Young Writers Society

Deadman too noticed all of the back corners and moved up to the counter at a bar stool. He sat there with his head down, and took his mask off. Underneath was just a normal face, with no scars whatsoever. However the face was of a defeated and deeply troubled man. He wanted nothing but to relax, but he knew it wouldn't be too long before a new job opened up.

Not long after he finished his juice, a hooded figure walked up and spoke a few brief words to Deadman. Before he turned away he put a paper on the counter. Deadman Quickly grabbed it, and the hooded figure left. Now Deadman knew he had a job, and this is one that he couldn't refuse. He threw some money on the counter and thanked Nate for the drink and the hospitality. On his way out the door he slipped his mask back on. He was off on another quest, this time it could be his last.

*Strolls in lazily*

"Hey, can I get a Ginger ale?"
"But aren't you too young for that?"
"I don't care!" I reply impishly catching the attention of quite many people.
"Here you go" *carefully hands me a large mug of ale*
*gulps it down guickly without putting the mug down and wipes off the ale moustache with the back of my palm* "BRUp! Ah that was nice~!"

TTYF saunters nonchalantly into the tavern, casually ordering a pan galactic gargle blaster, on the rocks.

Bug swings in Tarzan-style from a second-story window, but doesn't scream because her teeth are chattering. "I-I-I'll h-h-have a h-h-hot ch-ch-chocol-late, p-p-please." Then she sniffles and continues. "I-It's t-t-too c-cold for w-w-world d-d-domination."

"It is never too cold for word domination."
I down my Gargleblaster.

Rhia stumbles out from a quickly fading blue phonebox, hair done up in victory rolls, dressed like she stepped straight out of the 40s. Maybe she did...

She whirls about, realizing that the mysterious box is gone. With a frustrated sigh, she heaved herself up onto a barstool, giving everyone the look around.

Erg, tea, maybe?

*quietly enters the tavern*

"What's your poison?"
"My what?"
"Your poison?"
"Still didn't get you there."
"Your poison!"
"Um...isn't this a tavern?"
*Bartender silently curses*
"In other words, what the heck are you gonna drink!"
"Oh, I get you. You had me thinking there a second. You are funny! Well, I'll have the strawberry soda, please."
"We are out."
"The root beer float?"
"Out!"
"The ginger ale?"
"Out!"
"The iced tea."
"I didn't know we had ice--never mind! Yeah, we're out of that too."
"The diet--"
"Out!!!"

*Silently Leaves*

I suggest someone fires him. He just lost a very valuable customer.
*crosses arms and walks away*

*Walks in with robber's face mask on, orders a Coke, then walks out without paying

Looking shadily over @verser,
"Erm, I've got a police call box...erm, somewhere. And, er, one of my mates is a police woman...well, erm, kind of. Should I..."

She trails off, noticing she is the only one who noticed the shady coke-thief. She Shrugs, and carries on with her tea, with a mumbled "Nah, my days been too long"

By now, Bug has retreated from the counter and sits right in front of a fire. She wishes her cat were there to cuddle with her, but doesn't want to go back into the cold to get him. She continues sipping her hot chocolate delicately.

*throws a cockroach at the bartender

"Mr.Roach over here just took your job."

*Enters again, silently wishing that the old bartender was fired*

"A good 'ol glass of Sprite, please?"

Deadman re-enters the Tavern, and takes his mask off. He looks grimly over at the others harassing the Bartender. He is a little upset that people would treat Nate in such a way. He walks up to the bar and takes a seat. He asks for a grape soda, considering they serve no alcoholic beverages. He hunches over at the counter and seems to be reminiscing on the job he was previously sent on.

He had not found what he was looking for on his previous mission, but he still accomplished it. He would have to continue the search for what he had lost at another time. In the meantime he would have to sit in the tavern and just try to remember what exactly had happened.

Hunched over his drink he sat, completely alone, ignoring everyone else in the Tavern. To be alone, forever alone in this world.

"Why do you go on, my dear friend I should know,
Your souls on the line of a trigger
The blood on your hands can never be erased,
But know that you will always be with me"

Hunched up in a corner dressed in rags sat a oddity among oddities, silent and alone, without a drink or meal; instead thick sheets of paper covered his table. For the first time since the hours he arrived he started speaking, half in song, moaning the strange lyrics out almost tunelessly.

"We change up our tunes and we step into line
My heart is in line of your trigger,
My eyes are my sin as you walked the dark line,
But I could not stop anything near me"

He dropped his pin, a makeshift ball of plastic and ink held together by tape, he leaned over to see his tool broken, the flimsy makeshift pin spattered with junk hidden under the tables, and what ever ink he soaked into the mess leaking into the boards. His hand twitched once, twice as his singing faltered; his eyes closed as he pulled himself back up, his twitchy hands with nowhere to go.

"Forgiveness is best when the wounds are still fresh
There is nothing to forgive our sins,
The stains on the dirt will never be absorbed
As long as your souls on that trigger."