Just above the doors of the bar, was an old and weathered wooden sign, with spawled letters in red-- The No Name. Stationed on the Rock, this bar was home to many outlaws and a shipload of criminals.
The air was tinged with the faint smell of roses, and was warm yet not humid. There were 9 tables, all wooden with six chairs around each, and a bar at the far end of the 30 by 40 foot bar, rimmed by stools and sporting a backdrop of brandies, beers and other soft drinks.
Strange was the contrast of old wood and futuristic ventilation, so the top of the bar was covered in neatly placed wood and had a few rafters builty over steel girders, to give it an old-fashioned style appearance to it. A light mist tinged the ground, almost unnoticable but a comfortable addition to the tavern. The bar is itself is marble, polished so you can see yourslef slightly through the ever so thin fog.
Dechtran Zel nonchalantly sat behind that bar, leaning his chair back slightly as he cleaned a spotless glass. The wealthy outlaw had a smart grin on his face and was whistling lightly, occasionally glancing over at another figure who was typing inhumanely fast on a small laptop. He then placed the glass down and picked up a Coke, wondering what decorations he would need. Already there were weapons on the walls--swords, lances, axes-- but he wanted to spice it up. Behind him there was overly polished glass and bottles full of ingedients, awaiting orders and patrons.
The curious man who was only known as The Hacker was cheerfully typing away and then whooped inwardly, the screen now completely black, and saying one simple word with a blank box next to it.
PASSWORD:_______________
A blank expression came over The Mentor's face. Then he shrugged and typed away, until it was blinking green.
ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME TO THE BANKING FOUNDATION VAULT. WITHDRAWL:____________
"Hmm..." The Hacker wondered...
WITHDRAWL: 300,000 $ (three hundred thousand dollars)
MONEY TO BE PAID DIRECTLY TO YOU, MR.______
"What!? I need a name!? Hm..." A curt, smartalike smiled crept over his face.
NAME: Mrs. Kricddi
Just a nickname rearranged. He sat back and stretched with a yawn.
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I hate people with fancy signatures. ._.
(This message has been edited by Phantasmaegoria (edited 06-11-2004).)
(This message has been edited by Phantasmaegoria (edited 06-11-2004).)