in this business."
I shrugged.
"I can hire you on regular; I've been looking for someone good enough to tend so that I can take care of administrative stuff."
I shrugged again.
"I'd have to know your real name, though."
I stopped dead. "No way in hell."
She eyed me. "It can't be that bad. I mean, who are you, Ultimecia or something?" She rolled her eyes and laughed. I frowned and eyed the wood grain of the table.
"Something like that." I muttered.
That stopped her. "Well, think about it. I won't tell anyone, it doesn't have to leave my office."
"I will." I whispered. She got the hint and left the table.
A regular job. That would be admitting that things were settled, that things could get comfortable. And I knew that I wouldn't be alright with that.
I got a beer, changed my tips into twenties, and tucked the money, under the cover of the bar, securely into my underwear; between my semitight pants and my skin, there wasn't much of a chance that I'd lose any of it. With that, I holstered the gun that I kept on me pretty much everywhere and sauntered back to my hotel room.

"Yo....Rage!" I heard an annoyingly familiar voice ask. I turned around and thanked Hyne that he hadn't said my real name; I was in such a strange state of mind that I probably would have answered to it.
"Yes, Irvine?" I asked, politely, feeling the weight of my gun on my side and wondering if I'd have to use it.
"We need to talk, man." He put a hand on my shoulder.
I shook it off, angrily. "No, we don't. Leave me alone." Turned back to my original task, walking home. He followed me. I ignored him.
"Didja like my performance?" He asked.
I sighed; acting like a two-year old is part of my repetoir, I've done it well for my entire life. "It was alright, I guess. Can you leave me alone?"
"No way, man." He shook his head. "You don't look good. Rin--ah, she'd have a fit if she knew I left you alone."
I glared at him. "Why the hell should she care? Any of you? Get the fuck out of my face, Kinneas, before I do to it what I did to Mr. Hero." I pushed him away from me and stormed up the stairs to my room. It was only eleven at night; I sighed, too worked up to go to sleep, and completely dry as far as drugs were concerned. I started to pick up my stuff. Jez had been right, I definitely needed to clean the place. Soon enough, my clothes were piled in a largeish pile at the foot of my bed, and Jacks' food and water dishes were clean and full of fresh sustenance.
Bored now, I sorted through my money again. Total, I had seven hundred, thirty six dollars and twenty seven cents. I figured I'd take two hundred tomorrow and pay for two months rent. I could get some of my own weed, finally, and stash it around the room. I'd have to talk to December about that; she usually hooked me up on the rare occasion that I actually had money for my own shit.
I could buy Jacks some food; the stuff she was eating now was cheap shit nicked from a dollar store a few blocks away from me. I rather like Jacks; I'd never had a real pet before her, so I could almost thank Jez for making me take the cat in. She's mild-mannered and almost too cute to bear sometimes.
I could also buy me some food, and maybe some bullets for the lame ass pistol I carried around. I pined for Hyperion; unfortunately, that wouldn't happen anytime soon. Didn't keep the thing around me. Too conspicuous, and everyone knew Hyperion was attatched to the name Seifer Almasy.
I looked around my room and divided my cash up into a few different piles of about sixty bucks each, and hid each one in a different nook or cranny. I was paranoid by nature, made even more so by my stint in this hellhole. My room hadn't been broken into yet, but I didn't know when it would ever happen. I had a lot of hidey-holes.
I saved the last pile of sixty-seven and shoved that in my pocket. I petted Jacks, shut off the light, and locked my door securely behind me. Then I sauntered off to make a few purchases at the grocery store.

A five-pound bag of dried catfood, a carton of cigarettes, and thirty dollars worth of munchies later, I was back at the room, putting my shit away. I hadn't had any close encounters of the Squall kind, nor had I been accosted by Jez or Scion, so I figured the night was a good one. I considered going back to the bar; it was only midnight, and she stayed open until one Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, so I knew I could get a beer and a place to hang out if I gave in.
I dawdled, petting Jacks and dangling an old shoestring to entertain her, wishing that I could just let myself be content with staying in my room for the night. Sighing, I sprung loose another sixty and headed back for the bar.
It was pretty dead when I got there. December told me she was thinking of closing down early and going out herself. I urged her to; I was easily bored, and hanging out with December is rarely boring.
After a few minutes of pestering her, she gave in. She called the under-the tables over, paid them, and sent them home, then hung a huge "closed" sign up in the window. We each grabbed one last beer and then locked up, heading out into the great unknown.
"Bored again, Rage?" She asked, her cheeks dimpling in the moonlight. I nodded sullenly, shoving my hands into my pockets.
"We'll have a stop-in at my place and then head over to Jake's house." She suggested. I perked up, interested. I'd never been to December's house; to the best of my knowledge, no one has. I like to check out people's houses. The way they decorate them tells you what kind of person they are. My room, for instance, is messy most of the time, and random posters of bands or that I just find to be cool are hung, crooked, on the walls. A telescreen is mounted, also crooked, across from my bed, and there's a small bookcase. I'm not stupid, you know. I like to read. The bookcase is small because most of the time I'm broke and don't have the money to spend on shit like books.
Waste of money, most of the time. Jake has a library card he lets me use. Why buy books when I can use the sixty to buy a half-ounce of chron?
"This is it." December said, lightly. We had stopped in front of a sort of run-down looking house; most of the houses in the slums were kinda run-down. December, however, owned this, whereas most people rented them, so it can't have been as bad as I thought it'd be.
It wasn't. She had hardwood floors, a luxury I couldn't even begin to think about the costs of. The decor was quietly elegant, with a random weapon placed here and there. I thought it fit December perfectly; elegant, with a touch of bad-ass.
She came out with a bag and grinned, leading me back outside and locking the door. "I'm ready, let's get going."


Teener-a sixteenth, a measure of methamphetamine, or "crank." Just for ya'll who don't know.