midpointsaloon | Big City Living (Midpoint Mingle)

The town of Midpoint: called thus because it is at the exact center of the game arena, a busy little Western town full of strange people, many of whom don’t look remotely human, because this is where all the players gather and live. Midpoint Saloon: called thus because it is the only bar in Midpoint. It’s also the biggest building in town, four stories high, dotted with windows, painted a jaunty yellow and decorated with red and green flowers in all the window boxes.

This is where your veteran teammate points you. Or just stomps off to and hopes you follow.

Downstairs is a bar and tavern, Old West style, right down to the upright piano in one corner and a raucous crowd of locals - largely locals, but with a healthy smattering of unusual or downright alien faces that clearly indicate the presence of other Players - eating, drinking, gambling, and getting into trouble. There’s a broad, bearded man behind the bar, waving cheerfully at you as you enter.

The rest of the night and the next day is yours to do with what you see fit. Explore the town, take a long nap in your new room, try to get to know people... everyone is here for the next twenty-four hours before travel to the mission site, so it’s a good chance to scope out the competition, at the very least.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I. Arrival - Closed to Teammates

"Welcome to Midpoint," Fuwa says wryly, leading his two companions into the small town. "This is where you're gonna be living for the next five years or so, apparently. There's food, places to stay at the Saloon, and people who don't want to kill you in a couple of days."

II. Saloon - OTA

You wouldn't think that somehow Fuwa would get injured between going to jail to collect the new players and coming back, but somehow he's managed to get a decent scraped-up bruise up the side of his left cheek, bright and fresh against his pale skin even after he's tried to clean it up a bit.

While he's never been a particularly social sort, he's never said no to company in the past few months; aggravating as all of this is, he does recognise the worth in having people not hate you on a regular basis, even if you'll fight them at the drop of a hat.

So he always sits at an open table when he eats, dropping his tooth-mark-pocked hat in its centre, and tending to keep his back to a wall; but if one of the older faces comes past he'll lean back in his seat, drape an arm over the back of it and pipe up casually: "What do you think of this new crowd so far?"

It's probably something of a surprise to see that annoying sniper from a few rounds ago now... Soldat doesn't come out and mingle with the other players much. But here they are, holding a plate from an equally-surprised North and a mug of coffee, wending around to a table not far from Fuwa's.

They pause. And give Fuwa a measuring yet bland kind of look. Do you hold a grudge, Fuwa? Should they be setting this food down and expecting to be challenged to a duel outside, or something?

But they do answer the question. "Bigger than usual. Ain't seen a group this big in over a year."

Don't get him wrong - he doesn't like the sniper whatsoever. But Fuwa had been very close to having a positive impression of him, until he went and shot his entire team, Fuwa included, in the back. There's definitely a grudge here.

But he's also been here the longest, so there's valuable experience he can learn from.

(Plus, the idea of North throwing him out on his ass holds him in check.)

His own gaze back at the soldier is equally bland. "Is that right. Feels like we got more aggressive ones this time around." He lifts his glass, but pauses before he actually takes a sip. "Or at least mine are."

"I can see that." Given the black eye, and all. Soldat at least takes a seat at the next table over, not with Fuwa but close enough for conversation. "Mine aren't. The lady says she's an accountant." She's clearly something more than that, not with her hair pins being clearly weapons and not with the way she moves, they just don't know what. "And the robot fellow is like a giant puppy dog. Not sure how much use they're gonna be, but they're not aggressive."

"One of mine looks like another Kamen Rider," he muses. "Only he has this weird transforming mantis thing." Sure, they're enemies now. But it pays to know these things in advance, for the day they end up being on your team too. "The woman on mine has a sword that's taller than her, but only one arm."

The plates on the metal arm shift in sympathy to someone with only one arm, but the thing that really deserves a mention is: "Transforming mantis." Soldat met the guy with the giant bug last night. ... the bug'd been pretty cute, actually. "Didn't seem that aggressive, to me. We played poker last night after dinner. The bug kept eating our peanuts for the bets, and narrating his cards out loud."

"That mantis can turn into a dragon and a pony, and tried to attack me with lightning." It reminded him of Aruto, a little. "Don't underestimate it. Or him, he's the one that did this," he adds, tapping his cheek with a wry half-smile. "Said he was going to hunt some undead before I knocked some sense into him."

Well that's. Nice. Soldat glances around, as if Hajime would be in here now and able to explain that. He's not. "Huh. Wonder what he meant by that. Not a lot of walking skeletons around here."

"Apparently it's got something to do with immortals." His gaze drifts over to North behind the bar. "Said he can sense them. I'm just worried he's going to start a fight with someone that's not our problem." He doesn't want the jail time.

"He does, you just keep out of the way," Soldat suggests. "Probably won't punish you if you've done what you can to tell him not to, and he keeps doing it anyway. Then it's all on him." They do wish they'd known about the undead business when they spoke the night before. They'd love to have asked about it.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters in response. "Doesn't make it any less stupid."

He drums his fingers on the table lightly as he thinks. "He came with half a deck of cards, too. Used one of them to transform, almost like me." The sniper has seen Fuwa's overdramatic key-breaking and bullet-smacking. "A lot quieter, though."

"Magic cards. Of fucking course." That might as well be a thing. Fuwa has magic bullets that give him armor, so why not playing cards that do the same thing? Soldat doesn't actually miss the days when the weirdest thing they had to deal with was a metal arm and not having memories... but it sure was simpler. "We played poker. He was very focused on the cards when I shuffled and dealt."

"Huh. Maybe if he gets too antsy I can make him play Fifty-Two Pick-Up for a few minutes to shut him up," he comments, with a self-indulgent little grin on his face. "I might get a deck off Booker."

"Might be a good idea, if you're polite about it," Soldat shrugs. "Distractions stop fights sometimes before they start." But he'd have to not be an ass about it. Soldat is not entirely sure Fuwa would manage that.

"Worst comes to worst, I can always shoot him in the back," he says evenly, pushing himself to his feet, but there's a pointed sidelong look sent at the sniper. "If it doesn't kill him, it'll definitely distract him."

(Congrats, Soldat, you're entirely correct.)

"I'll let you know how it turns out," he finishes snidely, as he pushes his chair back under the table a little bit too roughly, scoops his ~~chewed-up~~ beat-up hat back onto his head, and strides towards the saloon doors.

Soldat sighs and lets him go, instead settling in to eat. They're never gonna live that down, and probably Fuwa is an enemy that's not going away any time soon.

It's okay, though. It's worth it to never have to shoot Misty in the back.

Big City Living (Midpoint Mingle)

Isamu Fuwa | Kamen Rider 01 | Veteran player

II

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject