Lionel Krieger's Story

Lionel swayed slowly on his chair his eyes closing in sequence, apparently they had given up on the idea of closing together, he was facing towards the holographic projection of the Gravball although it was difficult to see whether he was actually looking at or if it had managed to get through to his alcohol smothered brain but he was making grunts at all the right times. Even if it was for both teams.

After some few minutes of continuing his blank expressionless stare he glanced down towards his beer in confusion, trying to fathom how one would go about trying to get it from the glass and into their system. He stared it down daring it to make the first move, eventually however he managed to defeat his liquid adversary and slammed the glass down onto the counter in a sign of drunken victory.

“Fill me up Jo!” He smiled, returning to his swaying again, trying to focus enough so as to see the wall behind the bar and the humanoid shape that he assumed was the bartender.

“I think you’ve had enough now Lye. Otherwise we’re going to have to leave you outside again.” The barkeep smiled jokingly; there was of course no animosity between them, Lionel was one of his best customers after all and if he wanted to get blind drunk every day then that what else could Jo do but oblige him in his hour of need.

“Never!” Lionel shouted quite theatrically jumping to his feet and raising his arm, taking his neighbour’s glass along with it

“Oi! What you think you’re doing!” A dominating large shape boomed down at him. Lionel slowly looked up at this new voice, which was something that didn’t happen often. “I am…” He thought for a moment, he wasn’t entirely sure of the answer and the much larger man in front of him was gradually gaining shape, the situation he was now in groggily forming in his mind. So far Lionel had discovered the man was bald, missing most of his teeth and seemed very short on neck. “What are you doing?!” Lionel eventually growled back, trying to pull himself to his full height. A difficult feat when you’re too drunk to feel your legs.

Under usual situations having been a soldier for most of his life Lionel could take a punch or two and under the heavy influence of alcohol that was only extended and although he couldn’t feel much in his current inebriated state; it was obvious that tomorrow he was going to hurt.

The fight was finished almost as quickly as it started, Lionel had apparently got a lucky punch in and the giant was brought crashing down bringing a table with him before Lionel himself collapsed to the floor, either from the pain from the first punch finally reaching his brain or because the alcohol had got the better of him at last.

The Underworld

Lionel’s eyes opened groggily, the powerful throbbing in his head drilling holes in his skull. He moved his hands through his short hair before pulling his muscled body to sit up, he was outside it seemed not that he could remember how he got there but that was all quite normal for him, his drinking had often taken him to new places and not many of them were metaphoric.

He looked around him in an attempt to get his bearings, the long dark streets of the Underworld mostly looked the same wherever you were but the missing letters of the buildings around him were very familiar to him, he had seen them many a time in his trips to the local bars. Pulling himself to his feet Lionel could see that he’d been dragged outside and dumped on the opposite side of the street and from the lack of daylight in the streets it was still night time, probably early morning now.

He glanced downwards towards his wrist computer and had to shield his eyes from the faint light it created. 2am, wonderful. He made a small mental check over everything he had and was fortunate enough that he’d not been robbed yet.

The Underworld was always busy day or night; the streets were always thick with people shuffling along almost all with sinister intents, Lionel however was drawn in by the cheap booze.

Lionel started to walk back towards his apartment his focus mostly on the device on his wrist as he checked for any new work that may have been sent to him from his usual clients. He was so lost in his world that he failed to see the darkly clad figure before him almost walking straight into the man. “Sorry friend, I wasn’t looking.” He apologised, his head throbbed too much to be fighting now and this man didn’t look too much like he was a local anyway so with any luck there might be a peaceful end to things for once.

(Co-written with VindicatedPurpose)

The Underworld

Good, at least his cognitive functions weren't too impaired by an alcoholic substance. Perhaps they would be able to hold a conversation, Nadd thought.

"Oh it's alright," Nadd responded. For some reason, the man looked familiar, so Nadd squinted to make out his details of his face. He couldn't see anything in the dark, as the Underworld streets lacked public lighting, or at least in that area. Nadd thought of activating his wrist comm to shed some light, the brilliant cyan glow of the holographic screen served to illuminate the man's face, revealing a square-jawed fellow. His hair was short and brown, and his bushy beard was trimmed. His green eyes were glazed over, no doubt from drinking, from what Nadd had gathered. There was also a noticeable, almost trademark, scar across his right eyebrow. He looked familiar, Nadd then realized that this was the man he was looking for.

However, the savvy black market smuggler wanted confirmation, so he decided to skim through the data files on his personal communicator. A small image was brought up on the hovering screen, which resembled the drunken man in every likeness.
"Are you...Lionel Krieger? By any chance?" Nadd asked.

Lionel shielded his eyes at the invading light, far too bright for his current predicament though the light was definitely more welcome than a fist. He couldn’t resist but mimic the man’s squinting, what an unusual bloke. he thought to himself still blinking out of sequence. “I am indeed!” He smiled slapping the man on his back. “Wait! I don’t owe you money do I?” he asked his tone changing almost immediately as he attempted to look the man in the eye.

"No, you don't owe me money, to say the least." Nadd grinned slyly.

“No? Then in that case yes. Yes I definertly am Lionel… Would you care for a drink?” He asked gesturing towards a nearby medical centre. “They’re really cheap in there.” He lent in to the man’s ear. “And the barmaids got a cracking arrrse.” He slurred heavily, threatening to collapse as he leant his weight against the man. “So who’re you then?”

"Hmm, I'm not sure if this place is right for a conversation. Care to take this elsewhere?" Cantor asked.

"I'd love to! To the bar!" Lionel threw his arm in the direction of the bar beside them his vision beginning to take a slight spin as he did so. "Ah. It seems I may be slightly pickled." He smiled to his acquaintance before slumping completely and falling to the floor and starting to snore.

"Son of a bitch..." Nadd muttered. He activated his comm, "Saul." Nadd turned the screen on the sleeping man.

"It could have been worse."

(Co-written with TurtleSoup)

The Nadd Residence

Nadd had managed to carry the drunk bastard back to his house. His guards were off duty in the morning, but they would spring forth at a moment's notice and be at his house in a couple of minutes.

Nadd exited his master bedroom, dressed in a simple suit, no tie, underneath was a thin body vest. As a merchant, smuggler, and black market criminal, he knew that a sword hung above his head like that of Damocles. Nadd didn't hesitate though, this was the life he chose, and he didn't regret it.

He sat down on a curved leather sectional directly across from the fabric sofa that Lionel rested upon. He had left Lionel on the couch for the night, while he slept in his bedroom. He had his eye on his digital watch, which blinked in cyan colors, 9:10, while he waited for the mercenary to pull himself out of repose.

The butler, an old, thin man, held a tray in one hand and entered the living room, with its raised ceiling. He proceeded to set the tray down in front of Nadd.

"Thank you, Ronald," Nadd went about eating, the old man replied with a nod.

"And what will he be having, sir?"

"When he wakes up, you can ask him." Nadd answered.

Lionel grunted. Opening and closing his mouth sleepily, rolling himself over and wrapping one of the pillows in his arms. "Mni don't want the lil one..." He mumbled.

One of his eyes open slightly, taking a sleepy glance at the room before closing just as dreamily. Then all of a sudden both eyes were open and his hand shot to where his gun was usually holstered, flying to his feet he held his 'gun' ready to shoot at his kidnapper. "Who are you?" He half growled before it dawned on him he was pointing a remote at his well dressed assailant.

Nadd's mouth fell open slightly for a moment. For starters, this was the first time someone had managed to get a "gun" so close to his head. Secondly, he was amazed at how quick the mercenary managed to draw a "weapon" after waking up with a hangover, or at least he thought Lionel had a hangover. Lastly, the bastard had completely forgotten who he was, but he shouldn't have been surprised, considering how drunk Lionel was the night before. Then he blinked and sealed his lips, before finally talking.

"Calm down big man, you were drunk last night, so I carried you to my house."

The butler, approached Lionel, "What will you be having for breakfast sir?"

Blinking slightly dazed, Lionel stood motionless for several moments before lowering the remote as though it really was still a gun. "Oh." He answered still trying to re-piece everything together from the night before his memories and head still feeling fuzzy. He turned his head as the older gentlemen approached, evidently his kidnapper, saviour, host person was of some social standing and wealth. "Umm, breakfast?" He smiled brightly at the butler, obviously impressed, "I could get used to this." He patted the frail man upon his shoulder, slightly less forceful then his jovial slaps were normally, in case he induced some form of heart attack in the frail man.

"Do you know how to make a full English?" He asked with a smile before sitting down and running his hand across his short hair. "Right, so I got drunk and ended up here. Err... I'm really sorry friend but as much as I like breakfast being made for me I don't really swing that way... so I don't think this is going to work..." Lionel began the night before slowly beginning to reconfigure itself in his memory. "Wait, no I remember... Naff right?" he guessed. "Well, so far this mission is sounding interesting, you carried me home and your butler is making me breakfast." His head was beginning to catch up to the rest of his body and the hangover was definitely starting to ache in his head but this was not a feeling Lionel was new to, he had learnt over time to ignore the dull thudding. “So, what is it you want me to do?” He leant inwards towards Nadd from his seat, with a keen interest.