Zero

[Dissinger]

(Closed to Max Dirks.)

Seth sat in the bar, amongst the countless others his back hunched over his glass. His eyes were downcast as he sat down before he took a deep draught of his favorite poison. The Lavinian ale gave him the bitter kick it usually did as he sighed softly unwinding. It had been a long week with trips involving slavers, and red heads, and worst of all, the prospect of heading the Lavinya. It had been too long since he had ever seen his homeland, the last time being immediately following the wake for Sarah Brown, his ex-lover and ex-fiancée no less.

It wasn't that he wasn't happy for his situation. He was ecstatic. He was however, in need of a good drink to take the edge off the week. It had been a long week, and he felt he deserved the indulgence into perhaps one of his stupider habits. Still he drank deeply as he felt his muscles relax and the tension slowly leave him. He sighed as he relaxed trying to forget the stress for once and simply enjoy his life like he used to. With his new found responsibilities towards Liliana, he wouldn't have many indulgences like this anymore.

Still he remained calm as he simply tried to enjoy himself, go beyond brooding about all that had fucked him up. As he saw the groups talking a few of them were the loud boisterous kind that was in any bar. As he looked about the bar he saw numerous tables, each with a few customers, four chairs always filled as people moved to the counter to pay or refill. Patrons lined the counter as well, which was where he made his place to stay, more towards the exit of the bar, incase a fight should break out. As much as Radasanth put up with him, even Letho's good word would not keep him from jail time should he get in trouble.

Wooden pillars rose up between tables, holding lanterns out upon iron hooks long since getting a cover of rust. As their light added to the light of the day it made the bar have a bit more of a peaceful flair as the light flickered over things. Leaning back against the bar he sighed as he reveled in his anonymity. It was nice now that he had no distinct features other than the scar that lined the left side of his face. Brown hair often getting forgotten where he came from, along with the grey eyes and the commoner drab he put himself in, often filled with patches. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as people moved in and out fo the tavern, amused at the free reign he had.

[Max Dirks]

A roar of laughter rose above the clamor of the tavern. Several patrons turned their heads to discover the source of the ruckus and saw that a group of dregs, both men and female alike, were bent over and holding their stomachs in laughter. Eventually the noise subsided and one by one the dregs stood and returned to their own seats, still chuckling over what was said. In their wake sat Max Dirks, Althanas’ most infamous criminal and now a part time hero. Dirks was dressed casually, clad only in his white tunic and his khaki slacks. His guns and his katanas were clearly visible without Dirks’ trench coat. They glinted in the warm glow of the tavern. Dirks had his trademark smirk on his face.

Once everyone had taken their seats, Dirks rubbed his hand against his forehead and shook his head. He hadn’t realized it while he was talking, but the affects of his dark ale were finally beginning to set in, leaving him feeling unusually pleasant. Dirks stood and drank the rest of his pint, intent on getting another. He approached the end of the bar and planted his mug on the counter. As he settled down, Dirks eyes met with Seth’s, though he did not recognize the murderer. Dirks nodded to him, and then he turned his attention to the bartender who had walked over to meet him.

“Well Dirks, it looks like you can still work a crowd,” the bartender laughed while drying a mug with his towel. “What exactly did you say to them?”

Dirks laughed, “You know, years ago I would have loved all the attention, but now…” the criminal tapered off and looked at the counter. “I don’t know.” Dirks looked up at the bartender who was staring at him intently. “Anyway, I told them about the Gray Braves War at the Magi Tower. I explained that the whole point of the invasion was to bring down the Tower to allow the natural flow of magic to be returned to Salvar. Rather than fight, the Gray Braves seemed content knocking down the Tower themselves moment I showed my face. We won the war, and I never lifted a finger. I guess those people got a kick out of the immeasurable power of the Max Dirks smirk.”

The bartender laughed as well. “They really need to get out more. Do you want some more of Radasanth’s finest?” the bartender asked while reaching for a pitcher.

“No, No,” Dirks replied. He thought of a few drinks for a moment and then settled on one. “Why don’t you give me some of that Lavinian Ale you’ve got hidden in the back?” Lavinian Ale is among the rarest alcoholic beverage in Althanas, and the bartender did not seem eager to let his limited stock go. “What? You don’t want to give it to me? Wasn’t I the one that brought it to you in the first place?” The bartended conceded and quietly disappeared through a door at the back of the bar.

[Dissinger]

The words echoed in his head. The war was over, there was no one left to fight it, but someway somehow, Seth felt the pride rise up in him. On any other day he might have bit down on that pride. On any other day, he might have tried to control the pool of anger forming in his chest. Had this been any other day, Seth Dahlios would have been his miserable, guilt ridden self. But this wasn't any other day. He had tried to forget his failures, to forget that the past had hurt.

It was hard, when that past walked by you, gave you a courtesy nod, then remarked about how big a coward your side was in the war. Perhaps it was this that drove Seth to clench his hand in the fist, Perhaps it was this that made Seth throw the balled fist right at the jaw of the notorious Max Dirks. Who knew, for even the Demon himself wasn't sure by what mystical power he had the gall to sucker punch Althanas' most notorious villain.

But he couldn't argue how right it felt.

"Lets see that immeasurable power now you gaudy jackass..." His voice was an anger filled echo of the coming storm. His next words a bit more revealing, "Not all of us wanted to die for that war, and the only coward was Demorio, may his soul rot in hell..."

The loud words were attracting a crowd as the tavern fell silent under the withering gaze of the thief. He didn't expect anyone to jump out and fight him on Dirk's account, not when the reason was being paraded before everyone. Seth Dahlios was bringing up the old battle lines, drawing the map squarely between him and the notorious Max Dirks. How that battle went few people would probably care to find out, as a few of the more craven barflies fled at the sign of the building tension.

"Let’s see that smirk now pretty boy. I'm sure we're all dying to watch it work again..." Seth remarked as he threw his pack upon the counter.

[Max Dirks]

Dahlios’ punch caught Dirks squarely on the chin and the criminal reared in surprise. He felt little pain due to the alcohol in his system, but the right side of his jaw swelled immediately. Dirks lifted his arm and rubbed the growing knot with his fingers, blinking several times at his assailant.

Dirks could hear Dahlios when he spoke, but he paid little attention to what was said. A deep rumble erupted in the depth of his stomach and for a moment Dirks’ free hand quickly crept to his side. His fingers were itching to find his Beretta 950 and to unleash its fire upon this man. Dirks did not take his eyes off of his assailant and all thought left him. The two combatants stood in momentary silence as several of the bar’s patrons exited. But when Dahlios’ pack slammed against the counter, Dirks’ mind returned to him.

It took him a moment, but then Max Dirks smirked.

Sometime during the exchange, the bartender had returned from the back with the mug of Lavinian Ale that Dirks had ordered. He hadn’t moved since he’d emerged from the back and came across the scene that had unfolded. Dirks saw this and called out, “Don’t worry Jeremiah, its fine.” Dirks motioned in front of him and Jeremiah inched to the counter and set down the mug.

Dirks stepped forward and sat on the stool next to the one Dahlios had just vacated. But before his assailant had time to prepare another attack, Dirks spoke. “You were with that white-haired fool then?” Though Dahlios didn’t respond, Dirks assumed that to be the case. He took a drink of the Lavinian Ale. His throat started on fire as the liquid traveled to his stomach. Before the alcohol even settled, he felt invigorated.

After taking another drink, Dirks felt his anger wash through him. He faced Dahlios and continued. “Your battalion did fight well if I recall, but it wasn’t Demorio that killed your men...” Dirks turned away and spoke softly, “…it was Seth Dahlios’ pride.”

[Dissinger]

He nearly went blind with fury as his hand clenched into a fist so tight that the armored gauntlets he wore squeaked with protest. The people watching began to mutter as they saw the life slowly snuffing out in Seth's eyes. He was so close to just ending the life of Dirks, he wanted it, oh how he did, but he refused to kill the criminal. It wouldn't be enough to kill him, no, he wanted to make Dirks suffer. As he tried to relaxed the fisted hand he spoke his voice almost hoarse so unbridled was his anger, "Dahlios' pride? You honestly think that had anything to do with unleashing a vampire upon innocents in a tower? About having a tower collapse because you figured you'd slash and burn, so you drove a mad man to destroy it himself if only so he could be stubborn as say it was his own hand that did it?"

People were starting to back away as he pressed on, "If anything it was your gods be damned smirk that caused my friends to have to suffer. You didn't even do anything with it, you just went on a tear for no reason other than carnage. But then again that’s the Dirk's way isn't it? Be the big mouth that ends up doing big things, if only to compensate for his inadequacies elsewhere."

His tongue was as efficient as his daggers as he glared down the criminal mastermind. He wanted so badly to hit him again, but he wanted Dirk's to make the next move; he needed him to push the envelope. If only so he could satisfy the burning coals of his pride, and rekindle the fire there. As he straightened himself out he ran a hand through his hair as he snorted softly, "I wonder if maybe that’s why you're drinking... can't find another war to start, so you're going to sauce yourself until you go away."

[Max Dirks]

Dirks quietly sipped at his drink as his assailant ranted. This man’s loyalty to Seth Dahlios was unwavering, but his perception of the world was naïve. “You have no idea, do you?” Dirks paused before continuing, “Then again, I suppose Dahlios wouldn’t have told his men the truth.” Before Dahlios could utter a word in response, Dirks continued, “Don’t be upset, though. That war was the beginning of a plot that unraveled under the noses of a lot of people, kid.” He took another sip of his ale.

After a short pause, Dirks turned to face Dahlios. The swift motion temporarily disoriented him due to the abundance of Lavinian Ale he’d consumed in just a few short moments. A quick look into his assailant’s eyes revealed a storm that was about to explode. Dahlios’ hands were trembling and his eyes were wet, or maybe it was Dirks' own eyes creating an illusion. Was this man truly this passionate about the Gray Braves and that ridiculous war or did his motives run deeper? Dirks did not mind a bar fight, but one that is fought with passion would most assuredly escalate much further than appropriate. Dirks blinked and then turned back towards the bar after deciding to defuse the situation.

“Jeremiah, get this man another drink,” Dirks called out. Jeremiah nodded and quickly filled a mug with the local ale. His hands too were trembling. A bit of the ale spilled onto the outside of the mug, and Jeremiah quickly wiped it off with his rag. He scampered to the counter and put the drink on the counter in front of Dahlios’ vacant seat. “Sit friend, it looks like you could use a little 'sauce' as well.” Dirks lifted his hand to his chin as though he were thinking. “Let’s drink to the grunts" Dirks lifted his glass into the air, “To those who sacrifice everything for what seems like nothing!”

Dirks held his mug out at Dahlios.

[Dissinger]

Perhaps it was the fact he had been used to the glares death threats and the angry words. Perhaps it had been the fact that he had gone so many places and was instantly picked out for who he was, but when Dirk's still couldn't figure out just who he was he had to snicker. However short lived it was he then spoke, his voice still with an angry edge to it, "And just what didn't I tell my men Dirks? That Demorio was a psychopath and couldn't be trusted farther than you could throw him? Perhaps that insufferable Dirks Ego would crush the tower with its very weight? That Malice's entire plan was to put Dirk's atop the Magi Tower, so his huge head could single-handedly topple what no element ever could!"

Chuckles rose through the room as Seth grabbed the tankard from Dirk's hand, "You've had too much to drink, and its showing. Perhaps you should consider what stories you tell. There is far too much bad blood about that war, for it to be a tavern story, not at least until the dust settles about that great cluster fuck." He then sniffed it before he looked at Dirks, "Lavinya's finest? You definitely don't know what its for if you're drinking it as a standard drink..."

Sighing he set the glass down as he grabbed his pack, the anger having leaked far too much for him to care about the boisterous voice of dirks. His rapidly beating heart, had pushed the alcohol from his very system. The adrenaline let down left him shaky as he just wanted to relax and finish his own tankard of ale. As he grabbed the cup he took a deep draught as the people went back to their tables, the bets off as no fight had occurred. Perhaps this was a disappointing night; perhaps it would end in just heated words, and no real action.