RED RAVEN BAR, NEO BAY 10:43 pm


One more glass of that cheap liquor....whassit called? Welsh Dragon?! *Hic* Rack em and Stack em for Mr SWAT, I was a public servant once upon a time.....I'm here to....

Mack Yancy was in the swing of his nightly routine, he would do this every friday, although he was a quiet drunk for most of the week, only on fridays would he announce his status as an ex policeman. As he lost his job on a Friday and it would forever haunt him as the day he lost his identity. His slurred words were drenched in pain and sadness, the bartenders would tolerate his outbursts because they knew how he was hurting, the smugglers would pay him almost no mind. He was just a staggering has-been, they had nothing to worry about.

So much crime...bartender....so much fuggin crime....I lead some of the most successful *hic* drug busts....freakin, put those....poison pushers away for years...I kept people....safe....fug...*sniff*..ah crap.

Mack's bright blue eyes were beginning to well up with tears, the imagery was too strong, the nostalgia of doing his job right was too much of a pull on his heartstrings, he didn't want to be alive at this very moment, he wished the bottle of welsh dragon would overflow into his lungs and take him peacefully away into a drowned darkness, he blamed his parents for giving birth to him in the wrong era, a model policeman born into a world that didn't want police.......

The bar door began to creak open, a man with blue eyes as bright as Yancy's but of a Caucasian ethnicity, draped in a long coat stepped into the red raven, the music was low and heavy and seemed to be in time with the man's steady footsteps. He nodded to the bartender and pulled up a stool, right next to the sobbing Mack Yancy. He ordered an orange juice on the rocks and a black coffee. He smiled warmly and turned towards Mack who still had his head down.

Captain Michael Raymond Yancy, of the 32nd precinct Neo-Bay SWAT division, what the hell are you drinking today? Your commander back at the cadets would have suspended you for being anywhere near this cheap rat piss lager.

The man grinned and placed his hand on Mack's shoulder who was still gently weeping but began to slow down as he turned towards the man.

............I'm technically a...frickin lieutenant, Councilman. I never got my promotion ceremony when I was announced for captain, the precinct closed down the funds for that 4 days before I lost my job...*hich*..what's a goddamn politician like you doin here? *sniff* let me fuggin....die in peace here... will you?

The man adjusted his seat as he paid for the orange juice and coffee as it arrived and slid the black coffee over towards Mack next to his freshly opened bottle of 'Welsh Dragon' lager. He chuckled to himself as he sipped the orange juice and responded.

You can just call me Tim now Mack, I'm technically not a councilman anymore, I left office after that final fundraiser remember? The mayor said that I 'took my money and ran' which I didnt. Me and Hobbes didn't run anywhere, and now weve finally got everything all in place. But that all goes to shit if you end up dying drinking crap lager. Get some of that coffee in you Lieutenant, you'll be on duty soon.

As soon as Mack heard the word 'duty' he seemed to begin to rapidly sober up, his teary eyes became wide with puzzlement and his head snapped around to face the Ex-Councilman and looked deep into Tim's eyes.

What...*hic*...the fuck you talkin bout??! What do you mean.....duty?

Ex-Councilman Tim Taggart smiled warmly and grabbed 4 folders from inside his coat, and placed them on the bar counter.

Drink your coffee, and sober up Mack, we have a car coming to pick us up soon, those folders are dossiers, I need you to read over them, we are building a team. You'll be meeting them soon, I've gathered them all at my town house, Hobbes is briefing them as we speak, and they are all sober, hahah.

Mack was still puzzled, he began to open up the first dossier on the pile, and sipped on the black coffee, as his vision began to un-blur.