Just another day at work [open]

CLANK
"Oops!"

Eli stood from behind the bar, glancing from the spilled glass to the drunk that knocked it over. It was some new guy...
"S-sorry, sir..." the man mumbled, scratching his forehead as he peered towards the pissed off bartender. Sir?...It was obvious enough that the man thought he was one of those mind reading freaks, and that he himself wasn't one. It was an easy mistake to make, and in fact was often made by their kind when they played cautious. Eli made the most of it and threw the towel at the drunk, nodding towards the spill.
"Clean it up," Black growled before turning his back on the man.

The drunk stared blankly at Eli's back before doing as he was told. The man was either too drunk to argue, wanted another drink, was afraid of 'normals', or any number of other things that ran through a drunk man's mind in these dark times. Actually, Eli was almost hoping he would get angry and start a fight, but the man was reserved enough to keep his mouth shut when the bartender returned to pick up the towel. When he was close, the drunk stared at his face again.

"What'd...what'd you dotoyour eye?" he asked in a slur, making Eli crack his neck in irritation.
"Bottle opening accident....any other fuckin' questions, curious George?" Black asked, words dripping with hostility.
The man chuckled and shook his head, signaling for another beer. Eli brought him one before pouring himself a hard drink on the counter. No one gave a shit that he drank on the job. Hell, the majority of people around here did too. But he drank for more reasons than they did...he had a couple hundred more worries to drown out for a day...worries that he'd deal with later when the time was right. Killing people...no, killing animals wasn't exactly to be taken lightly. And they were animals...

Eli took a mouthful of rye, his good eye scanning the bar for any familiar faces. Familiar wasn't always good though. In fact, familiar faces had a nasty habit of bringing bad news.
The liquid burned down his throat and settled in his stomach, allowing the substance to smooth over his jagged thoughts.
The only times he was truly sober was when he was doing something a lot more illegal...

Quote :

Just to be clear, James does not actually appear in this post. It's just the most appropriate way to post a little incident that I think will open things up quite nicely and help us get to know your character. For this post, I'll play the part of some of James' lackeys- an intangible 'they.'

Liquor. Thought. Angst and disgust, all tangled up in the shadow of an inferiority and/or superiority complex. There were no lies between most Normals, but there was very little real honesty to be found in the emotional impulses that run like a river between them. To be drunk was to be naked, and to speak the truth without speaking. Differents were fucking disgusting and dangerous creatures, much like the proverbial monkey on the power lines. And here they were, in the fucking bar is if they deserved rights.

The fellows had been looking for trouble from the word go, and the frenzy they had come to was only a product of that. As they cruised by in the red Coalition Car, they cheered and yelled as one of them tossed a broken brick through the front window of the place. Fucking den of Differents, it made such a pleasant sound when the glass shattered. With renewed vigor, they cheered and yelled a bit more as they sped off again into the night and vanished. The fuckers would learn a thing or two about fear, and there was only excitement in knowing that this was only the beginning.

Wrapped up over the brick was the flier they had been posting all over town.

Eli tensed as he heard the window break. At first he thought it was another bar fight, but then he saw the shocked faces of Joe's regulars. He followed their eyes down to a familiar face... a familiar face wrapped around a fucking brick that just flew through his boss' window.
Charlie Owens stared at the object for a long time before asking the obvious question.
"What the hell was that?"

It was a flashback, in a way. History was repeating itself, and it'd continue to repeat itself. It had to end...one way or another it would.
The bartender leaned down and snatched the brick from the floor, staring at the flier.
"James Harvey's greeting wagon..." he uttered, glancing over at Joe, who just arrived on the scene.
The man gave out a long sigh, shaking his head at the flier.

"Eli...around back. Now," he instructed, disappearing to the rendezvous.
Black paused, looking at the damage one last time before lighting a cigar and following behind his boss.
Joe was waiting for him with crossed arms and a strange look on his face. Before Eli could speak, Joe interrupted him.
"You gotta take some time off work, Eli..." he said, his voice stern, yet soft.

Eli scoffed slightly, raising an eyebrow as he puffed on the cigar.
"You gotta be shittin' me, Joe..."
"'fraid not...Just until this scare goes away. You know about James Harvey...this was a warning, Eli. Next time he could raze the fucking place to the ground! I don't want to lose my business because of the people I hire...so I'm just gonna give you a couple weeks vacation...when he moves on, you come back in and work for me no problem. You gotta understand my side, Eli."

The bartender almost reached out and throttled Joe. He felt an anger surface in himself that ran deep, and it took everything he had to bite his tongue and hold himself back. After a moment of coldness, Eli offered a bitter smile.
"Your side, boss?...Well, after I'm starvin' out on my ass, you tell me all about your side..."
Joe continued to apologize and offer sympathy at Eli's back even as the different strode out into the bar again. The customers knew it in his face what had transpired, and no one said a word as the bartender grabbed a bottle of rum as he passed by the counter. He nudged the door open with his elbow, taking a puff of his cigar before swigging a mouthful of rum. Then he was gone.