See if we don't get caught

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

It was a slightly chilly evening as McMillan was making his way down the road to the local pub. It was rather easy to get out of the gate at such a late hour and that didn't sit too easy with McMillan. Wonder how often other soldiers get out of there without papers...Eh It bothered him for a moment but no one had screwed it up yet. The pub was a little Mom and Pop type place, the best kind, a little hole in the wall with a small radio in the corner playing music as loud as it could, but they only turned it up that high because it was on it's last leg, you could sit four feet away from it and barely hear the thing.

McMillan was just under a block away now and was almost finished with his cigarette, his second since they decided to go out for this drink. "I gotta stop and take a leak before we get there." He said it as he was already walking towards the tree. He unsnapped his pants and got down to business "Holy sh...." He almost soaked his own pants as he almost watered a stray cat that was sleeping, but it's awakening was very violent and startled McMillan. He put his gear away and got back onto the side walk to continue on toward the little pub.

[darrencameron]

Darren had been positioned in the Allied barracks to raise moral for the men by playing the bagpipes every night at the local pub. Although he was a skilled musician and enjoyed the attention directed towards him during his performances, he disliked the military conditions everywhere. It may have been cold back home but at least he wasn't forced to do laps every morning until his feet were covered with blisters.

The performances themselves were dangerous as well. There was always some drunk bloke who thought he was better than everyone else and would take a pop at you. Darren had been punched in the face nine times already and didn't relish another night of piping.

"You're rubbish, mate!" yelled out an overweight man in the front row. He was sat at a table with a large group of friends who all looked able to handle themselves. Darren even recognised a couple of them from the barracks.

His face turning red, Darren continued playing, hoping to avoid any violence. He had no intention of getting into a brawl against a man that size, especially when he was backed up by so many friends.

The man's friends guffawed stupidly around him and gave the initial drunk a confidence boost. Grinning dumbly, he tossed a single coin at Darren's face. The coin made contact with his forehead and sent him crashing to the floor in surprise.

Moaning in pain, Darren felt the tears well up in his eyes. He felt so pathetic. He was supposed to be a soldier; how would it sound if he complained to the captain that he was getting bullied? Darren gritted his teeth and rose to his feet.

"Oh, poor baby," grinned the man, as his beefy friends clapped him on the back as if he had just scored a goal instead of assaulting an innocent man.

Something inside Darren snapped. He strode over to the drunk and without thinking, thumped him in the face. The man toppled backwards, clutching his bleeding nose in agony.

Fuming, Darren stormed out of the pub and was, for once, glad of the darkness. At least no one would be able to see him cry.

[Rhys Bevan]

Rhys had watched the entire scene unfold before him, sighing exhasparatedly. There seemed to be a brawl going on every week nowadays, each one more vicious than the last. Rhys rose to his feet to check on the injured man whose main injury seemed to be to his pride.

"I'm gonna kill him!" he bellowed madly, struggling in the arms of his amazed friends. "I'm gonna bloody kill him!"

"You're not going to kill anyone, sir," grunted Rhys, inspecting the man's face. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong,"

"He should be arrested!" roared the injured man. "That was assault! That was...that was...assault!"

"It was barely a tap," snorted Rhys. "But you're not exactly blameless for the incident, are you?"

The man stared at his feet sheepishly.

Rhys sighed and, without looking back at the drunk, re-took his seat, muttering to himself about the stupidity of man. However, he had underestimated the drunken stupor of the man. In a bid to impress his companions, he raised a barstool and swung it full-force towards the back of Rhys' head.

Rhys yelled out in pain as the hard wood made contact with his skull. He crashed to the floor immediately, clutching his head in agony and seething with anger.

[♔ Liam J. Brentwood]

The Lieutenant was meant to meet his Senior NCO, McMillan, at the local pub in an hour or so. A good drink, nice talk and perhaps a friendly male bonding; Since taking heed of the new Royal Marines Commandos, the Lieutenant hadn’t taken much time to know his men, let alone his senior NCO, the current second in command and father to his boys, so it was righteous to get to know the Sergeant sooner rather than later, heck, talk of packing up and going into battle was arising; if he didn’t know the man by then, all hell could break loose.

Striding along the cobbled road, Liam adjusted his green beret, not exactly relishing the thought of leaving the barracks in full blown gear, but in order for him to slip out past the sentries, he had to make it look official and strict that he were on pure orders to be summoned to a rendezvous out of the barracks. Of course, these were lies, but the trick worked and the fully dressed Lieutenant in his nipped and tucked uniformed, surpassed as a cloak to him looking smart towards his superiors. Fools! thought the Lieutenant to himself bitterly, the guards had no idea to how their Officer’s system worked, which was more worrying considering anyone could’ve dressed up in Officer’s gear and strode right out - Heck, they didn’t even ask for papers. That would have to be looked at upon his return, after of course, he’d had a good drink.

Licking his lips at the thought of the bitter taste succumbing to his gullet, the dim lights in the short distance lit the way to the nearby pub, illuminating within the dark like a beacon. Although the lights were attracting enough, something else caught the Lieutenant’s senses; Bagpipes!? Worryingly for a moment, Liam became a little hesitant within his stride as the soaring sound of Scottish bagpipes took mid-flow to the nearby area. Personally, the Lieutenant had no quarrel with the Scottish, but the local Scottish regiments were mean bastards! They had iron jaws and even more iron fists, the thought of becoming rowdy with a brute of an Scotsman made the Lieutenant weary, heck, he wasn’t even meant to be out of the barracks! Limping back with a black eye or broken nose, if the worst happened, could inevitably have him court marshalled for unfit purposes… Then, they stopped… The bagpiper must’ve lost his breath?

Approaching the pub more cautious than ever, to the thought of a whole Scots regiment inside, the Lieutenant almost stumbled when someone swung the pub door open briskly, sending the Officer backwards as if not to get thrashed by the lump of wood “Whoa!” he splurged out cautiously, feeling the door thump against his foot, rather than his face or body. Gritting his teeth, the Lieutenant’s temper struck a nerve momentarily, but soon soothed a calmness as the young man lumbered a bagpipe, not seeming so happy. “Hey, wait --” the Lieutenant ordered quickly, reaching out to grasp the soldier by his forearm, making sure he didn’t slip on by. “What’s the rush lad? You okay?” he questioned sympathetically for once, the brutal Officer he was formally known as being quite strict and regimental, actually could just have a heart after all?

[darrencameron]

Darren found himself being stared at by the notorious Lieteunant Brentwood. He wondered if he was going to get punished for something. Had he done something wrong?

“What’s the rush lad? You okay?”

The Scotsman nodded hurriedly and hoped the rough commanding officer would be unable to see his tears. He had been assigned to the Lieteunant's division, The Royal Marine Commando's a few days ago, but he doubted the gruff Lieuteunant even knew his name. Come to that, Darren didn't know Brentwood's Christian name. Very few actually did and only the highest officers in the entire regiment had ever exchanged any actual formalities with him, aside from the occasional salute and mission briefings. He truly was a mysterious figure.

"Yes, sir...I'm fine..." sniffed Darren, surprised at the tender look in Brentwood's eyes. He was about to dismiss himself hurriedly, when he hard a loud bang from inside the pub.

"What was that?" blurted out Darren.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

As he neared the front entrance he saw that his very own Lieutenant had just beaten him there. Then he saw him almost eat a door, he chuckled under his breath, not wanting any harm to come to Liam, but it looked rather funny to him. A smaller man stumbled out with what looked to be bagpipes, McMillan thought he had heard bagpipes but wasn't able to give it any thought due to the stray cat.

Liam looked like he was scolding the man Great, not only are we trying not to get caught out here but now we are leaving a record of our presence to a witness he shook his head down toward his chest but more than likely the man was just a drunk and it would be no issue. He has on a uniform! I bounced through McMillan's mind so quick it could have been a bullet. It looked as if their outing was busted before it even started.

"Sir." McMillan greeted Liam as he walked up on them. There was a crash that came from inside the bar and it seemed as if they were all about to be made. Without waiting McMillan stepped around the pair and stepped into the place. There was a man lying on the floor and there was a bar stool laying next to him. There was also a group of men that had come to their feet not too far away, they looked drunk and moderately upset, to put it gently. Didn't look like it was going to be a calm night, so McMillan cracked his knuckles and watched from the side to see if he could find out what was going on without having to smell alcohol breath in his face.

[Rhys Bevan]

Rhys could barely feel his back. The chair had slammed powerfully against his slightly-built form, sending him crashing to the floor in agony. To kick him when he was down, he saw three newcomers stood at the pub door. Rhys could have kicked himself. McMillian and Brentwood! How humiliating to be seen like this by his superior officers, of whom even now had generally little respect for him. The Scotsman also stood at the doorway, looking mildly shocked. Rhys could tell he'd been crying from the red marks around his eyes. Rhys gritted his teeth. At least he had a reason to cry.

Rhys stumbled to his feet shakily, clutching his injured back and turned furiously towards the offending drunk, who seemed to have underestimated the power of the chair.

"Do you know who I am?" spat Rhys, grabbing the drunk by his collar and pushing him up against the wall.

The drunk shook his head frantically, his eyes closed tight as if dreading what would come next.

"I am Sergeant Rhys Bevan of the Royal Marine Commando's!" roared Rhys. "And you decided to pick a fight with me, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?"

The man was sobbing now, squealing like a pig. Rhys smirked and let his crumple to the floor. After what he had done to him, there was no room in Rhys' heart for feeling sorry for the civilian. Although, he grudgingly admitted, beating the man would be a step too far.

Realising that all eyes were on him, Rhys shot the drunk one final look of disgust, before marching outside the pub.

[coolhand]

As private Jackson sat at the local pub, he saw many events unfold. None of these events were more interesting than the usual drunks who seemed to be intent on picking fights with the bagpipe player. I've must have seen him get punched in the face at least 10 times already The guy usual took his normal punishment but it seemed tonight was when he took his stand... a little late but respectful nonetheless. He punched a drunkard in the face and stormed out. The drunkard as predicted was hurt both physically and emotionally. The drunk turned his aggressions towards an unsuspecting patron that was breaking up the whole ordeal... his aggressions turned out to be a barstool to the back of the poor guy's head. A moment passed and the drunk was pinned against the wall by a member of the British army. Great idea, spout out that you're in the military... but then again what will they do to you? You're already in a war.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post

Well, I don't think this one is going to pick back up, so I'll just end it.

CP issue:

- Brentwood - 3 CP

- McMillan - 3 CP

- Bevan - 3 CP

- Jackson - 2 CP[/color]

[PuNk! ™]

ISSUED CP![/B]
~Danny[/color]