Deep within the streets of Brightmoor, the woman who had blasted that drug peddler's brains out would be sitting on a chair within a rather small bar - the area wasn't really well lit, and the place was rather quiet as well. In fact, the only noise that could be heard was music coming from the radio, which effortlessly drowned out the light humming coming from that age-old air-conditioner. The music...Light Club. Blizzard. It was always one of her favorites. She was staring down at the bartender's table, lazily swinging her legs back and forth. There was an empty shot glass beside her, but judging by the miniscule amount of whiskey in her glass, she must've taken a swig from it. She had this blank expression on her face, but it's not like she was disturbed or anything. In fact, she looked more bored and zoned out if anything.
She then heard the sound of a door opening, and with that, she suddenly snapped back to reality as she tilted her head up and shifted her attention to the left side of the bar - she saw a relatively aged man walk through the opened door before it closed itself shut behind him. He looked to be in his sixties, and it certainly does seem that way, judging by the Mexican handlebar mustache that he had. While he had a full head of hair, it was mostly grey as well, with only a few strands of it being black. He was wearing your stereotypical bartender suit, and while he also wore a pair of matte black shoes, it looked to be in a rather dog-eared condition - it must be the only pair of shoes that he has.
He walked into the other end of the table before coming to a stop when he was standing before the woman, and with that, he sat himself down on a chair as he leaned against it before folding his arms and speaking up in a rather tired but gruff tone.
"Another busy day, I'm guessing? Whose name did you cross off the kill list this time?"
The woman let out a groan in response as she leaned against her chair moments after he did, and with that, after one drawn out yawn, she answered his question in a somewhat half-hearted manner.
"Eh, in all honesty, I'm too lazy to tell ya. All I can say, though, is that another drug dealer is off the streets now. Yeah, it's just one, but one's better than none, right?"
"Yes, I suppose you're right. You know, I've heard about your antics in the other districts of Detroit. Word of mouth tends to spread really quickly along these dreary alleyways. I'm surprised you chose to mess with the Pathfinder's loansharking and extortion acts for a while in Osborn before you chose to deal with the drug problem here in Brightmoor. It's not doing enough to hinder those crazies, but you're definitely doing something, and it's making a few people believe again...it's nice to have that feeling again. But now I'm wondering, though...why do you only choose to make yourself a nuisance for the gang?"
The woman remained silent for a good moment, with her attempting to think of a good response to his question as she tapped her fingers against the table. It took a good minute for her to make a response she thought was quite understandable.
"If I choose to stay in one place for too long, I'll end up getting caught. So I choose to deal with the problems that the Pathfinder is letting loose on Detroit bit by bit, district by district. I only choose to become a nuisance now so that later on, I can do things in a larger scale. Gotta make the people believe so that they can learn to stand on their own."
"Heh, you're sounding like a superhero here, you know. Making people believe...that's actually quite noble. Not everyone wants to do something like that, given how the whole place is drowned with fear and paranoia. No one can even dream of standing up against the likes of those lunatics...god knows what happens to the unfortunate souls who have been kidn*pped by some of their gangsters. Their masks alone strike fear into many people. But it's not that what you're doing has been completely pointless..."
"In all honesty, I don't consider myself a hero. I don't even know if what I'm doing is heroic. I'm doing bad things to get good things done...many people would not condone killing sometimes. They can support it, but I'm sure if given the opportunity, they would find it difficult to pull a trigger."
She let out a sigh, with her leaning forward again as she stared down at the table and rested her forearms on them. She looked to be...somewhat disturbed this time round.
"A lotta stuff happened which made me who I am now. This...cold individual who has become so accustomed to firing a weapon. To hurting people. I'm used to it...numb to their cries. It's rather scary to see what I have become, really. If my past self were to look at me now...how would she react? Scared? I like to think so, but at this point, I've dissociated myself from the past a long time ago."
The bartender's expression changed to that of concern upon hearing what she thought about herself, and with that, he let out a sigh as he leaned forward as well, placing a hand to her shoulder as he tried to speak up in an attempt to boost her spirits.
"Sure, what you're doing isn't exactly good, but you always have good intentions in mind. Any person with skills like yourself would choose to join the Pathfinder and serve them, but you're different. And yeah you use guns like they do, they kill people like you, but they kill innocents. You don't. I hope you realize that. At the end of the day, justice has to be dealt to those kinds of people. Now, that doesn't mean you should be weaponizing your past trauma, but when you do move on from those dark times, they'll be gone."
The woman remained silent, with her contemplating everything that he had said before letting out a small chuckle. She seemed to like his attempt at trying to comfort her.
"Jeez, you sound like someone who's done something like this before. You really got a way with words, you know that?"
"The many untold benefits of being a bartender, you know - you have a tendency to hear a lot of stories from different kinds of people, and sure, while I've not heard an experience like yours until now, I've definitely heard something...somewhat similar before, to a certain extent."
"...those cretins took everything from me that day. My parents, my home, my livelihood...everything. They were desperate to find a way to keep their lives afloat, and they made the decision to trust the gang as a last resort. They were fine, for a little while, but then they started pestering us, and then they began threatening us, and just like that, they burned everything down and took my parents away after they couldn't handle their loansharking methods. I had hidden myself amidst all the chaos...but I couldn't save them...I know they're still out there, for sure..."
The bartender remained mostly quiet, with his head slightly tilted downward as he tried to comprehend her words - once he had fully understood them to the best of his ability, he let out a slightly energy-fueled huff as he stood himself up, cracking his knuckles as he spoke up.
"You know what, you could use a drink to help calm your nerves. You feeling like another shot of Jack Daniels, or is there something that will tickle the tongue tonight?"
She frowned a little in response to his question, letting out a groan as she looked up to the bartender with a tired expression.
"You know what, just improvise. Getting real tired of just Jack Daniels...need something new in my life."
He raised an eyebrow upon listening to her response before cracking a small smile - from there, he turned around and grabbed a few bottles of alcoholic drinks from the shelves which were behind him. He also got himself some ice cubes as well as some limes. From there, he crafted her a drink for her to taste, and as expected, he pulled it off with great skill and flair, displaying his experience as a bartender. After a good few minutes, he poured his concoction into a glass before serving it to the woman. He looked quite prideful, judging by the expression on her face.
"I call this one, the Spilled Change. Don't ask why, that's just a placeholder. I'm...still trying to think of a proper name for this one."
"Psh, don't worry about it. Now let's see how this tastes..."
With that, she took the glass off the table before taking a sip from it, and when she did, she let out a shiver before letting out a huff followed by a bit of heavy laughter. After she had gotten a good taste of the drink, she set it back down on the table as she let out a sigh while she leaned back against the table with a smile on her face.
"Damn, talk about a sudden shock back to life. You really outdid yourself this time, old man."
"Heh, never ignore the expertise of someone who has done their job for a few decades."
"Eh, fair enough. I've only been doing this whole vigilantism thing for...what, only a few months now?"
"Almost a year now, actually. I still remember when you managed to save my bar from being razed to ashes by those mobsters after I wasn't able to deal with their cruel interest rates."
"Gotta find a place to drink, ya know? Consider yourself lucky that you were the closest one that I could find - besides, they were nothing but targets to me, anyway. Sorry if you took a long time to clear up the mess though, the bar must've smelt disgusting after I was done here."
"Eh, it's fine. A small price to pay so that those gangsters don't touch this place again. At least for now."
After their momentary conversation, she finished up the rest of his drink before getting off her chair, placing her hands to her table as she stared down at the ground before speaking up.
"Well, I guess this is my cue. I'm sure that those gangsters know of my act by now...I can't stay here for much longer. I'm sure you know that."
"I suppose I have...I hate that it has come to this, though. You having to constantly be on the move and all. You think you can come back for a drink again one day?"
"I guess we'll never know, old man. Until then, try to keep this place open, will ya?"
"I'll...see what I can do."
Upon listening to the bartender's assurances, she looked up at him, giving him an approving nod before turning away from him and preparing to make her leave. Before she left completely, however, the bartender posed one last question, just as she was about to reach for the door.
"Where exactly will you go to next?"
The woman remains quiet, tilting her head to the side so that she could look at him before speaking up.
"Who knows. I go where the wind takes me, I guess. I'm not going back to Osborn yet, and I don't think I should stick around here any longer. If I'm going to assume, I'll probably find myself somewhere in Warrendale or whatever neighborhood is near that place in particular. The Eastern Market, though...I can't touch that place. That's where much of the Pathfinder influence is..."
"I guess that makes sense. I heard they have the Fox Theater as their base of operations, at least from whisperings and hearsay, anyway. Very little goes in and very little goes out of Eastern Market."
"In that case, I'll try Warrendale first. I don't know why, but it feels like I should."
"Well, if you're leaving Brightmoor immediately, all I can say is...good luck. And be careful."
She looked away from him at that moment, and while he couldn't see it, she cracked a small grin as she nodded slightly in response to his words.
"...don't worry. I'll be okay."
With that, she took her leave, walking through the entrance door as the bartender was left alone once more in the building. When she left the grounds, he looked down on his table upon realizing that she had left him something before she got a move on - money.
He let out a semi-distressed sigh upon seeing the change that she left behind, though he would end up cracking a small grin before taking the money off the table afterward.
"Good intentions in mind..."
He thought to himself before walking away with the money in his hand, cutting off the electricity and locking up the doors. Once all that was out of the, way, he left the bar the same way he went in. The bar was back to being completely silent once more...no music, no noise, nothing. It was rather sad, honestly. That woman was one of the very few regulars that he had...
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As she drove through the streets of Brightmoor, it was clear that there was a lot going through her mind, even if her helmeted face didn't show much. She was very much aware that she can't keep doing this forever...if she did, they would inevitably catch her at some point. And who knew what could happen after that. As much as she wanted all of this to end...this was going to take her a long time for her to make that happen. Wanting to get her mind away from such a terrible thought, she sped up her motorcycle, with her blazing through the streets and hitting the M-8 highway in order to get to Warrendale as quickly as she could.
The M-8...what was once a busy road was now barren and lifeless. The asphalt ruined, cracks prevalent and evident. It didn't help that it was a cloudy night as well while she drove, so not even the moonlight could hope to provide a speck of illumination to the road that now displayed itself before her. The only thing that accompanied her on these hallowed grounds were roadblocks and semi-rusted signboards by her sides. Quite the comforting view that she had.
As she drove down the highway, making sure to avoid whatever mess was in her way, she then heard something behind her that immediately sent her vigilance through the roof. She could hear the revving of another motorcycle. Then two. Then three more. She immediately tilted her head to the side to see just what was going on, and upon seeing a slew of bikers after her, she could feel her heart rate rise. She already knew who they were - the animal masks gave it away. Who else could it ever possibly be?
They were still a great distance away from her, but given how their headlights were getting brighter and how they were inching closer and closer with each passing second, they weren't planning on keeping it that way. Of course they weren't.
With that, she quickly cranked up the speed of her vehicle, with the rest of the riding mobsters following suit as they chased her down the dead, barren road.
"About time they showed up..." She thought to herself whilst cracking a grin.