The Bitter End (Stu)

[Delilah A. Black]

Literally. That's the name of a San Francisco bar. And for Delilah, it was perfect.

It was a good name at the very least, complete with juke box and pool tables. More of a dive bar than anything else with it's dartboards and Trivia Tuesdays and none-too cheap appetizers, but it was relatively quiet and darkly lit on this late Thursday night, at least in her far corner. Delilah sat at the bar, taking idle sips if her 'Soul Kiss Cocktail'. The warmth of the strong bourbon was well mixed with the tang of orange juice and the spicy, aromatic Dubonnet. It was a hell brew well suited to the name of the bar. Delilah licked her lips thoughtfully, took another sip and set her drink down.

She was only a little buzzed despite this being her second cocktail; the seasoned drinker was no light weight. But she was buzzed enough to let her hair down. Literally. Running her fingers through her hair, she pushed out the tie that held that messy mane of ebony and ruby in place and let her hair fall around her shoulders. She adjusted herself on her seat and sighed, staring into the bottom of her glass as if trying to find an answer. Well, since bourbon isn't a very talkative drink, she instead asked herself aloud, "Why do I bother?"

Of course, no one else could answer this question but Delilah, but she had been referring to the events of the last couple days. She'd been nearly run down by a gang who she'd stolen meth from (They forgot to check my hair. She thought smugly, and her lips twisted in a small grin. Fuckers), not to use, but to keep as evidence/blackmail/leverage for later. Well, she really only needed one of the little packets for that and she had six. But in her escape, she had ended up at Hikari Ryuu's house with a gunshot wound in her shoulder that still stung from the cauterization she had demanded. Which, had been performed by one Emily De Santos...who had demanded to know the whereabouts of Johnathan "Unfettered" Winters and what his plans were. She hadn't said anything Winters didn't want her to say, but despite meeting her old friend and gaining a new one, she still felt unusually alone and cold.

Sighing, she took another swig of her drink, setting it down with a lack of gentleness. She frowned into the amber liquid. "This place friggin' blows," she hadn't meant the bar; she'd meant San Francisco. But of course, when alcohol is involved, things are readily misinterpreted...

[THE Justin]

Stu walked in. Immediately the place went quiet, a few of the more unsavory characters at the nearby pool table recognizing him immediately. In Stu's head, Misirlou began playing. His muscles tensed. Last time he had visited, the bald ape with the cue stick had attempted to drive it into Stu.

However, the man was now in a neck cast, and was suitably afraid. He moved away as Stu walked in. His mind played as though he was a cowboy entering a bar, his boots clanking with every step, the spurs echoing his pace.

He turned from the men; they knew not to fuck with him. They knew that Stu was packing the shotgun that had been used to bust their other friend's ribs. They knew that Stu was strong enough to take them without the weapon.

Stu sat down on a stool. To his left was the raven and crimson haired beauty. He signaled dully to the bartender, who shook his head and smirked. Stu and the man were friends, Stu not destroying his establishment and instead beating the punks from before into submission outside. A frosty mug was set down in front of him, as well as 3 shot glasses. Straight whiskey was poured into the three glasses. The bartender took one, Stu the other.

The third was pushed towards the girl. Stu cheered, and then slammed his down. He didn't wait for the girl. The bartender followed suit, and then eyed the two sitting there, shaking his head before he moved down the bar to start conversing with another two men.

Stu took the beer and began sipping.

"You're too young to be in here."

In his mind he had a cowboy hat that was tipped low so that his eyes were cast in shadow. The same could be said for the real interpretation, as his eyes were glossed over black from a strange complication that he suffered when he was younger. He was leaning on the bar, both elbows used to prop his entire upper body up.

He turned his head slightly towards her, acknowledging her by sight for the first time. Though was he really looking at her?

"That said, you're right looking twist. What's your william, love?"

The English accent. London town, learned from the streets. He sipped again, the frosty liquid cascading down his throat. He sighed heavily after, and set the mug down. He awaited her answer, if she understood what he said.

[Delilah A. Black]

Delilah hadn't noticed the quiet when the door swung open behind, her so absorbed was she in her brooding thoughts, but the tension did prickle her skin a little. She paid it little mind; a bar fight would be a good way of releasing some pent up aggression, but her heart wasn't quite in that place at the moment. In anycase, the tension dissipated rather quickly anyway. With a small sigh she polished off the rest of her drink and pushed the empty glass ahead of her, letting her thoughts drift ahead of her eyes...

The sliding noise caught her senses and her right hand dropped reflexively, catching the shot glass with the back of her hand. She watched as the amber liquid slosh back and forth and raised an eyebrow, lifting her eyes towards the sender with green hair who had just thrown back his own whiskey shot with the bar tender. Cautiously, she lifted the glass to her lips for a smell. Just to be sure, you know. No one knew Delilah here, so there was no saying no one would try slipping her something. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she raised the glass to him in toast and tossed the shot back, setting the glass down hard as she clenched her teeth at the bitter whiskey.

"You're too young to be in here."

She glanced up at him again, surprised at the tone of voice. Getting a closer look, she noticed an odd shadow to his eyes, almost as if they were all black. She shook it off and smirked ironically. She was only eighteen, but she certainly didn't feel young. "Ain't that the truth." She replied, odering another bourbon cocktail despite that with a subtle gesture to her glass. She was pretty sure the bar tender knew of her age, so she didn't mind it being said aloud, but the nice gentleman running the taps hadn't ID'd her anyway. Maybe he could see the repressed pain in her eyes. Maybe he thought she was cute. In anycase, he had let her get in for a few drinks, a gesture ninety percent of other responsible bartenders in North America wouldn't abide by. And since the man knew how to make a good bourbon cocktail, it'd be a good idea to not let the barkeep get in shit for her sour mood.

"That said, you're right looking twist. What's your william, love?"

She had to pause there for a moment as the bar tender slid the glass over to her and resumed his conversation at the other end of the bar. Twist, meaning 'bent out of shape' or something along those lines? Well, that was true enough. It seemed like a good educated guess. But "what's your william"? Totally over the mechanics head. Maybe he was asking for her name ('William' is a name, after all...

[/color][/i] she thought) but she couldn't be sure. Smiling resignedly (Delilah so hated to lose) she lifted her eyes back to the green haired man and noticed that his eyes were indeed not cast in shadow, but were actually black. Despite her surprise, this only earned a slight lift of the brows from the mechanic and she continued as though it didn't intrigue her in the least. She rotated her wrist in a 'and-that-means...' gesture. If it came up, she would definetly ask."Beg pardon?"[/center]

[THE Justin]

Stu chuckled as the girl eyed him over, asking for an explanation. So she wasn't from across the pond. Oh well. These American girls were nice enough...

Or they were fucking mental, like Sara.

Stu sipped again, setting the foreign brew down before turning towards her slightly.

"Twist, meaning girl in Cockney. I'm from merry ol' England, London town and all that chips. Sorry if the language gets a bit tough, love.

I was asking your name, twist. William is name. So what's your william? Mine's Stu. Stu Pott, but call me Stu."

He extended a hand to the lady, a toothy goofy smile.

[Delilah A. Black]

"Twist, meaning girl in Cockney. I'm from merry ol' England, London town and all that chips. Sorry if the language gets a bit tough, love.

"I was asking your name, twist. William is name. So what's your william? Mine's Stu. Stu Pott, but call me Stu."

Her expression cleared upon hearing the explanation and she smiled back, albeit faintly. His smile seemed genuine and friendly enough. But those eyes... She extended her callused hand to his in turn and shook firmly, looking right into those black eyes with her blue ones. "Delilah Black, nice to meet you, Stu." after releasing hands, she would turn back to her drink while keeping her body turned somewhat towards him. She took a quick sip. "Thanks for explaining that. I've been to England a couple times on business, but I never really got a taste of the Cockeny speech I guess." she shrugged amicably. Her turn for a question. "And what brings you here to this fine establishment?" she propped her elbow on the table and leaned her head on her palm, looking at him and past him, at the men playing pool and talking to the bartender. They seemed wary to her. Interesting...

[THE Justin]

Stu polished off the last bit of his beer, setting the mug down and pushing it forwards, the bartender coming down and began drawing another. He leaned back, hands wrapped around the back of his green mane.

She asked about his reasons, and Stu chuckled slightly.

"Oh, probably about as much of a reason as you. Just, life. Plus, I'm a borderline regular here, as you can tell by the meat-heads in the medical get ups behind us at the pool table."

Stu turned and gave them a look, and they immediately went back to playing pool hesitantly, as though they were ready to run out the door at any point in time. Stu chuckled again, picking up the beer again.

"Trying to drown the sorrows and all that. Plus, that fucking shit that went down in the school recently has given me quite dick and jane in my back. Oh, that mean's pain. Dick and Jane, rhymes with pain. Some'd say 'a dick in the back', but I don't drive that way. Drive, meaning work. You get it."

[Delilah A. Black]

"Oh, probably about as much of a reason as you. Just, life. Plus, I'm a borderline regular here, as you can tell by the meat-heads in the medical get ups behind us at the pool table."

Her eyes shifted focus to directly look at the men, who seemed to react rather hastily and direct all of their attention on their game of pool. Delilah cracked a small grin and chuckled wryly.

"Trying to drown the sorrows and all that. Plus, that fucking shit that went down in the school recently has given me quite dick and jane in my back. Oh, that mean's pain. Dick and Jane, rhymes with pain. Some'd say 'a dick in the back', but I don't drive that way. Drive, meaning work. You get it."

She nodded her understanding, "Now I do," but now she was interested. What stuff at the school? Delilah obviously hadn't been in San Fransisco long enough to know the recent events, but it couldn't have been all that good if it had driven this man with green hair and black eyes (Stu, his name is Stu She recalled through the slightly increasing haze of alcohol) to this dive in the middle of the city. She tilted her head in the direction of the two injured guys without taking her eyes off him. "Did they have something to do with this little recent event at the school? I'm going to assume you mean Moral Crest High, yeah?" She downplayed her curiousity with a casual sip of her drink. "Nice job on the goons by the way," she added in a lower voice to avoid any 'accidental' overhearing.

[THE Justin]

Stu laughed slightly, drowning the second beer as it came out as she spoke. He turned to her more, actually turning fully around and resting his elbows on the bar. He nodded to the guys, who actually dropped their sticks and left.

"I wish I could say so, but unfortunately they thought I looked a lot weaker than I am."

He laughed before getting quite serious. His eyes narrowed, and he kicked his boots against the chair.

"Some of the new faculty have been trying to get the school shut down. First was Mr. Purple. Crazy guy. Had some sort of ability to move things with his mind or some such. He got roughed up by a few of the students, but I had to hurt one of my best mates. He took a round from me to his side, and he's laid up in the hospital.

Then there was Mr. Orange. Big brute of a digger. He had some sort of qi where he absorbed all the damage taken to him and then caused it to explode outwards all at once... I tried to knick him with the gun again, and, well, he powerbombed me into the ground. Got these nice boots though.

So I'm smarting a bit from that. Nothing major, just... nothing good."

Stu turned back, visibly upset about the hurting his friend. He grabbed the third beer, his head begging a slight fog, his belly warm. He took another long sip, setting the beer down and sighing heavily.

[Delilah A. Black]

Delilah observed as the guys left at Stu's look and she grinned again. Huh. He had these bar guys whipped.

"I wish I could say so, but unfortunately they thought I looked a lot weaker than I am."

She raised an eyebrow as if to say 'y'dont say' and nodded her head in agreement, finishing her drink and calling for another.

"Some of the new faculty have been trying to get the school shut down. First was Mr. Purple. Crazy guy. Had some sort of ability to move things with his mind or some such. He got roughed up by a few of the students, but I had to hurt one of my best mates. He took a round from me to his side, and he's laid up in the hospital.

As he spoke, Delilah noticed a change in his tone that rung her alarm bells a little. He sounded less jovial than he had before...it soudned to her like this friend of Stu's had been a good one. Not to mention this "Mr. Purple" guy, whoever the fuck that was. He worried her too, what with his telekinesis. But he appeard to be MIA for the moment. She'd look into that later.

"..Then there was Mr. Orange. Big brute of a digger. He had some sort of qi where he absorbed all the damage taken to him and then caused it to explode outwards all at once... I tried to knick him with the gun again, and, well, he powerbombed me into the ground. Got these nice boots though."

Delilah looked down as he mentioned them and raised her eyebrows a little. They were nice.

"So I'm smarting a bit from that. Nothing major, just... nothing good."

She watched him sip his beer, unsure for a moment if she should try to offer whatever semblance of comfort she could muster but stopped short. This guy didn't want her pity. She'd never seen him fight but just by talking to him and looking at his eyes (Black, so black, twin moonless skies with sheens of pain--) she could already tell this guy was tough as nails. She smiled reassuringly and turned her body more towards him. She had more questions about these Mister-colours or whoever they were but those could definitely wait."How badly did you hurt your friend?" She asked in a low voice, trying to sound as understanding as she could and not as accusing. She knew how it felt to hurt a friend. She'd done it a few to many times. To protect them mostly...but herself as well, though she refused to accept that. She banished these thoughts and slipped a hand through her hair again.

[THE Justin]

Stu set the beer down, not even close to finishing it. Part of him just wanted to walk out, not subjugate this girl to his pain. But he felt that talking about it, even to someone he may never speak to again, might give him some semblance of therapy.

He interlaced his fingers under his jaw, and rested his head on his hands. He sighed, undoing one hand and scratching and rubbing his head.

I... I uh... I uh shot him at... point blank range with a shotgun full of rubber pellets. Meant to knock someone unconscious at 10 feet with a single shot, able to knock most people on their arse at 15 to 20.

He uh... He broke a rib or two, I think, and was bleeding pretty bad..."

He downed the drink. It was quick, from nearly full to completely empty in seconds, and Stu set it down somewhat roughly, the glass cracking. He put his head completely in his hands, breathing heavily, shivering slightly.

And then suddenly it was away. He had been visited by his former self, the one that had crushed that kid with the arcade cabinet when he had seen Olesya. The one who had beat the shit out of another in an alleyway for just being there. The one who had stabbed that waitress at that club for no reason other than to just do it.

He breathed in deeply. Should he tell her more? Why the hell not, he's already poured out half his heart, let the rest drain.

"And then there is Militia.

I was helping Gabriel... And... well... I joined Reapers... I've got friends in both gangs... I cut off... I cut off Gabriel's fucking HAND."

He nearly sobbed. He felt somewhat sick to his stomach. Oh well... He let his chest sigh. He sniffled slightly, coughing to cover it up.

"What the fuck would Jonny think?"

[Delilah A. Black]

I... I uh... I uh shot him at... point blank range with a shotgun full of rubber pellets. Meant to knock someone unconscious at 10 feet with a single shot, able to knock most people on their arse at 15 to 20.

He uh... He broke a rib or two, I think, and was bleeding pretty bad..."

Delilah struggled to keep her face neutral as he downed the rest of his beer, cracking the glass as he slammed it none-too gently down on the table. She almost flinched away from that. Almost. Even nearing absolute drunkenness, she was still able to keep her head, at least for a while longer. Her drink for the most part, remained untouched. She watched his internal battle for a while. It seemed familliar to her somehow. A physical manifestation of stuggle. She was going to tell him to stop there, suddenly a little uncomfortable, but he continued anyway.

"And then there is Militia."

Delilah nearly dropped the drink in her hands. What?!

"I was helping Gabriel... And... well... I joined Reapers... I've got friends in both gangs... I cut off... I cut off Gabriel's fucking HAND."

Delilah felt her insides clench and she suppressed a shudder. Her heart was pounding in her head. She was sitting next to the guy...who'd hurt a friend of hers. One of her own. She couldn't quite comprehend the thought. She watched him soberly, unsure as he coughed and heaved a little. That surprised her a little more than the news. Remorse. Such remorse. It was infectious.

"What the fuck would Jonny think?"

Standing up, Delilah moved towards him and stood behind him for a moment, suddenly debating leaving. She frowned at herself, mad for her uncertainity and without thinking, she hugged him from behind, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing hers against his back. Her head cradeled itself in the crook of his left shoulder as she hugged him. For her, that said pretty much everything she thought but couldn't say. For some things, words were simply not enough.

[THE Justin]

He wasn't shocked when she stood. It was too much. He barely knew the girl, yet he just poured out his heart to her. He felt the cloudiness recede as she stood, and walked out.

But then a sudden pressure, and a bit of warmth against him. What..

What the fuck?

She was hugging him!? Why would she be hugging him. He was frozen momentarily, unable to decide what to do or think. This was the first female touch he had received since Sara fought him at the cafe.

His hand, slowly, moved upwards, resting on her arm that wrapped around him. He felt her chin resting on his shoulder, and part of him wanted to twist around and embrace her, but that might be too much. Instead he patted her arm, and then exhaled loudly.

"Thanks... I... I really needed that. I'm sorry I kinda just dumped it all on ya, twist. I mean, Delilah. A pretty name... seems kinda familiar."

He pondered the name some more...

"We've never met, have we?"

[Delilah A. Black]

She felt his hand touch her arm and she smiled a little, keeping her silence a while longer.

"Thanks... I... I really needed that. I'm sorry I kinda just dumped it all on ya, twist. I mean, Delilah. A pretty name... seems kinda familiar."

Delilah smiled faintly. "Thanks," They were silent for a while longer before Stu spoke again.

"We've never met, have we?"

She gave him another quick squeeze and released him before slipping onto the stool beside him. She thought about it for a moment and shook her head. "I'm pretty sure we haven't. There are a couple songs with my name in them out there though. 'Hey There, Delilah' by the Plain White T's and then there's 'Delilah' by Tom Jones. I like that one more. He can sing. Bah," she shook her head in an attempt to clear it. She was rambling. She waved to the bar tender for another beer for Stu and turned backk to the green-haired Brit. "Other than that..." She was a little hesitant to tell him, but he'd told her everything within --she checked the wall clock-- an hour of meeting him. He deserved that much. "I'm part of Militia myself. In fact...Gabriel so happens to be a friend of mine." she smiled again to show she meant no ill will and continued. "Don't be sorry for telling me, I was the one who asked after all. Now..." she tilted her head to the side a little and looked at him curiously. "Tell me why your eyes are like that."

[THE Justin]

Oof. Fuck, she was friends with Gabriel... he couldn't reveal why he took the boy's hand. That might ruin everything. The only person that could know was Gabriel... that's the only reason Militia hadn't crushed Stu yet.

He listened to her. She inquired about his eyes. He thought for a second, and then remember that not everyone had seen someone with black eyes like his.

"Oh, these? They're nothing. They each have their own story, right. So, the right one came from getting hit by a car. Blunt trama to the right temple from a mate of mine from back across the pond, Murdoc. Fucking tosser, you know.

The left came from when I was riding with the afformentioned tosser and he ran smack dab into a traffic stopper and sent me tumbling out the front. Doctors got know explanation, just that my eyes are completely blackened over as though bruised, but I can see just fine."

He smiled slightly, and rolled his eyes. A subtle ripple would all that would be seen by anyone else, but he knew what way his eyes were pointed, and that was towards the woman sitting next to him. It was the first time he had really gotten a good look at her.

And he was generally impressed.

He smiled, and ordered another round of shots. The bartender came over and gave Stu a little hell for damaging a mug, but Stu just dropped a 20 on the bar then and there. The man poured out two shots for him and the girl. Stu pushed it towards her, held his up to cheers, and then downed the burning liquid. This time a shot of Jim Beam Bourbon whiskey. Stu let out a loud sigh after drowning it.

"The rest, as the say, is history. What's your relation to Militia?" He had definitely noticed the changing of topics sh had tried to pull. And he was gonna play along, but he wanted to get it out in the open. "You know Johnny?"

[Delilah A. Black]

She listened to the story about his eyes and nodded. She wasn't exactly sure was a 'tosser' was, but it definitely carried a negative connotation. She could roll with that. Anyway, the story explained it...there had been a couple of drunken theories running through her head that she now completely ignored (Maybe he's a demon, lolololol...no seriously...) but this one definitely made more sense.

She picked up the shot he ordered for them both and raised it to him before throwing it back, wincing as the liquid fire burned a path down her throat before settling in her stomach, warming her from the inside. She set the glass down hard and smacked her lips. Her visions was slightly blurry now. DAMN but that was strong.

"The rest, as the say, is history. What's your relation to Militia? You know Johnny?" "

She grinned in reply to that. So, it hadn't worked as she thought it would. Ah well. What's a girl to do. She took a thoughtful sip of her cocktail as she turned that over in her mind. Johnny...who the hell was Johnny? "Uh, sorry, I have no idea who J--" her expression cleared as it clicked. "Oh, do you mean Winters?" She blushed a very deep shade of red suddenly and coughed into her hand. "I definitely uh...know him, that's for sure. I'm one of his Lieutenant Colonels, Elite sniper member. I'm used mostly for recon and espionage, that sorta thing." she shrugged as if it didn't matter and took a bigger swig of her drink. "How do you know him?" She asked without a hint of suspicion.