Thu Jun 17, 2010 8:31 pm by EagleRock
The Barracks Under Fire
by EagleRock
Epilogue - Two Years Later
Originally posted on October 4th, 2009
Phantom walked down the road in a particularly bad section of Newgrounds, in the General district, not far from the Flash Portal. Most dwellings were burnt out or abandoned, and the abundance of vagrants living in the streets were mind-boggling. It wasn't hard to find malicious entrants around here, either. Theft and murder were high. Most people in this city were smart enough to steer clear of this place. Those that were stupid enough to linger either just didn't care about death or had enough sense to carry a piece.
Phantom didn't seem to care. He strode down the road with utter disdain for the dangerous atmosphere around him. The dark and dreary night punctuated by the rain suited him perfectly. Dismal, dreary, and most importantly, alone. He was no stranger to this section of town, as he walked down this way many times before. He finally came upon his destination, a dirty and dingy dive that passed as a bar in this urban version of hell. Opening the worn and tattered wooden door in front of him, he came upon his usual night-time destination.
A first look inside would make any honest man cringe. It wasn't the kind of place you took your first date. Or any date. Or your bitch of an ex-wife. It was full of tired, drunk, and depressed individuals trying to find refuge in an otherwise sad existence. Most people around here took despair to a new level. However, this was the best place around to get cheap liquor. When you can easily spend hundreds of Grounds Gold in medical bills just trying to get into the place, fair market prices don't really apply. The bar patrons didn't seem to care, though. Most people were on the last strand of their pathetic life and were eager for a stray piece of blammunition to finish it off. Phantom sat down at his usual stool.
PossiblePancakes walked over to him behind the bar. "Hey there, Phantom...good to see you. What'll it be?"
"Scotch."
"The usual? Double on the rocks? White label?"
"No. Not in the mood for that cheap shit tonight. Gimme your best stuff."
"Best stuff, huh? Well, we have ourselves a beautiful bottle of 30-year single-malt that we just got in. Care for me to crack it open for you?"
"Yeah. Fill up that glass, too. And make it neat."
"Dude, this is 30-year scotch we're talking about, not malt liquor. You know how much a dram of that stuff costs?"
"Yes I do. Gimme."
"Dude, you already have enough of a tab racked up, and this stuff ain't cheap. I can't cover you for this one."
Phantom tilted his head slightly and had a sense of agitation in his voice. "Well then, why don't we make this one on the house instead?"
"Fuck you, Phantom. I'm not giving you this shit on the house. I don't care who you think you are."
At that, Phantom almost instinctively grabbed his .50 caliber blam pistol, cocked it, and slammed the butt against the bar, barrel trained at Pancakes. The impact of the weapon shook the entire bar, not to mention the bottles precariously stacked behind it. The noise from this was enough to shut up everyone in the room, as they stared on at Phantom.
Pancakes threw his arms up. "What the fuck, man?"
"Don't give me that shit. You really think I was born yesterday?"
"Dude, seriously. I think I put up with quite enough of you not paying your tab around here. I put my fucking neck on the line, and this is how you thank me?"
"Well then, lemme ask you this..." Phantom lifted his pistol and pointed it straight at Pancakes' head. "You get a lot of those nice Newgrounds businessmen with the admins in their pockets coming down to this place to do their negotiations?"
Pancakes winced. "Huh?"
"Tell me...how much 30-year scotch have you sold to the lowlife scum that go to this dump?" You could hear one or two of the patrons in the back slur out a disapproving remark.
"What are you talking about, man??"
"I guess you're just in the habit of keeping top-dollar booze around just in case Tom fucking Fulp comes along to meet with the fucking Queen of England?
"Dude, the boss just--"
"Just what, huh? Hoisted a shitload of stolen Flash and found a case of rare scotch as a bonus? Tell me...how much of a cut you get of that?"
"Dude, I didn't touch that shit and you know it. Why don't you--"
"DON'T fucking talk back to me, maggot! I'll tell you what's gonna happen. You're gonna pour me some of my fucking scotch, walk back to your little room, and I'm gonna drink all happy happy joy joy all fucking night. And your sorry ass sure as hell isn't gonna fucking bother me about a fucking tab. Why? Cause you'd fucking regret making me walk all the way back to the C&C district just to report a certain stolen batch of Flash I came across. Now that'd leave you in a pretty little mess that I'm sure your boss wouldn't be too happy about, huh?"
Phantom stared Pancakes down the sight of his drawn pistol, waiting for a response. Pancakes whipped around and grudgingly grabbed the dirtiest whiskey glass he could find and poured him his scotch.
Just as he went to shelve the bottle, Phantom said, "And you can leave that right here. That fifth will be coming with me tonight."
Pancakes uncaringly plopped the bottle down on the bar. "Whatever you say, sir. I forgot how you took care of yourself down here, no matter who you step on along the way. And you fucking know I had no part of that hoist."
"Doesn't bother me none. Just as long as you leave me the fuck alone."
"Whatever." Pancakes turned and walked away from the bar, muttering "Asshole" under his breath. He went into the staff room, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could.
The din slowly returned to the room, and people were no more concerned with Phantom than they were 2 minutes before. Phantom picked up his glass, and swirled the golden liquid around. The aroma was intoxicating, and had scents drawn from the legacy that preceded it. He nosed the glass for a good 30 seconds before taking his first sip. The peat hit him with a smokey warmth like no other as it clung to and coated his entire palette. Flavors from far away lands pierced his taste buds as he let golden liquid rest in his mouth, which caressed his senses with a smoothness rarely felt by any liquor. As he finished the sip, he felt fire go down his throat, giving it a satisfying burn as his entire existence was enveloped with hints of more flavors he'd care to count. The aftertastes came through the tingling sensation in his mouth that gave him a euphoric rush. He just sat there eyes closed, entranced in a world of flavor that seemed to last forever.
"I can see you haven't lost your worldly charms, Phantom."
Phantom spun around, breaking from his alcoholic trance to find Andrea364 standing next to him. "Oh, it's you."
"Well, it's so nice to see you too after all this time. I can see you're ALL about the pleasantries tonight."
"Hey, if I wanted fucking pleasantries, I wouldn't be fucking around in a dump like this."
"Anyone that calls their own nightly haunt a dump has their own problems, but it doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what you do want. You're looking to be alone."
"Holy crap, we have ourselves an Einstein here!" Phantom's sarcasm oozed through is pores. "I knew you had a brain up there. Now, on that note, why don't you act on this revelation of yours and fuck off?"
"Jesus fucking Christ. After all the shit we went through, I think you can spare me five fucking minutes, sir."
That last "sir" was the kind that could pierce souls. It stabbed Phantom and steadied his words, which generally just didn't happen. He took a large sigh as he stared at his drink. Turning away from her, he said, "Fine, have a seat." He dusted off the bar stool next to him. Andrea sat down.
"Well, wasn't that gentlemanly of you? I'd be inclined to buy you a drink, if you hadn't taken care of that for yourself already." She motioned at the fifth of scotch on the bar.
"Yeah, well, vigilanteism has its perks." He took another sip of his drink, enjoying the sensations once again.
"Is that what you call that? Coercing some guy to get yourself some free scotch?"
"Hey, I just do what I do to survive. Sometimes I help people out along the way. It's what I do. Besides, if it wasn't me, it would've just been someone else. That last hit this bar owner made was just a bit too sloppy."
Andrea stared down at the bottle of scotch sitting there. "You still didn't have to be so rough on that bartender. What'd he ever do to you?"
"Oh, him? Fuck him. If he knew any better, he wouldn't fucking be working here."
"You know him?"
"Sure, its PossiblePancakes."
"Really?? What the hell is he doing here? Isn't he still part of the Elite Guard?"
"Hell no. Quit not long after that trouble. Tried to make it as an artist. Still trying, actually. Found this dump when he was hard pressed to make ends meet."
"I just can't see him a quitter. He loved the Barracks."
"Yeah, was doing good there, too. He got promoted quick. He made it all the way to Master Sergeant before he burnt out and left."
"Well, that explains him being here, but what about you? What's a prestigious Supreme Commander like yourself doing in a shithole like this?"
Phantom took another large sip of scotch, which stayed him as it coated his body in sensation. The affects of the alcohol were already coming over him. It didn't take much of this stuff to get you sloshed. "I haven't been called Supreme Commander for years. I don't exactly do that anymore."
"You quit? YOU? How could YOU quit the Barracks?"
"You're passing judgment on me? Hell you quit right after we got out of that damn underground hellhole."
Andrea stared down at the bar. "Yeah, I know. I...I couldn't take it. After seeing Sentio, Eagle, it just...got to me, okay?"
"So you took refuge in writing your stupid stories."
"They're NOT stupid." She spun her head around quickly towards Phantom, causing her hair to wrap around her head. Giving him another bad look, she said, "I make enough money to get by, okay? At least I don't sit around in THIS place getting hammered to cheap whiskey night after night."
"Pardon me," Phantom said disdainfully. "That being said, what ARE you doing in this place?"
"Well, honestly, I came looking for you."
"Huh? Why me?"
"Well, I've heard rumors about this place and some Elite-Guard-turned-vigilante that comes by to bury his head in a glass every night. I didn't believe it, but I guess it's true."
"I guess news gets around."
"Yeah, well, that still begs the question...why quit the Barracks?"
"First off, I didn't quit, okay? I still work there on occasion, but I keep out of people's business. I go in, do some pencil pushing, get my gold and I'm off. All right?"
"Pencil pushing? You? Never thought I'd see the day the world's itchiest trigger-finger would be doing that."
"I..." Phantom stopped as he stared back down at his class. After gulping down another sip, he said, "I hung it up."
"Hung it up? As in no more protecting the Portal? I don't get it, though. I thought you lived for that stuff."
Letting out another sigh, Phantom said, "I did." He swirled the remnants of his drink around as he turned around that sentence in his head. "I...I couldn't do it anymore. As time wore on, things just ate at me. Things bothered me more and more, and it just...hit me one day. I...I couldn't go on. Turned in my blam rifle to Slash and told him I was done. Put him in charge, and that was that."
"Never thought I'd see that day. So exactly how do you go about being a vigilante if you claim to be a pencil pusher?"
"It's a good line to hide behind, isn't it? Keeps people out of my business and me out of trouble. But I haven't shot a gun since I left."
"That doesn't surprise me. Anyone as soused as you all the time would have trouble holding up a gun, let alone shoot it."
"That's enough out of you. I'll shoot when I need to. I just haven't had to."
"Fair enough." The conversation paused for a minute, giving Andrea a minute to take in the surroundings. Listening to the background noise and staring behind the bar, she looked at the rows of alcohol lined up on glass shelves, which looked like they were in desperate need of replacement. "Where the hell is Pancakes, anyway? I thought you said he tended the bar here."
"Doesn't mean he actually does it when he's supposed to. Probably grabbing a smoke out back or fucking around with some worthless piece of ass."
"...You're not nice to your friends, are you?"
"Friends," Phantom repeated as he narrowed his eyes. "Who are MY friends? Are they the ones that stood by my side, only to betray me and get everyone around me killed? Really. Who can you call a friend these days? Who the FUCK can you trust?"
Andrea paused at this. "Still bitter about Slash I see. Why name him your successor, then?"
Phantom looked up at the dim lights and the lines of dust-laden wine glasses that hovered over the bar. "Cause he does right. Sure, he fucked us over big time, but in the end, he really came through. Never saw a man do a turnaround like that before. Not since Pancakes, anyway."
"He's still in charge?"
"Yeah. Still doing his EagleRock thing. Recruiting people, fighting the good fight, blah blah blah, keeping the Barracks alive."
"What made him turn around so much?"
"Oh hell, you saw how he was after that whole thing was over. Damn near killed himself over what he did. It was obvious it was a fuckup. Apologized up and down to everyone, and you could sure as hell tell he meant it."
"Still, how could people forgive him?"
"How could they not? Eagle was all about giving people second chances and letting these people that wanna be do-gooders do good. It was painful naming Slash second in command, but I did it."
"Damn, I missed all this."
"Well, you up and ran pretty fast there, missy. You missed out on a lot."
"Yeah, I know. It was tough for me…you saw. Still, I--I wish I..." She stopped mid-sentence. "Hey where the fuck is Pancakes?? I need a drink."
"Here." Phantom pushed the bottle of scotch towards Andrea.
"No thanks. I can't drink that stuff. I need something that tastes a little less like turpentine."
"Nothing like a good scotch."
"Ugh," Andrea said in disgust as she watched Phantom slide the rest of the scotch down his throat and slam the glass down on the bar. "Anyway, so what else happened when I left? What happened to the survivors? Did they all turn out as hopeless as we did?"
"Well, I'd say Slash is doing pretty well for himself."
"Besides the born-again."
"Well, Coop did pretty well for himself, too. When he was promoted to Supreme Commander, he took up a third-in-command role under Slash and me. When I left, that made him the second banana. Stuck around the Barracks more, too. Kept himself busy in the records room sometimes, and seemed to really be into talking to the new recruits and stuff."
"I remember he was always a big loner. Never really came by much."
"Yeah, that turned around after we came back. I think what happened down there kinda stuck with him. Even got himself modded for it. As it turned out, trading places with me as the Barracks loner was the best thing that could've happened to him."
"What about the rest?"
"The rest of what?"
"The survivors."
"There was no one else, remember? Rest got slaughtered."
Andrea looked down again. "Damn. I thought maybe a few more would've turned up or something."
"Nope. That was it. No mods got through, either. Save Wade and Tom, that is."
"Barracks must be pretty empty."
"Well, it was at first, but Slash got it filled up pretty quick, sporting his pretty-boy charms and pushing the ideals he clutches to so dearly."
"Oh, don't talk like he's some kind of goody two-shoes. You hold yourself to the same ideals and you know it. You used to cram that shit down our throats day and night."
Phantom sighed yet again. "Yeah, I did. But doesn't mean I have to do anything about it. I don't do that shit anymore, remember?"
"Yeah, whatever. You said that a dozen times already. But I must admit, I still wish I could-- GOD DAMMIT, WHAT'S A GIRL GOTTA DO TO GET A FUCKING DRINK AROUND HERE!" Andrea slammed the bar with her fist."
"All RIGHT, all RIGHT! Keep your fucking pants on!" Pancakes yelled from inside. He came out and saw Andrea sitting next to Phantom. He blinked.
"Andrea? W-what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for a fucking lager. Care to hook me up?"
"Sheesh. Pushy as ever." He came over, carefully ignoring Phantom as he drafted a lager for her.
"You can put that one on my tab," said Phantom.
"Fuck you, Phantom. Don't you have a job to not go to?"
"Yeah, whatever. I'm outta here. You two play catchup all nice now, hear me?" Phantom grabbed his bottle of scotch and stumbled out the door.
"Prick," said Pancakes.
"Tell me about it," replied Andrea. "So that's what came to be of our illustrious leader. I had to see it to believe it."
"Yeah, well, try seeing it every night. Anyway, enough about him. How's life treating you?"
-----
Phantom pushed his way out of the bar and walked a few blocks down the street. He stopped in front of a nearby alley and chugged from his bottle. His senses were too dulled to truly appreciate the rare whisky he was drinking, but he still felt the strong burning sensation enveloping his throat. As he lowered the bottle, he drunkenly snapped his head down and forward to stare at the label. The gold print on the label shone against the dim light from the street lamp overhead. "Waste of a good scotch," he muttered to himself. He stumbled over to one of the wrapped-up vagrants sitting in the alley and shoved the bottle in his hand. "All yours, buddy." He then proceeded to walk away into the night.
"Hey, mister...that's awfully kind of you!" the vagrant called out. Phantom turned back. The vagrant stood up, showing that he was clothed in a dirty robe that enveloped his body and covered his face. Looked like just another useless member of society.
"Think nothing of it. It's a waste on me, anyway."
"Well, if you're in the habit of chugging expensive scotch like there's no tomorrow, I would say so."
"Hey! Who the hell do you think you are judging me? Go back to your fucking alley."
"Now now, calm down, I'm just trying to return the favor here."
"There's nothing you can do for me. Now leave me alone."
"I wouldn't be so sure. I want you to have this." The vagrant pulled out a blam rifle out of his robe and gestured towards Phantom.
Phantom stopped. "Where the fuck did you get this?"
"I figure you need it more than me."
Phantom took the rifle and gave it a good look. "Yeah, but where did you get this? This ain't no pea-shooter, you know. In fact, this isn't even civilian-legal...advanced scope, extended magazine…hell, this is Elite Guard equipment...officer-grade!"
"Seems like you know your stuff. You should know how to use it, then."
"Don't play with me." He stared at the cloak-covered body in front of him. "Where the hell did you get this?"
"I know people. It was given to me."
"Bullshit. I don't know of any Elite Guard that'd give away a weapon like this."
"I don't know of anyone that'd give away a 30-year single-malt to some bum on the street, either."
Again, Phantom words stopped in this throat before he could speak. This vagrant didn't talk like the usual bums around here. The cloak he wrapped himself in hid a stature you generally don't see from most. It didn't add up. He tried to focus in on the person, but his vision had already started to blur from the alcohol. "Who...who are you?"
"I think the better question is, who are you?"
"I--"
"Are you some guy that's gonna let himself curl up and die inside a bottle, or are you going to go out there and make something of yourself again?"
"You--"
"That's no Supreme Commander to me. Some namesake you have."
"But--"
"You know what you need to do. You certainly don't need me to tell you. And hey, thanks again for the scotch. I'll enjoy it." The vagrant turned around to leave.
"Wait a minute!"
The vagrant stopped, turning back at Phantom. "Oh, and to answer your question, a 'friend' might not be an easy thing to define, but they certainly not hard to pick out when you find one. Like the one keeping a trigger-happy bar owner off your back over your expensive drinking habit. Or the one that came to find you after not seeing you for two years in the shittiest section of town. Think about it." The vagrant then turned around again and started off.
"HEY!" Phantom tried to give chase, but his drunken stupor had caught up to him. He tripped and fell in the middle of the street, letting the vagrant escape. Shaking his head and trying to focus his eyes, he stared at the rifle he let fall to the ground. It was definitely not a common piece of equipment, even for an Elite Guard. Whoever this belonged to wasn't your average safety patroller.
Examining the weapon more, he noticed it was quite similar to the weapon he once used. Then, he remembered that all officer-grade weapons were tagged. Turning the rifle around so he could look at the bottom of the grip, he indeed found an Elite Guard name tag on the bottom. The name read "EGSC Phantom." Phantom shook his head around trying to shake off the effects of the alcohol to no avail. He read the tag again, and sure enough it still said his name. The gun was his.
Phantom stood up, still trying to shake the dizziness out of his head. He shouldered the rifle and looked around for any sign of the vagrant. The street was deserted with no signs of coherent life, other than his. The street was completely barren, except for the occasional raindrop, debris, and something he couldn't quite make out in the distance.
Moving closer and straining his eyes to focus, Phantom saw what appeared to be a weak entrant from the Portal. Phantom took up the rifle, and used its scope to get a better look. Sure enough, it was a particularly poor entrant that looked like it had been hit with blammunition many times already, but didn't quite get finished off. Phantom closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. He pulled up the rifle, focused the scope and trained his shot. He squeezed the trigger.
Sure enough, Phantom's shot held true and hit the entrant square on. The sound of the blam rifle cut through the silence and ricocheted through the urban decay. The entrant was blammed right then and there. Phantom all of a sudden had a rush in his body like he hadn't felt for years, a feeling like no other that no amount of good scotch could ever compare to. The satisfying justice of the well-placed shot gave his cold, rained out body a warmth like he hadn't felt for years. This newfound fervor ran deep and pierced his soul, giving him a full-body shiver. The rush he was feeling cleared his vision and made his head considerably less dizzy.
He let out an audible gasp as he panted and looked around. He scanned the area and noticed another entrant in the distance that looked pretty malicious that was in fact harassing a vagrant in the shadows. Another quick shot with the blam rifle neutralized the situation with another deafening bang. His pulse quickened, and whole body throbbed with every pulse of blood going through his veins. His vision was clear again, except when it blurred slightly every time his heart gave his body that strong, adrenaline-fueled thump. By now, he had several vagrants popping out of their dark corners to look on at him. For the vagrants that lived in these streets, he started doing what no one had bothered to do for the longest time. While malicious entrants were still violently hunt down in Newgrounds, no one ever cared to do it down here. Onlookers stared his every action, waiting to see what he'd do next. He was flying higher than a kite, and raring for more.
Phantom started to rush towards the Portal, but soon stopped himself. His mind carried him back to what the vagrant said to him. After yet another sobering realization, he knew what he had to do.
-----
"I dunno, Andrea, life just doesn't pan out like you expect it to," said Pancakes, still at the bar. He'd taken to drinking a copious amount of beer himself.
"Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?"
"I need to get the hell out of here, that's what."
"Yeah, so? What's stopping you? You're too good to be working in this joint."
"I dunno...what would I do?"
"Go back to the Barracks, that's what. You know you belong there."
"No, I can't go back there. Hell even when I WAS there it was only Eagle that stood up for me. My reputation preceded me, you know?"
"Sounds like a cop-out to me."
"Yeah, well, that's how it is. Sometimes, you just can't go back, Guess I'd better--"
Just then, Phantom burst open the door slamming it on its hinges against the wall.
"What the fuck?" yelled Pancakes, looking up from his beer. "What are you doing back here?"
Phantom held up his blam rifle for the whole bar to see. "I'm here for you two. Get your stuff and let's go."
"Wait a minute, what's with the rifle?" said Andrea.
"Long story. I'll tell you later."
"Go?" asked Pancakes. "Go where?"
"Go protect the Portal of course!"
Andrea stared back at Pancakes. Looking back at Phantom, she said, "What the hell's gotten into you? Where'd this come from all of a sudden? Not one hour ago I find you in here getting bombed to all hell, now this?"
"Look, I'm not going to stand here all day explaining myself. I need to go back out there, and I can't do it alone. I need a few of my friends to come with me. Are you in or out?"
Pancakes paused at hearing this. "But--"
"No buts. I know you want out of this hell hole and you know it too. Now, do you have a piece?"
Pancakes stuttered, "Well yeah, but it's in the back--"
"Get it, dammit!"
"Y-yessir." Pancakes ran to the back room.
"How about you? You have a weapon?"
Andrea said, "Well, no. I don't carry anymore."
Phantom unsheathed his sidearm and tossed it at Andrea. "There. Now get your stuff...let's go!"
Andrea was speechless. She stared at the Phantom's blam pistol, which was a rather impressive weapon, even for a Supreme Commander. It sure wasn't the kind of weapon anyone could just up and buy. Even the years of tarnish and dirt on the silver barrel couldn't hide its beauty and power. As she squeezed the grip, she felt an urge returning from inside of her. She looked back up at Phantom, still not saying a word.
"Come on, goddammit! I don't have all day! I'll be waiting outside and I expect to see you two out there! Move it!"
Phantom ambled out the door, shutting it behind him. He walked back out into the street, staring down its path towards the Portal. His heart was racing and blood was pumping faster than it did in years. Waiting in anticipation of Pancakes and Andrea to come out, he scanned the area and saw the same vagrant leaning against the corner of the bar, staring back at Phantom.
Phantom, as a loss for words, was only able to say "Thanks." The vagrant took his cloak that covered his head, lifted it up, and cast it back. He then looked up and stared back at Phantom. Phantom's eyes went wide. They held eye contact for a second or two before the vagrant smiled then turned away and walked into the alley.
Phantom's chin dropped down to the ground as he cried out "WAIT!!!" Phantom went dashing into the alleyway in chase, only to bump into Andrea and Pancakes, who were coming out the back door to meet him.
"Jesus, you startled me!" Pancakes said to Phantom.
"Wait, wait, did you see him?"
"Who?" asked Andrea.
"That guy! The one that just ran into the alley! You didn't see him??"
Pancakes and Andrea just looked at each other. "What guy?" asked Pancakes.
"There was a guy that ran into the alley just now! How could you have missed him?"
Andrea raised an eyebrow, saying, "You all right?"
Phantom looked at them, then looked back out the alley, down the street. He paused for a second or two before calming his voice and staring back at the two, saying, "Yeah. Never better." He smirked, cocked his blam rifle, squinted his eyes, and said, "Let's do this."
The End.