Young Writers Society

I got back up and healed myself. Next thing I knew Mercury was right next to me. "What is this about?" I asked.

Kualat

"So how's life?" The man asked. I barked with laughter, gesturing to the latest altercation which was taking place on the tiers above. The assault rifle caught my eye. Anything would be better than this lousy employment.
I shook my head, and focussed on mixing the man's drink. Isatopic Ioga. The bloke was either mad or had been drinking already. It was a smuggler's drink, black, thick, and horrible. I served him the viscous liquid in a squat glass. After a moment's thought, I poured a shot of tequila and slid it to him as well.
"To get the taste out of your mouth," I mumbled, half-inclined to let him suffer the Ioga. Paint thinner would have been more effective at purging the oversweet taste.
The man downed the Ioga, then the tequila. I waited, ready to catch him when he passed out. Seconds passed. Nothing. I found myself bordering on disappointed.
Slowly, a grin broke out on his face. He held out his mug; "Top me up, 'keep,"
I obliged. This one could drink.

Ariele

I slipped in past the bouncers and sat at the bar, hoping someone would show interest in me. It was a long shot, but companionship was scarce in my profession.
The man on the adjacent stool downed a thick black drink I couldn't identify. The look on the bartender's stretched face was priceless. The Kaleesh refilled the man's glass. I flicked my hair to get his attention, blonde streaks flashing before my eyes.
"What'll it be?" The bartender's voice dripped with a jaded boredom born of working in one place for far too long.
"Once Reactor Core," I plucked the name out of the air, not fully comprehending just what a stupid thing I was saying. The bartender seemed to agree.
"And here I was thinking Isatopic Iogas were a bad idea..." the bartender mumbled, mixing the necessary ingreedients for my ridiculously narcotic drink. I knew I had no chance of leaving on my own legs, but it was the first day's leave I'd had all year and there was no way I would be staying at home watching holodramas. Being a Transporter Agent was a stressful job; alcohol had proven itself to be the antidote.
The Reactor Core arrived. It gave off smoke similar to dry ice, and bubbled ominously. The bartender eyed me, waiting to see my reaction. Somehow I knew I wouldn't let him down.

I remembered what the robot was thinking, I can read minds. "And you have a wife?!" I asked agrily. Mercury looked at me nervously. "And you were Hitting on me?" I also entered.

Mercury

I scratched my eyebrow. Wow, this is the first time I've been caught before. No matter. "Well..." I paused, before pulling a smoke grenade from my belt. I pulled the pin and dropped it, before hightailing it out of the club. I knew it wouldn't slow the project, but it would save me from having to explain things to Lola. I couldn't win all the time. I heard the rapid clinking of the droids footsteps, approaching me faster and faster. I flicked out my comms device.

"Omicron, I'll be needing that evac right about now", I panted. I sprinted out of the club into the night air, Project 98 hot on my tail.

Red

I was humoured to see the face of the bartender, the Ioga was a favourite of mine, yet many criticised Mobians for their horrible taste. The chaos at the dancefloor had stopped, and the purportraitors had left the club before security had arrived, luckily for them. I ordered two more Ioga's, then decided to stop playing with the light stuff. "Let's go for a Quatum Bowel Quaker" I laughed, licking my lips.

The Kaleesh's eyes widened, and his mouth gaped slightly. The Bowel Quaker was aptly named, many a being had suffered its humiliating wrath, but as a cyborg I didn't have a bladder any more. As he turned to prepare the drink I looked at a woman downing a Reactor Core. If she was a human like I thought, she was in for a morning from hell, human metabolism wasn't designed for some of the cocktails in clubs nowadays, and a Reactor Core was one of them. Holding back the torrent of hilarity, I turned to my drink. It looked spectacular. It hissed violently and gave of an awfully venomous aura."Beautiful skills my dear barkeep, have you ever considered becoming a proffesional mixologist?" I queried.

I frowned And looked frustrated at Dean. "Dont start..." I said as he was about to say something. "C'mon baby, just chill and lets get together? Aight?" I rolled my eyes at him. "Not In a million years." I said turning back to the bar. He sat next to me. "Please go away..." I said burying my head into my hands. Oh, I am so overwhelmed. Its not the first time someone's diched me before...

Kualat

I glanced at the Mobian. "I am," I let the point lie while I served a waiting Slitheen.
"So why are you working in this dump?" I knew the question was coming.
"I like the atmosphere," I lied. I had come up with a thousand excuses, but I could never quite explain why I came back to this place night after night. Perhaps it was the atmosphere. Perhaps the patrons- I looked over at the slowly dissipating cloud of smoke- or perhaps not.
The woman at the bar finished her reactor core. I caught her head as it dropped towards the bar, still pouring another drink with my other hand. Working here was many terrible things, but dull it was not.

Red

I laughed. "Well" I said, with a complimenting tone "it must be good to know that you can switch clubs whenever you feel like it". I took a look at the girl sat next to me, now her head was buried in the counter. "Humans" I chuckled.

The Kaleesh rested an arm against the counter and sighed. "Another hour 'til the end of my shift".

"Look on the bright side: you've got me" I sniggered, as I knocked back the Bowel Quaker, frowning as the bitterness bit my mouth.

Mr. White

I slipped into the nightclub, perhaps trying too hard to be inconspicuous in my long grey coat and brown hat. I quickly made my way through to the bar, ordering from the bar a suspicious-looking cider. Asking no questions, I gulped down a mouthful, enjoying the taste of alcohol. Of course, I had no intention of becoming intoxicated; the only reason I was even in here was to deliver a package to a transporter agent, Amalie Swan. I've been in the business long enough to guess that that wasn't her real name, and nor was it likely to be the one she had given the bouncers at the door. All this assumed, of course, that she was even coming- it could easily be an Agency trap set to ensnare one of the increasingly scarce 'operators'.
I sat back, reassured as I leaned against the pistol kept hidden in the small of my back. A quick scan of the crowd revealed no obvious candidates; Amalie Swan had probably not arrived yet.
So began the waiting.



(If anyone wants to play Amalie then please do, I talk to myself enough in the real world!)

Kuat Niket

I came through the door and looked around. I brought my hand to my ear "Okay, I'm in position," I said into the earpiece. I decided to talk to some of the patrons, to see if they knew any information about the praetorians. I blinked up to the upper level scaring a couple, I apologised and continued walking. I sat down at a table scanning the crowd to see if any high importance targets were in here. I doubted it, but then I wasn't the boss. After a few minutes, out of boredom, I decided to go get a drink. I got up and walked over to the bar, and by walked I mean blinking once again. The barkeeper, some sort of alien, didn't register any surprise by me turning up out of thin air.

"What'll it be?" The barkeep asked.

"Just water," I replied.

"A non-drinker," He chuckled humouressly. He then pointed at a unconsciouss guy drooling all over the counter. "This guy tried our hardest hitting stuff."

"Thanks, I'll remember that," I said warily. After taking my drink and paying for it I went back to my table, and started scanning the crowd once more.



(Yes, I know my character uses magic but I created him for a sci-fi story where magic also exists. Also blinking is like short ranged teleportation, that is almost instant.)

Lola-

I looked over at the new guy at the bar. I looked over at Dean. "Just go." he smiled not wanting to. He put his arm around me and I flipped him Again having him land on a table. "C'mon babe, just let me stay. " I rolled my eyes. "Get out of my face and you wont be staying Alive." I mumbled.

Kualat

"Sir, I advise you do do as the lady asks," I told the man lying in the broken pieces of a table. I admired his persistence, but I well knew that persistence alone was no way to win a woman, much less one capable of throwing a fully grown man with such ease.
Whether he replied or not, I didn't care; I had vocalised my opinion, and could in no way be held accountable for any injuries he might sustain from then on.
Happy that I would be receiving my full pay packet at the end of the month, I continued serving to a handful of customers who had lingered perhaps too long at the bar, judging by the strands of saliva and spilled alcopops which coated their chins and clothes.

Lola-

I laughed. "Yeah thats the smart thing to do." He got back up and dusted hiself off, before winking at me. His Justin Bieber hairdoo was just making me barf. "Really?" I rolled my eyes again, pushing him away from me.

Red

Humans I humoured in my head. For such a sentient being they often acted astonishingly ignorant and oblivious, especially this man, who's impressive immunity to humliation disgusted me. This punk had no honour, and to be honest such people I deem very pathetic. A mysterious man appeared at the bar, ordering a quick shot of vodka, then propping himself against the deep purple wall.

A few seconds later another guy just appeared next to me, enducing no effect in mysel, nor the barman; I guessed he had seen many patrons with such abilities. The man ordered a glass of water, then strolled away; I could see what the barkeep meant by having a certain atmosphere, but I could see on his face that it was a lie; nothing slipped past my eyes.