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Old 11-25-2010, 03:50 PM   #2
Hayward
Ronin Harrier
 
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Join Date: Dec 2008
Location: Chi Town
Posts: 818
FB Bar

Two figures stood pensively before the swinging, double-doors of the quaint, little tavern. A monochromatic, female wolfpup heeled patiently at the feet of the taller figure; its lolling tongue panting rhythmically. The black-clad teenager bent down and gently scratched the little wolfpup under her chin. “I know you’re thirsty, girl,” he said. “It’s been a while since our last break. Maybe the barkeep will be…generous enough…to share something with us.” In response, the wolfpup playfully licked her trainer’s hand.

Standing again, the trainer Ben Hale strained his ears in an effort to better gauge the level of danger the drinking establishment posed. However, the muffled noise of conversation mixed with laughter, and the occasional cries of Pokemon issuing from within, didn’t appear to be threatening. Brow furrowed, he momentarily wondered if he and his companions had the right place after all. As he gazed uncertainly at the exterior of the rustic watering hole, the warning of the old, hooded traveler they had passed on the road the day before echoed in his mind.

“The FB Bar,” the gray-bearded stranger had said with a glint of mischief in his eye. “You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. I’d avoid that place if I were you…”

Out of money and out of food, Ben had inquired of each traveler they met where the nearest eatery was, and though the wizened, old man had told Ben of the FB Bar, he had also sternly warned him to stay away. At the time, Ben disregarded the brown cloaked drifter’s advice; he seemed like nothing more than a living “fossil” and Ben was thirsty. Thirstier than he had been in a long time. Powerfully thirsty. Now that Ben was face-to-face with the saloon, he felt certain the old-timer had just been paranoid. This place wasn’t dangerous. Just unique. Ben glanced at the small Meditite by his side, wondering what his diminutive partner was thinking. The Yoga Pokemon Medeo turned to Ben, a quizzical expression on his tiny face, and shrugged.

“Yeah, I agree, mate,” Ben casually remarked. “How bad can it be?” He nodded in the direction of the bar and whistled for Hyneo to follow them inside.

* * *

Creeeeaaaak. Creeeeaaaak. The double doors swung open noisily on their hinges and Ben could tell right away that although the FB Bar was packed with people and Pokemon now, it had not seen business in quite some time. Stepping inside the dimly lit chamber, he quickly surveyed the scene with his grey-green eyes as Medeo and Hyneo shuffled in behind him. In one corner of the bar, a girl with long, black hair and glasses sat next to a massive Rhydon. Both were drinking smoothies. Across the table from her, a young man in a green striped shirt sat with a tiny Ralts, while a dark-haired young man in a black hooded sweatshirt followed by a Rhyhorn was making his way towards the booth. Seated on stools at the counter were an Infernape, an Aipom, and a red-faced boy with a bloody nose. The most malevolent-looking Zangoose Ben had ever seen clambered impishly up and down the boy’s back. Her trainer winced in pain with each step the CatFerret took and Ben felt sorry for the boy’s discomfort.

At that moment, a newborn Sunkern whizzed past Ben and into the crowd of people in the center of the room. Ben quickly jumped back out of the way as its trainer frantically raced after it. Ben instantly recognized the boy as one of the other trainers who had arrived in the world of Fizzy Bubbles about the same time he had. A quick glance at the Nuzleaf lounging nearby confirmed his suspicion. The frantic trainer followed the Sunkern past a spiky-haired teenager and a bashful Larvitar sauntering around the room, and Ben bolted in shock to see that spiky-haired teenager was none other than the young millionaire, Wes Wallace, who’s Corphish Ben had looked after and who had graciously traded him an Eevee not too long ago.

His mouth dry with thirst, Ben strode to the bar and nodded at the burly man behind the counter. “What’ll it be, runt?” the bartender barked in a gruff voice.

“Three waters, please,” Ben replied sheepishly. “With ice.”

The brawny proprietor regarded Ben scornfully but handed him the drinks.

“They're free, right?” Ben asked tentatively. When the bartender nodded Ben continued, “Thanks… I’m kind of low on money.” This pathetic explanation was simply met with a snort of derision.

Not wanting to give the bartender time to change his mind, Ben scooped up the drinks and quickly retreated with Medeo and Hyneo to a secluded booth near the jukebox. The three friends made quick work of their “beverages” and relaxed while watching the other patrons. After a moment Ben glanced at the jukebox. “How ‘bout some music, mates?” he asked cheerfully. Medeo nodded his onion-shaped head in agreement while Hyneo happily wagged her tail. Ben rose to his feet and crossed to the music machine. Dragging a hand through his short, brown hair he briefly considered his options. After a moment of deliberation, he reached into the brown, canvas messenger bag slung over his shoulder, dug out two coins, and inserted the change into the slot on the front of the machine. He selected Coldplay’s “Talk” and pressed play

Last edited by Hayward; 07-05-2011 at 07:07 PM.
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