Statement: It would seem this place is devoid of meatbags.

*Walks up* Can I have Arena Keeper?

*An old pirate stands outside humming an old sea shanty, the walks solemnly away*

I need a job, heard you were hiring spaceship mechanics?

I need a room for one

*Stands behind the bar waiting for customers*

Is the position for spaceship mechanic still available?

Is the position of manager still open?

[i]I sit in the security office. Over viewing the cameras lazily. I was tired and exhausted. But I enjoyed the change of pace. Normally, things were fast, quick, like greased lightning. Sawyer was out wandering the halls. I pass over the camera watching door 115, I sit there for a few minutes. Remember what an old friend ha mentioned about that room. Noble, he had told me. Noble had been a good man. He met an untimely death, but then again, so did so many others. Ryder, Cali, Kyle, they all met deaths too early. I switch over, continuing to cycle through the cameras. I hear Sawyer enter from the door, and spin around in the chair. [/i] Hey, Nate. "Sup. Look, how about I take the camera duty for a while? You need some time to walk. Go on, I'll take the duty." [i]Sawyer looked at me. I thought about saying no for a minute. Sawyer had been my friend since basic back at Freelancer. He was not one to take "no" for an answer. Do I begrudgingly relented. I stood up, and nodded, walking out of the semi-dark room into the well-lit hallway. I start to pace among the halls, running into the occasional customer. My footsteps making a soft tapping noise against the floor. I kept my hand instinctively at my side, near my .44 Magnum revolver. This had been a gift from my dad. It was my only memory of him. He had died early on in my childhood, and my mother had been abusive. So I went out into the streets of Saint Louis, where I learned to fight, to talk tough, and to kill. One I turned 18, I was approached by Freelancer. That's when my military career started. I turned back into the task at hand. Hearing loud voices coming from the bar. Or, at least, louder than usual. I pick up the pace, approaching the bar, I enter. What I saw was a man holding a shattered glass bottle in the direction of a man on the floor, who was already bleeding badly. I push through the crowd, just as the drunk enough man starts to approach the other guy, I grab his shoulder and whirl him around. [/i] No killing in the bar. [i]I nail him just below the eye in a savage right cross, shattering 3 teeth and bruising him. He falls like an empty potato sack, and to my surprise, springs back up. He's scowling at me. It wasn't my job to be liked. It was my job to keep things secure. So, I stood there, and let him come at me. He was sloppy, his footing was off and his stance was poor. I waited. He took the first swing at me, where I grabbed his wrist and twisted it, making him drop the bottle. It hits the floor, shattering. I then sweep my feet from behind his, trapping him, his head collides with the floor, and he is knocked unconscious. [/i] Somebody get the medical personnel. [i]Minutes later, both men are taken to the medbay. And I continue pacing the halls of this building. [/i]

*wicka wicky wocka*