Atlantech: The Early Days Volume One

Chapter 1:It was the Best of Times, It was the Worst of Times

"Okay, coming up," Enrique replied, before turning to grab a glass off one of the shelves behind him.

Brian sat hunched over the countertop with his elbows resting on its surface as he waited, seemingly lost in thought, until he heard a splattering sound coming directly behind him, as though someone had just spilled their drink on the old brown carpet. There was a moment of silence before Brian heard a panicked drunk man mumble, "Oops!"

And standing not far from them, was the short-tempered manager of the Card Shack himself, Maxwell Graham. He too had apparently witnessed the patron's little accident, and gnashed his teeth in rage as he stormed over, pointing his finger accusingly at the shocked drunk man.

"You bloody idiot, look what you've done!"

Brian had only received his glass of water moments before Maxwell started sounding off, startling him in the process. But in that moment the only thing he could do was cover his ears and groan.

"You see that mess?" Maxwell exclaimed in outrage, pointing out the large red stain on the carpeted floor. "That's all because of you! Why, I ought to have your head for this!"

Curiosity then got the best of Brian, and he dared to look behind him. There he could see a poor looking sap of a man with a green suit and black slicked back hair being chewed out by a tall lanky man in a purple vest and slacks with a pointed nose, and his long dark gray hair worn in a ponytail. Brian couldn't help but feel the drunk man must have felt extremely embarrassed in that moment, being terrorized by one of the most hated men in all of Atlantis City. Whatever reputation he had was surely gone now.

Brian soon lost interest in their quarrel and turned back around. He could already see the dread on Enrique's face as he looked back at him. The bartender's wide green eyes had grown even wider, as though he knew the worst was yet to come.

"It wasn't me," the frightened drunk man suddenly belt out, as though it were last ditch effort to defend himself, as well as stand up to that peon of a manager.

"Oh, so it wasn't you?" Maxwell remarked with sarcasm. "Oh of course it wasn't, it had to have been some other bumbling idiot standing before me, isn't that right?"

He narrowed his eyes and pointed to the door, while the man began to run for it. "Get out!" Maxwell chased after him.

Brian shook his head. Maybe it's your fault for having carpeting in a bar in the first place? Out of all the bars that I have been to, I've never seen a single carpeted floor in any of them. People spill their drinks, accidents happen, just look at you.

The thought of telling that to Maxwell's face was tempting, but Brian knew that would only get him kicked out of this place for good. After all, he wasn't the type to openly speak out against someone he didn't like, probably because he knew he could say the wrong thing to the wrong person and end up with a split lip or broken jaw.

"You must get tired of that," Brian couldn't help but comment then. "And what I mean is, listening to Maxwell yell like that all day. It must get old, right?"

Enrique sighed. "Well for once it isn't me he's yelling at."

"I guess that's one way of looking at it?" Brian turned and looked over his shoulder and spotted a couple of AMF soldiers seated at a booth against the wall, looking to be playing a game of blackjack.

"You ever get tired of the soldiers who come here all the time too?" Brian couldn't resist asking, not even caring if those soldiers overheard him during their game.

"Maxwell hates them, but I don't mind," Enrique answered. "They're banned from the main city you know? Pretty much confined to the downtown area near the base, so they do come here a lot to escape, and to tell you the truth I kind of feel sorry for them."