Thirty-Five Running
an awesome blossom

War in the East, high-fashion in the West, religious nut jobs to the North, and drug bust after drug bust back home in the good ol' South. It was all Douglas could do to keep from going back into space, and even that was a dump nowadays with the Global Military Force's occupation.

The establishment of much-needed law and order up there wasn't what ruined space; it was bureaucracy. There were background checks for the travelers; vast, restricted areas; safety precautions after safety precautions because "Goddesses" forbid anyone have any fun out there… Sure, Douglas understood the necessity of it all since he was certain that he and the forcefully-disbanded ICD unintentionally had a hand in the creation of sanction after sanction, but what bothered him the most were the forms. There were forms to change location, forms to import goods from the globe, forms to fill out forms, and there were probably even forms to take a piss.

…Not that ex-Captain Douglas Jay Falcon had the ability to relocate anywhere in space since he, among others, had been unilaterally banned from the entire god'damned area once the GMF, and subsequently the IPF, flew in, but it was always nice to pretend that one had options.

Options were what kept Douglas in Port Town where he was born, and options were what had him coming to the same hole-in-the-wall bar every night that he could since the Space Reclamation. After all, it was there that he became a man, realized that all he wanted to do was race after his release from incarceration, and, most importantly, where he met the most beautiful yet unattainable woman in the entire fucking galaxy:

Samus Aran.

Douglas Falcon could recreate every detail about that night in his mind, but he could never bring himself to do it for fear that she would somehow come back and kick him in the balls for losing himself to pointless nostalgia. He was half-tempted to anyway just to bring her back, but the state of his testicles were more important since he still harbored hopes of becoming a father one day. Priorities. It would be a shitty night for reminiscing anyway, Douglas quickly realized as he situated himself in the same stool with the same drink with the same bartender as he had for ages.

Without being conspicuous about it, he noted two key men among the regulars:

One was a gruff-looking stranger who looked as if he could have been a nightly patron - yet stood out because he wasn't. Weary faces like his were a dime a dozen there, but what was distinct about him was a bandana tied around his forehead. It was such an oddly specific thing to wear that he couldn't help but wonder about it - and about him. Who wore those nowadays? Sure, you had some military grunts that would wear them during training exercises, but what high-class pieces of shit would be caught dead in this dive bar? IPF goons swarmed the North and West; there in the South was no man's land - it was Douglas's land. Despite the bandana, though, the stranger couldn't be pegged as a member of the Internova Police Force. His mien was haunted and worn, not green with a gun up his ass. Of course, Douglas could have gone over and asked him about the god'damned thing, but while he never had a problem opening his big mouth, he wasn't stupid. The man had an air of bodies and the tragedy of life around him; men like that were fucking dangerous (and men like that were in good company).

The other man - or kid he should say - couldn't have been more noticeable in the joint if he tried. What made it hilarious to Douglas was that it was obvious that the kid was trying so hard to not be noticed. Was he even old enough to drink? It didn't matter in a place like that, but the wannabe-father in him was concerned. Yeah, Douglas Jay Falcon, GMF's former (Second) Most Wanted, was getting all parental at this kid's sorry condition. Even the green, drawn-up hood attached to his jacket (some bullshit West thing, probably) couldn't hide his youthful, fair hair and skin. No, if he was serious about fitting in then he would have dirtied himself up; as it was, the kid was just plain naïve. And probably stupid, too. Douglas felt for the boy, really, because it was always the stupid kids who learned too early and too harshly about the shitty sides of life - and the ex-captain had been one stupid-as-fuck kid back then, too. Hell, all of the men among them had been the most idiotic of boys. If they hadn't, they wouldn't be sitting on their asses drinking all night to a sad song not a one of them could recognize.

Douglas had drank enough already that night that he almost told the kid to come over so he could give him some life advice, which was actually just him rambling ineffectually about his past until the barkeep would get ticked at some jab and tell him to shut the hell up or get out ("get out" was always the hardest yet most reasonable option since at that point in the drink Douglas would have little to no control over whatever boasting bullshit spewed from his lips).

Almost.

See, the funny, romantic thing about almost is that it creates a fantasy for quiet moments - an unexplored avenue of what-ifs and regrets when the mind is procrastinating deeper concerns. With almost around, Douglas would never have to wonder how the hell he would get himself out of some mess and would, instead, think back to that point in his life and think about how life would have been had he done that one thing differently.

…Such has how his life would have differed if he had talked to the kid instead of catching a glimpse of a woman with long, blonde hair standing outside of the bar - and sliding off his stool to go meet her before he could fully process what he was doing.

He knew why his legs and heart always carried him to women like that, and it was stupid. Most men that came from that bar would have told Douglas that it was stupid upfront and advised him to stay the hell away from the fairer sex with decades of heartbreak and regrets to back their words, but he was a stupid man for other reasons that they would never know. It wasn't lust that drove him; it was adrenaline and adventure. There had been no great fuck-up in his life that a woman got him into that Douglas wanted to get out of, and he was confident that this woman, should she let him so much as speak to her, would be no different.

While throwing a murmur about some tab behind him and the door open in front of him, Douglas was primed for this night-altering encounter. He was ready to change his god'damned life again because he had options. But when he stared right into the face of the fearless young woman he couldn't help but compare all others to, Douglas knew he wasn't prepared for anything that was to come.

After all, there was no such thing as an eased mind when it came to being in the presence of Samus Aran.