Even though it’s in lowtown instead of Touristville, The Princess Bar is popular with Westerners and folks of that ilk. I suppose the idea is that the people that go there like to pretend that they’re being more worldly and adventurous than the rubes that stick to the tourist areas. I tend to avoid the Princess Bar myself, there’s just a weird vibe there. I can’t explain exactly why but I never feel comfortable there. I think a lot of the local non-local super people like to hang out there, maybe that’s why.
I do go there on the third afternoon of each month though (barring assassination attempts or what have you) because from two to four PM they have a two for one drink special and the staff doesn’t seem to care that I eat several pounds of bar snacks. It’s usually not too crowded because even in Madripoor there are not a lot of people getting basted off their ass at two in the afternoon, but there’s always a handful of people in there taking advantage of their generous promotion like I am doing.
Last time I was there, I was surprised to see a face that I recognized – Madripoor is the crossroads of the world but it’s still a big world and I’m a long way from home. I couldn’t remember where I knew him from but I was sure that I had seen his face on a poster. He was a handsome first nation fellow with a weird kind of buzzcut, that’s what really stood out for me because it seems like long hair is more standard for first nation guys. He was sitting in a booth nursing a 7 and 7 and staring at nothing. I knew it was rude but I went over anyway, it’s so rare that I run into anyone from back home that I couldn’t help myself.
“Sorry to bother you, but are you an actor? I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”
For a moment it seemed like he was going to blow me off, but eventually he spoke “You sound like you’re from the CS. You probably saw me on promotional material for Sector 8.”
I snapped my fingers “Oh shit, yeah, you were like a police sponsored super team right? They were really going for a diversity thing right? It was you, a black dude, a Hispanic dude, and a lady on all the posters? And then there was one white guy in the back and you could only see half of his face?”
“Yeah, the marketing guys thought it was important.”
“What happened with all that? I felt like there was a media blitz about it for months and then it just disappeared.”
“Los Alamos terrorists kidnapped some kids from Michigan, the college not the state, and they sent us in to rescue them. They all died, as did everyone else on the team besides me. Well, Scott lived, sort of. So the project wasn’t a rousing success to put it mildly.”
“So, you’re like a globetrotting mercenary now?”
“After I got fired from Sector 8 I tried to be a solo hero. My first night out, I stepped in front of a guy shooting up his ex-girlfriend’s house. A bullet ricocheted off me and went into a house and hit an old lady in the foot. After that I decided the hero thing wasn’t for me. I went to Kachin so they could do tests on me to see if they could recreate my powers. They couldn’t, so after a while they gave up and dumped me here in Madripoor.”
“Kachin? Isn’t that where all the heroin comes from? And you were trying to help them make more super people?”
He sighed “It seemed like a good idea at the time. ALL the heroin doesn’t come from there.”
“So what do you do here?”
He held up his glass “You’re looking at it.”
“Fair enough. I’ve been told that Duke Eaglevane is involved with Kachin somehow, do you know anything about him? I’m trying to kill him you see, revenge and so forth, but I’m having trouble getting started. Revenge isn’t as easy as they make it seem in the movies.”
He shook his head “I don’t know anything about Kachin or Duke Eaglevane or anything else.”
“There seems to be an abnormal number of bitter washed-up super soldiers from the US here, but you’re the first I’ve met from the CS.”
“A super-soldier? Like Angel you mean? God rest her soul. No, I had nothing to do with the military. I got my powers from touching a meteor.”
“Why did you touch a meteor?”
“I ask myself that all the time.”
“Well, uh, my friends and I are kind of a super team of sorts. You want to do stuff with us?”
“Okay, no problem. Do you want to buy me a ton of food and booze and cigarettes? And I mean a TON of food.”
“Not really no.”
“Alright well, good luck with fading away or drinking yourself to death or whatever you plan is. If I had a phone I’d give you the number in case you change your mind, but I don’t so I guess if you need me just look around. If a building is collapsing or people with motorcycles are ramping from roof to roof, I’m probably around that. Do you ever talk to anyone back home? Do you know how the Tropics are doing this season?”
Get the lady an update on the Tropics, for petes sake!
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