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originally posted in:The New Dojo
12/17/2016 12:09:27 AM
66
[b][i]But Not Forgotten[/i][/b]
[i]"Movin' on is a simple thing
What it leaves behind is hard."
-Megadeth[/i]
[b]Inside one of the Dojo's Bars[/b]
[i]Jackson Wolfe sat silently at the end of the bar, a single shot glass before him, full of liquor. His expression was unreadable, his helmet on the table beside him, the menacing mask facing out, a dead giveaway as to his identity for those who knew him. He seemed to be fairly melancholy, silent, and deep in thought. The bar around him was empty, save for the bartender, who was busy wiping beer mugs and taking inventory. An old country song played on the jukebox situated on the far end of the room, the place feeling like an old-school western roadhouse.
Wolfe wasn't much of a drinker, and personally, he had never cared much for bars either, but even he couldn't say that alcohol wasn't a good way to drown his blues away. The Christmas season had been rough for him since his father had been killed, and even seven years later, it was a depressing time of year. He usually avoided the festivities, the people, the cheery music and the holiday spirit. Instead, the soldier sought splendid isolation, away from the world, and with his reputation, an old bar was the best place to hide. Few people really knew who he was, few needed to. Those that did know him knew what he was doing, and simply left him alone. Jackson wouldn't have wanted to see them anyways. Sometimes wolves needed to be alone. [/i]
[spoiler]Open[/spoiler]
English
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[b]mulligan opens the doors and sits down next to Wolfe, he then signals the bartender, who then brings him a dark red drink[/b] You know I'm not allowed to do anything about it but I'm sorry about what happened all those years ago.......*sips drink*
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[i]Wolfe spun his head around rapidly. He had no idea who this individual was, and how the individual knew him, he wanted to know. Jackson Wolfe was young, just twenty-two, clean-shaven and without scars. Unlike most soldiers, he wore his hair longer, covering his ears, as he had always done since he was young. It was a dirty blonde, wavy, and like Jackson, it looked to currently be a product of little sleep. His eyes were a greyish-blue, and unlike his expression, they conveyed a world of hurt and a blend of fiery anger.[/i] "How the hell do you know what happened?"
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Edited by SwarmIntellect: 12/19/2016 4:05:56 PMIt's a burden of mine......like I said, I'm not allowed to change it.....but I'm so sorry........ [u]i take another sip[/u] [b]i pull a small wrapped box out of my trench coat and place it on the bar beside you[/b]
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[i]Wolfe paid no attention to the box.[/i] "Why the hell are you looking into my past?" [i]He said, angrily.[/i]
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Edited by SwarmIntellect: 12/19/2016 4:15:30 PMBecause i was good friends with your father....whatever.....open it if you want, burn it if you don't.....but know it's from him..... [b]i finish my drink and walk out of the bar[/b]
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"Really, then? What was his name, his real name?" [i]Not only was Wolfe infuriated, he was immensely skeptical.[/i]
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[b]i stop[/b] He never told me, nor did I tell him my real name, we both thought it important should one of us get captured.....as had happened.....like I said burn it or open it, it's your gift after all...... [b]i walk out[/b]
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[spoiler]I fuсking love that song... A tout le monde A tout mes amis Je vous aime Je dois partir [/spoiler] [spoiler]Also, since this isn't the same Ole Wolfey and he don't wanna rip her head off... Not that I'd mind if it was considering her... upgrades, but still...[/spoiler] [i]Across the bar was a woman. Her hair was red as blood and her eyes were the same. She had more than a few empty beers in front of her, though she seemed nowhere near full-on drunk. Then she and a bartender got in a somewhat "heated" debate and she looked as if she was about to fry his dumb ass. Knowing her, she probably would.[/i]
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[i]Wolfe paid her little mind, not wanting to get involved in whatever disagreement was going on.[/i]
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[i] A familiar form sits on the stool next to him, resting her elbows on the counter and waving to the bartender to bring her a drink. [url=https://imgur.com/a/SnAOi]Riley[/url] had healed nicely over the past week or so, many of them just looking like bad scratches. One prominent one stood out, a cut that went over her left eye and hadn't healed as nicely..Jackson could tell it would scar. Her new outfit was..intriguing to say the least. Tight fitting leather pants paired with a revealing top, littered with knives and buckles. The outfit worked To the appeal of many of the men of the bar, but one sharp glance from her and the sight of the array of new weaponry on her made them quickly go back to their conversations. Her katana and wakizashi were nowhere to be seen, having been replaced by two matching swords over her back, and two wicked fighting knives at her hips. The newest and most noticeable thing about her though, was the fact her hair was no longer blue, but scarlet red. Seemed like Wilson would have to find a new nickname. [/i] "I love alcohol as much as the next girl, but you don't seem to be finding much enjoyment in it." [i] The bartender set a glass in front of her, a dark purple drink with a sharp scent to it: vodka. Cranberry, and vodka. Smelled like there was a lot more vodka than cranberry though. [/i]
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"I'm not much a fan of booze. Never have been." [i]He replied, looking over to her. His face as usual was blank, he seemed tired, out of it. His eyes conveyed a world of hurt, but they observed her none the less. No matter how depressed he was, he couldn't help but look at her. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd seen, and the new outfit accentuated that. Although he didn't show it, he was very intrigued by her red hair. It looked more natural, more proper on her.[/i]
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"Why'd it get your interest today then?" [i] She questioned, head tilted slightly curiously as she sipped from her glass. She could tell something was wrong, that much was obvious. She just didn't know what, but she knew she was going to find out. [/i]
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"Kills the memories." [i]He replied, a hurt smile crossing his lips. He knew she was going to ask, and likely chew him out for it. She wasn't one for self-loathing, and normally, neither was he. The Christmas season just made things rough on him.[/i]
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"This is when you're dad was killed..wasn't it? Christmas time?" [i] She asks quietly. [/i]
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"Christmas Day." [i]He said, raising his shot glass and downing the whiskey in one swift gulp. Compared to previous behavior, this was a new low for him, or maybe Riley just had never seen him during this time of year.[/i]
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[i] She doesn't say anything for a moment, taking a drink from her glass. She knew saying sorry didn't help anything, and not much she could say would comfort him.[/i] "Tell me about him." [i] She says. [/i]
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"W-what?" [i]He sounded surprised that she asked. He'd figured she was going to do what he had done when he first met her. Wolfe was expecting her to tell him to move on.[/i]
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"Tell me about him." [i] She repeated, looking at him.[/i] "Tell me a good memory you have of your dad."
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[i]Jackson sighed, looking over at the line of bottles on the shelf behind the bar, then back to Riley.[/i] "I think I was thirteen or fourteen at the time, but anyways, it was over Thanksgiving break, and we went hunting on the first day of deer season. It was cold, unnaturally cold, like snow and ice. I was up in the top of a tree securing the tree stand, he was working on the bottom of it. I must've moved the wrong way, and my foot slid out from under me, and went out of the tree backwards. Cut my arm open on a branch coming down, smashed my wrist too, knocked myself out when I hit the ground, but at least I landed in the snow and brush. I came to a few minutes later, and he was standing over me, had my arm wrapped in his jacket, and he picked me up to take me back to the truck. The whole time, he's going "Your mom's gonna kill me... your mom's gonna kill me..." We got to the hospital, and they cleaned up my arm, set my wrist in a cast, and took care of everything. Never once said anything about missing the first day of deer season... We got back home by the end of the day, and he stopped the truck in the driveway, and looked at me. I had just woken up, I slept the whole ride home. He sat there, and he said "Christ, I thought I'd lost you. I really thought I lost you woke up in the snow. Knew someone a long time ago who died falling out of a tree, worked as a logger after he left the Corps." He was so sincere about it." [i]Jackson said, running a hand through his hair.[/i]
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[i] Riley nodded thoughtfully.[/i] "I'm glad that you had someone that cared for you. That loved you. I've never had someone like that." [i] She wasn't looking for pity, or wallowing in self-pity, but just stating a fact.[/i] "You know he wouldn't want you to do this to yourself. You're a soldier Jackson. Soldiers keep moving."
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"You've got people like that now, and thankfully none of us have died yet." [i]He said. Whether she knew it or even believed it, Clarkson and Wilson cared about her too. They knew she made Jackson happy, and they knew she was a wickedly valuable combat asset.[/i] "It's just better I stay alone and away from it all. This time of year, it's the worst. Normally I can ignore that memory, I can block it out, but Christmas lets it out of the cage."
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Alpha entered the bar. Despite being 15, and depite being on the shitlist of every single civilization that fell under the protection of the NTR, he liked these places. His new adoptive family was celebrating, but he didn't fit in. Guess it's what happens when you're an edgy PTSD-bearing Fifteen-year-old. He saw wolfe, but didn't make a move to disturb him, only sitting down not too far away. Silence suited him as well, and since wolfe wasn't talking, and since Alpha figured he didn't give a flying shit, he took out his journal and a pen, and began sketching, occasionally looking up at you and the surrounding bar around you
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[i]Wolfe looked up, and looked back away. He wasn't going to bother Alpha. He didn't want to talk, he just wanted to sit in silence. [/i]
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Alpha kept sketching, and then turned a page. He hung his head as he did so, and sighed sadly, before closing the journal. He waved the bartender over "Hey, what drink would you recommend? I know I'm young but I don't give a shit"
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"I'm sorry, but I can't serve you alcohol. I'm not losing my license over a depressed teenager goat thing..." [i]He said.[/i] "I can get you a coke or a tea, but that's about it."
