The sun is past set and the night has only begun for the group of five, ready to unwind and forget the events they've went through today. Pushing the door to some random bar that none of them decided to read the sign of, the atmosphere matches the one they came in expecting and mildly hoping. Loud music, rowdy patrons, and tensions on high.

As the quintet file into the fine establishment, the only thing on most of the already plastered drunks is kicking the ass of the next person they can hear talking shit. The soundtrack to this bit of New York scenery shrouded by the skyline is equally dark. Eminem's not-so-big hit "Almost Famous."



Luca steps up to an empty section of the bar and the bartender makes a point of getting over to him, pleased to see a new and not intoxicated face in this den of anger and alcoholic dependency.

Bartender: "Ah, great to see a reasonable face in this bar. So few of them since we stopped throwing drunks and violent idiots out for the sake of a few extra dollars, that is. What can I get you?"

The blunt description of the majority of the inhabitants causes Luca to chuckle slightly.

"A bottle of Grey Goose. Please, keep a tab. My friends and I are having a celebration of sorts..."

"Just don't break anything too important."

Both men laugh heartily at the comment, and the bartender retreats into an area camouflaged by drunken shitheads. Returning a few moments later with the bottle of vodka Luca had requested. Seated at one of a few tables on the building's east side, well away from the barside area are the others. Five empty glasses already placed at the table.

Heading over to the table with the bottle in hand, Luca's greeted by a bit of joking hostility from Jared.

"Hey Luca! Glad you didn't forget about us while you were busy getting the bartender's phone number!"

Stupidly, Lenny decides to add his two cents into the insult.

"Yeah! you, homo..."

For his effort, he's greeted with a punch to the shoulder from Luca, who takes the empty seat between himself and Jared.

"Shut up Lenny, are you even old enough to drink?"

Red in the face, Lenny scrambles to think of a comeback.

"Yeah, are you?"

Leaning over to Jared, Luca loudly whispers into his ear in another attempt to mess with the youngest of the group.

"You sure he isn't a ]

Luca places the bottle in the center of the table after filling everyone's glass with the clear liquid...

Act 8: You Gotta Get Me Drunk Enough...

11:30 PM

New York, New York

April 6th, 2013

About an hour and a half has passed since the gang decided to make this bar their temporary home. In that time, 3 bottles of Grey Goose have been downed, and everyone's getting a little on edge in their own special ways.

Mero looks like he isn't even affected in the slightest. However, he could look fine after getting hit by a bus, so appearance isn't even a slight factor in determining how fucked up he is.

Jared worked his way over to the bar, right in the heart of the too aggressive for their own good rejects. Having already taken a man who skipped AA to come get wasted in a fight, he's eager to go after any other shithead in this establishment.

Lenny's fucking plastered. Having spent the last 30 minutes throwing up in the bathroom, he doesn't learn from his mistake and goes right back to drinking.

That just leaves Luca and Renee. Luca's as calm as he always is. Sitting there, drink in hand, looking on as if nothing matters at the moment.

Renee on the other hand looks like a nervous wreck. Sure, she looks just fine, but in her eyes it looks like every sip is bringing her closer to breaking out in tears.

After a couple more drinks from her glass, it happens. Renee begins to sob hysterically, covering her face in her hands. Mero doesn't even flinch, while Luca goes right over to her.

[red]"What happened?"

Between choked out sobs, Renee formulates an explanation for her outburst.

"I just, well, stuff. Just stuff."

"Renee, you know no one would ever buy that, right?"

Coughing, and managing to vomit all over the table, the distressed woman stops sobbing for a moment.

"I don't care. You'll have to get me drunk enough to tell you the full story. Can we go now?"

"Sure, I'll take you home. Mero, can you make sure the other two don't die or end up in jail?"

"No promises!"

Taking the young woman's hand, Luca leads Renee out of the building, right into the cover of night. As they exit the bar, Luca hears Renee quietly slurring through a direct question to him...

"Hey Luca! Wanna see where I got my tattoo?"



"Chris Macbeth. Who is Chris Macbeth?

A failed musician.

A failed MMA Fighter.

...And soon to be a failed pro wrestler after I get done with him on Wednesday.

I mean seriously, who gets their futile insult completely thrashed and then continues to use it? It's stupider than the phrase 'homo' being used as a gay slur when humans are homo sapiens.

Words may only be words, and that's the feel I get from you. You only want to say words and bring up my words because you know your's can't hold up.

Also, last I checked, I beat Angelus for the X-Treme title. Typical reject mentality, getting intimidated by the competition and tuning out so he doesn't have to face his own prophecy.

Alas, what have I had to devolve in by coming to Warfare? Getting into a war of the words with one such as Chris Macbeth.

A battle, that like our match, will only be entertaining to watch because I'm kicking his ass at it. Effortlessly, might I add.

So go on Macbeth, think you're on top of the world. You're time draws near, soon you will be on trial.

Chris Macbeth, King of Losers. On trial for the attempted murder of anything and everything entertaining.

Guilty.

Your sentence?

Come Wednesday, you'll learn that..."