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Nic was nodding off on the ride when the announcement came.

A mouthful of mumbled swears slipped like drool from his lips, the man lifting his head and blinking bleary eyes in the sunlight.
Distant words echoed in his ears, soon overtaken by the sudden roar of engines flaring into life.

His eyes went to the sky, watching as craft after craft lifted themselves to the heavens.

His first thought was, Where were the authorities?
Clearly, they were breaking the travel ban.
His next was to wonder if a bounty would be placed on the ships due to the lax security, and whether or not he'd be able to grab himself a temporary license here and chase 'em down.

A finger drove into one of his ears as he straightened his spine, stretching on the robotic horse, which was still trotting into a wall, whatever gears that turned in its body grinding loudly from the effort.
Flicking the wax off his finger, he sighed and turned the horse around, casually eyeing the hole that it had left in the wall.

Might as well check up on the docks, just in case.

After about a dozen minutes or so, he found the flood of travelers driving him along towards the warehouse where his own ship was stored.


Without ado, the man opened up his metal box of a ship, loading in his horse and closing the door behind him.
Taking the package from his steed's saddlebags, he carried it up with him to the ship's small bridge.

Falling into the familiar ripped cushion of the captain's chair, he dropped the package on a small cabinet beside him, and geared up the ship.

Within minutes he was blasting off through the atmosphere, leaving the planet behind.

Once he was well into space and on his way towards a tunnel out of this system, the man removed the contents from his prized package.
A tall green bottle filled with a dark, glimmering liquid.
He popped the cork off, pushing the drink to his lips as it began to bubble over onto his overalls.

Ah, absynthe; one of the greatest alcohols in existence.
Hopefully his system, or some other nearby system, would lift their ban on it soon, and he wouldn't have to worry about heading so far away again.
After downing this last shot, Nic began to push himself to his feet.
After handing the first tip to the bartender, he knew he didn't have much left for more than the few shots he'd taken now.

Fingers slid into his pocket to remove what few change he had left on him, paying off the drinks he'd taken.
He didn't much want to stay any longer, especially if the metal man intended on continuing the conversation that he'd so dumbly bothered to even respond to.

A shout sent Nic's hand gripping tight around his pistol's holster, eyes watching as a man slid on wobbly legs out the bar's door.
Trying to be casual, Nic slipped closer to the entrance, counting off ten seconds before leaving the bar himself, just after another man had exited.

Stepping around the body of the shouting man who'd apparently passed out on the sidewalk, Nic unhitched his horse and swung his leg over, patting the saddlebag which, thankfully, still possessed the bulging package he'd left in there.
Just another reason he shouldn't be sticking around the bar for too long.

Once more activating the horse with his fingerprint code, he turned the horse around and once more headed off into the streets.
Nic's fingers rapped absentmindedly over the counter's wooden surface, eyes staring straight ahead at the alcoholic display behind it, unwilling to take a closer look around until he's had at least three shots of whiskey to calm his nerves.

As the bartender made the rounds, filling up his glass once more in passing, someone took to the seat beside him.
Through the corner of his eye he could glimpse something metallic, and so in haste he downed the shot before flicking both eyes around, head turning only the slightest bit.

His fingers wrapped tighter around the glass when he found himself looking at another metal man.
Had the thing been human, Nic wouldn't have found its lean figure so imposing, but wrapped as it was in protective armor, and with those clawless lobster-like arms...well, he found himself searching more for routes of escape than of triumph, should this guy get the notion to go after him.
Regardless, his other hand slipped casually down to his side, where his cooper revolver sat holstered to his waist; he had no idea if it would have any effect, but perhaps a more fleshy head sat underneath that ridiculous helmet.

Within seconds of Nic giving the stranger some acknowledgement of having seen him, the guy was off spouting nonsensical advertisements.
As the stranger went on, Nic began to lift the glass and tap it against the countertop, hoping to catch the bartender's attention.
He was going to need the whole bottle for this.

When the guy finished his spiel, Nic seemed only to stare at him in confused exasperation for a minute, trying to make sense of what had just been said to him.
Finally, he shook his senses back, and told the stranger, "Sounds like yer the one in a pickle here, fella."
He gave a brief, gruff laugh, while his shot glass was filled up a third time.
"Seems right cowardly of ya, turnin' on yer own body like that."
He lifted the shot glass to his lips.
In topic title 2 mos ago Forum: Test Forum
In topic title 2 mos ago Forum: Test Forum
In topic title 2 mos ago Forum: Test Forum
After hiking himself back aboard the rockethorse, Nic had left the parking lot to venture forth into the town itself.
Metal hoofs trotted loudly through the brick streets, the man's shoulders hunched in discomfort as his eyes flicked nervously at the area around himself, trying not to focus too much on all the strange atrocities around him as he searched for something to do, somewhere to go.

He didn't want to go too far in case the travel ban was lifted, or the garage at least reopened so that he could take a nap or SOMEthing in his spacecraft; but, at the same time, he didn't exactly want to stay in this town.
He circled and scanned the area around the docking bay, until he managed to find an older part of town that was relatively empty compared to the rest, which appeared as though it would be just the trip he needed to take.
It was almost like being in a different town entirely, in fact.

Brick roads turned to sloppy cobblestone paths with no sidewalks, the stylish buildings from behind now taking on something of a "ye olden" look, with stony walls and sloped wooden roofs.
The neighborhood seemed to be focused around a body of water -- whether sea or giant lake, he couldn't say -- with a few shoddy docks that seemed to have been left to the forces of nature.

He eyed a tugboat pulling out into the water as the road sloped downwards towards the shore, before turning his attention on the buildings around him.
The language here had shifted, enough so that there were even signs already written in solid English.
One such place caught his attention; it wasn't all that distinguishable from the buildings around it, save for a simple porch up front, but the advertisements on its front window could not be ignored.

Hitching and locking his vehicle to the porch's railing, the man stepped inside, both familiar and unfamiliar smells immediately greeting his nose.
Ah, the could be just what the doctor ordered.
A chug here, a sip there, and even that slimy lookin' feller over there might start seeming human to him.

Popping himself down on a steel beside the counter, he ordered the first thing that came to mind: fireball cinnamon whiskey.
In all honesty, he was surprised when the bartender pulled out a bottle and poured it into a glass for him, having assumed the area foreign enough that no one here might have even ever heard of such an alcoholic drink.
Nic wasted no time in dropping a tip for the bartender and then downing the first shot, throat tingling while he waited for a refill.
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