Karrl had only been in the US, namely New York, for a few hours. He had a plan on what he was going to do here, and it was not a vacation. However, before he was going to head to his main location he was looking for somewhere he could go and drink. Karrl, thanks to his hair, looked a little older than he was, so, even though the drinking age was a little older, he was sure he could find a place where he could sneak in a drink or two just because he looked in his early to mid-twenties, instead of his actual age, eighteen.

He had asked about for a good place to drink, nothing fancy, just a quiet place, out of the way, where he could get a beer or two. It did not take him long to find a place they called a dive bar, which, at first glance was pretty run down, he would not have been surprised if it just passed any kind of inspection. However, as he had walked in he saw it was pretty clean. He had been told the area he was in was called Hell’s Kitchen, a place a pretty boy like him should not be. However, Karrl was not afraid of a fight, that was something anyone who would be stupid enough to pick one would find out quite quickly.

When he walked in, it was clear he stood out like a sore thumb, but it did not bother him in the slightest, it was full of low lives, bikes and generally dodgy looking characters, in a way, and in an American style, it reminded him of the Three Bolts, the biker bar he hung out in back in London. Karrl smiled and walked up to the bar. The barman took one look at him and asked what he wanted. He ordered a beer, however, sitting in the corner was a pretty little thing, tattooed up, with a few piercings, exactly Karrl’s type. He then pointed to the woman and asked the barman what she was having, the barman smirked and poured another pint before handed it to him. Karrl paid the man, plus a little something extra before walking over to the woman.

As soon as he got there he placed the drink in front of her and then sat down opposite her, with a confident smile on his face. Karrl took off his sunglasses, and placed them on the top of his head. His eyes peered deeply into her, and even though she looked tough, she smiled bashfully and took the drink. Karrl did not say anything for the moment, he let his smile and eyes do the talking for a little while, quite enjoying his drink and the company of this American beauty. However, this would soon be over, because Karrl should have realised someone as pretty as her in a bar like this was either hard as all hell or had someone with her.

Karrl soon found out that she had someone with her, a burly looking guy, and even though Karrl was not a small lad, the guy, obviously, a biker, had a good six inches and one hundred pounds on him. The biker walked up and barked, “She’s with me.” Karrl looked up and smiled, “Don’t you mean she was with you.” The biker grew angry and picked Karrl up by his collar, the woman tried to calm her boyfriend down saying he just bought her a drink, the biker ignored her, “So Brit, you think you can use that pretty face of yours to try and steal my woman?” Karrl, even though hoisted off his feet just dangled there slightly and smirked, “Maybe, and I’m English you idiot, how could I be an entire collection of counties.”

The biker grew even more angry, “Let’s see how well you do with that smart mouth when I knock a few teeth out of it.” With that the biker pulled his arm back, but as soon as this happened, before the biker could even blink he was put into an arm lock, and his head smashed into a table. Karrl then pulled the guy up and just before he knocked him out with a strong right hook he said, “Be careful who you pick a fight with Yank, not every Englishman is a tea drinking sissy.” Once the left hook connected and the biker was out for the count the barman barked for him to get out. Karrl sighed, downed his pint and winked at the lady who was shocked about what she had just see, before Karrl put his sunglasses back on his face and headed out of the bar.

The Ranger could only handle the rush and faked sophistication of New York City for so long before he would find himself around people a little lower on the totem pole. Blue collar folk were blue collar were blue collar folk, the accent may change but the attitudes stayed the same. This meant he could get the closest to a trip back home in some of the smaller beer joints and dive bars. It was in no means a close substitute, but at least these people seemed more honest, even if they were likely a bunch of criminals.

This particular bar in Hell’s Kitchen was one Ranger had been to a couple times, and due to the nature of such places had helped the barkeep a few times by being an impromptu bouncer. This meant some of the patrons who would normally try to start something steered clear of him.

Sitting at the bar, a bottle of Shiner Bock which he’d convinced the owner to bring in, in his hand he got an almost front row view of some kid picking a fight with one of the regulars. The Ranger quickly downed his beer and stood up after he saw the man lift the kid off his feet. Though, before he could make his way over to intervene the kid had laid the man out.

Predictably, the barkeep threw the kid out. The Ranger turned back to his now empty bottle, dropped a few dollars down and grabbed his black Resistol. Money paid and hat retrieved he turned and followed the man out.

The guy the kid had handled was one of the bigger assholes in that bar, literally and figuratively, he hadn’t done something bad enough that the Ranger had felt he needed to handle it yet, but it would have been only a matter of time. It was also nice to hear someone else throwing out yank or yankee as a disparaging name.

Outside the bar Ranger slid on his sunglasses and spoke to the kid, ”Nice work in there. Fred had it comin’.” his Texas accent, ten-gallon hat, and ostrich boots immediately putting him out of place here in the middle of the city. ”Not exac’ly the best way t’ make sure you can keep comin’ t’ a bar, but t’ each their own I guess.”

As Karrl walked he heard someone call for him, well, not by name, he would be surprised, and a little worried if there were people he knew here. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, pushing down his sunglasses to the base of his nose to get a better look at him. He had to admit, it took everything in him not to laugh. What the guy looked like was something out of a western. Of course, he was not about to judge, Karrl hardly blended in with the crowd, wearing something that screamed nineties rocker, but what made his stand out with his shoulder length styled scruffy hair, but not because of the fact that it was styled that way but the colour, it belonged to someone thirty, or maybe forty years older than him, being grey almost white.

When he heard, the Texan speak about how Fred had it coming Karrl smiled, “What can I say, a dog can bark all it wants at me, but as soon as it starts biting it’s going to be put down. Hell, if he had asked nicely to back off his girl I would have probably done it, I’ve not travelled all the way from London just to get into fights. If I wanted that I would have stuck around the biker bars I grew up in.” Okay, Karrl didn’t need to say the last part, but something told him that it might have been better to just let that little bit of information out, since, the Texan looked like the type to step in if someone was getting out of hand, something Karrl planed not to do, at least for the moment.

However, the next thing the Texan said made Karrl bark out a laugh, You’ve got a point there Texan” Karrl reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes before going through the process of lightning one up with a cheap looking lighter. Once he had taken a puff Karrl continued to speak, “However, if I let one dog bite at me, it sets precedence that to the other mutts out there and I’d rather be thrown out of one bar and have less grief in the long run than be allowed in there and seem like I can be pushed around, you know what I mean?” Karrl may have looked young-ish, but it was clear that he had a lot more life experience than the average person his age.

”Wrong bar if you think someone is goin’ t’ ask y’ t’ jus’ back down. ‘Specially if y’re smaller than they are. Mos’ people ain’t fig’red out sometimes the smaller guy actually knows what they’re doin’.” The Ranger commented before asking, ”What brings y’ Stateside?”

The kid was decent at guessing accents, or maybe that was just how well known the various accents from Texas were in Britain. The kid pulled out a pack of smokes and lit one up. He then proceeded with some good advice if you ever wind up in prison or a third world country. ”No disagreement there, y’ have t’ put down the dog that bites. But, y’ normally take ‘em out back t’ shoot ‘em. Fight’s here happen enough an' as long as someone drags someone else out the door, it’s all good.”

The Ranger extended his hand, as much pride as he had in being a Texan he felt he should give the kid a name to call him, ”I’m Michael by the way.”

Karrl couldn’t help but laugh at him comment about the people at that bar not being smart enough to figure out it’s not the biggest dog that wins the fight but the one that bites the hardest. Karrl only laughed for a short time before he went back to his usual calm, but confident smile, “You got a point there, I’ll keep that in mind when I go back to apologize to the barman. The bar seems like my kind of place, reminds me of the Three Bolts back in London, good atmosphere, and decent prices, too bad the beer they serve is swill, but you can’t have it all, after all, American beer and sex on a boat have something in common, they’re both f*****g close to water.”

However, when the Texan asked why he was in the US, this was something he could not openly speak about, not completely at least, it was not exactly something to be admitted, not if he wanted to keep his pretty rear out of jail, after all, he could not blurt and he was in a gang ass a hired hitman, and he needed to get his ass out of the country before he was linked to them. However, this guy seemed to be alright, so he was not going to out and out lie, just give him a half truth, “Need a change of scenery, thought I would see what the US had to offer, plus, want to continue with my education, after all, I hear the US has some pretty good business schools.”

When the man commented on agreeing on what Karrl had to say Karrl did not say much in return, there was no real need to, they were both in agreement on what Karrl had said, but the Texan said some of his own advice, which he took to heart, but he was not about to kill someone, he was trying to put that life behind him, sure he loved a good fight, but if he could he would stay away from the killing business, he had managed to keep his neck off the chopping block once, he was not about to tempt fate again. However, when the Texan introduced himself as Michael, and offered his hand, Karrl put his smoke in his mouth and accepted the hand before respond, “The name’s Karrl.”

”Mac doesn’ really care much ‘bout apologies. I’ll let him know I clued y’ in. That’ll be good ‘nough for him. At leas’ for all the water they sell up here they aren’t pushin’ armadillo piss.” Lone Star beer, the self described ‘National Beer of Texas.’ Best known by its drinkers as armadillo piss. ”That’s one beer I don’ miss up here.”

Something told the Ranger that the kid wasn’t being completely honest about why he was here in the States. Not that it was the Ranger’s business, as long as he watched where he F-bombed. The Ranger may not be in Texas anymore but that doesn’t mean he won’t get in someone’s face over language in front of ladies. ”This City’s not a bad place t’ look f’r that. Heart of American business.”

The kid introduced himself as Karrl, ”Good t’ meet y’ Karrl. Let’s get y’ square with Mac” While Karrl was smoking the Ranger poked his head back inside the bar. ”Alright, Mac. I let the kid in on how it works here.”

The barkeep, Mac, looked up from the bar and nodded. The Ranger turned back to Karrl. ”Next round on me?”

Karrl stood there and listened to what Michael had to say about the barman and not being much for apologies, he could understand that, in fact, in that was this Mac guy was similar to Greg, one of the few guys in this world he would not want to piss off, not because Karrl was worried about getting beaten up, very few humans could do that, but because of two main reasons, one if he crossed Greg he crossed the entire bar, and even Karrl would have trouble was a whole bar of angry bikers, and two, he like the guy, plus there was the added factor of him being his main supply of booze, well, back when he was in London at least.

When the Texan commented on New York being the American heart of business, he nodded, “So I hear, I already have a small business back in London, but no harm in expanding my knowledge, plus getting some business contacts over here, you know, to get parts shipped back to my garage, it’s a pain in the ass finding a reliable source of American parts back in the UK, well, for decent prices at least. Then, I wouldn’t mind looking into expanding as well, if I do plan to stay here at least. However, that’s for the long run, so, no real thoughts on that part neither here nor there.” With that Karrl shrugged and went back to smoking whilst Mike headed back into the bar.


After a short time, enough time for Karrl to finish his smoke at least things had been sorted with Mac. Mike walked back out and offered to buy him a drink, with that Karrl smirked and, after butting out his smoke on the pavement he responded, “Sounds like a plan Mike.” With that he headed back into the bar, and looked around, Frank seemed to be coming to, but man he was going to have some bruises on his face for a few days, not that it really bothered him. Karrl walked up to the bar and sat down waiting for the Texan, he would probably have what he was having, after all, he was not all too familiar with American beers, so, he thought he would try out what he was having.

Michael took a seat at the bar by Karrl and ordered a pair of Shiner Bocks. It wasn’t anything fancy, though it was definitely a rarity here in New York City as you could count the number of places with it on your hands. Such was the power of patronage… and good tipping.

”What kind of business do y’ have? Y’ mentioned a garage, is it automotive?”

Mac dropped off a pair of Shiners and the Ranger took one, pressed the cap into the underside of his forearm and twisted the cap off with a quick, practiced motion. ”Cheers.” Ranger said before taking a swig of it. He wasn’t into any drinking customs where one clinked glasses, cheers was just a thing people said before drinking a freshly opened beer.

When Mike sat down next to him he nodded and looked at the bar. He was not used to sharing company with men, outside of the bikers from the Three Bolts, and the members of the Olympians. Basically, it had been a long time since he had hung out, in any fashion with a guy he did not know. However, he seemed to be an alright type of guy, a little gruff, which was nothing new to Karrl, however, he was not sure what to say, since it had been, as stated before, a long time since he needed to spark up any introductory conversation with another guy.

However, thankfully, Mike took it upon himself to ask a question, and about his business. It was at that time that Mac dropped off the beers, which Karrl took with a thanks. He looked at it for a moment before flicking off the top and right into the bottle bin behind the bar. With that he looked at Mike and in response, “Cheers mate.” With that he took a swig of the beer. It was not that bad, for an American brew at least, he might even come to like it, given enough time and bottles. However, he did miss good old fashioned English ale, he wondered if there was anywhere that did an IPA.

He then realised he left Mike hanging on the question before, about his business, “Oh, about your question earlier, yeah, it’s automotive, I’m a mechanic by trade, like my father. He got me into the business from a young age, and… when he died, I inherited the garage, however, I’m not entitled rich kid, for one thing I’m not rich, but, I plan to continue to make my father’s garage thrive, it was one of the reasons why I studied business and economics, to help with that, along with auto mechanics, to improve my skills, and to have a valid qualification in the subject, you know, life experience does not go over to well as your only qualification, when trying to find funder to expand.”

Karrl was a mechanic by trade, and inherited his business. The Ranger knew how that was, his own parents' passing leaving him with an oil business he had since liquidated to fund his own business. The liquidation having been a good choice when he did it as the oil market had the bottom fall out shortly there after.

"Is it a general automotive shop or have yall specialized? If y'r sourcin' parts here you must do a fair amount of work on American cars I'd imagine." The Ranger drank some more of his beer. "I Learned enough about cars back home to keep my rides maintained. Though,, I've kept it simple. Old muscle car, trucks, and a motorcycle. Unless somethin' catastrophic happens I can cover most repair work on my own stuff." The Ranger chuckled before continuing, "Y' probably wish there were less people like me tha' can manage the simple stuff on their own rides out there."

Karrl took a swig of his beer as he asked about they were general of specialised, “General for the most part, but we do offer a specialised service, if they have the patience and the cash, I will build them a machine from the ground up, if they know what they want in general, of course if they know there stuff, like any particular parts they want to use, it cheaper for them, since I usually put additional service charges for the time it takes to map out the machine itself.” He looked around for a moment as he took another swig.

When he asked about the parts and doing work on American cars he nodded, “We do get some work on American Muscle cars and stuff like that, but most of our business comes from Harleys. There’s a number of biker gangs around where I come from, including a British Chapter of the Hell’s Angels. They did most of their work with my father, back when he was alive, but they’ve known me since I was a kid, hell some of my relatives are in one of the gangs, so they know I know my stuff so there was no real need to build trust and business kept on going. I just hope the guy I left in charge is up to the challenge.”

As Mike commented on Karrl wishing there were less people who could take care of their own rides Karrl could not help but laugh himself, “I’d be lying if I said no, however, especially since I’m scoping out the area for parts as well as thinking about expanding the business over here, people like you do have their uses.” Of course, he was talking about hired help, along with knowing the right places to pick up parts on the cheap, not because he was trying to con his future potential customers, but the lower he needs to buy the lower he needs to sell and still make a steady profit, Karrl may not have been overly ethical about most things, but when it came to sorting out his customers he was also above board.

His garage worked on Harley's, that explained why sourcing American parts would be on his to do list. While working on American muscle would need some, the sheer number of Harley's they'd be working on if they were a garage of choice for the Hell's Angels over there would necessitate it.

The Ranger chuckled briefly at Karrl's comment about people like the Ranger having their uses."People like me. Well, maybe those who can work on cars. There ain't many people really like me here here. And I don' mean jus' this city." He drank more of his beer.

"I own Blackforest Tactical, a small private military company." If Karrl expanded to the states, having a working relationship with a mechanic could prove useful. The Fordasaurus was a monster to maintain by himself. Though, such is life when you take a Ford F650 and convert it into a mobile staging platform for tactical operations.

Karrl smiled a little when he commented on the uses this. Karrl was starting to feel more at ease around the guy, maybe it was the booze, but he doubted it, it would take a lot more than a couple of drinks to even phase Karrl, thanks to his mutant abilities. However, he knew there was the whole thing that two men might find it was little easier to bond over a beer, so that might be the case. However, Karrl was not about to openly say that, Karrl was not the mushiest type in the best of cases, and defiantly not around another guy.

However, when Mike mentioned that he ran a private military company Karrl nodded and took a swig of beer, “A merc hey, I did a bit of that work when I was back in England, sure I’m not military trained or anything, but I know my way around a battlefield.” Karrl was talking about the fact he had, back in England, been a hitman. Karrl was trying to leave that world behind him, however, aside of mechanics, and well woman, fighting was probably the only thing he was actually good at. He wondered if doing merc work might be a little cleaner than just being and out and out killer.

With that line of thought he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, his business card, and grabbed a pen writing a number down. He then handed it to Mike, “If you need some extra hands, or just need to get some work done on your vehicles, just give me a ring, I offer good rates, both on mechanics and, other work.” With that he drained his beer and smiled, “Right, I’d better be off, need to find myself a place to crash for the night until I can set something up more permanent. Thanks for the drink.” With that he grabbed his coat and headed off, however before he left he dropped a twenty on Mac and explained it was for Mike’s next few drinks.

The Ranger was surprised, Karrl not only was a mechanic but a mercenary as well. Or at least, he was. What was interesting was he stated that he was not military but knew his way around a battlefield. While most mercenaries started as soldiers there were those few that didn't, while no less effective they often had a different take on how everything should be handled.

And at that point Karrl whipped out his card and wrote his number on it before handing it over. The Ranger took it saying, "Thanks, I'll keep y' in mind." as he slipped the card into a pocket.

“Right, I’d better be off, need to find myself a place to crash for the night until I can set something up more permanent. Thanks for the drink.” Karrl was up and leaving, cash left behind on the counter. The Ranger gave him a very slight tip of his cowboy hat to Karrl.

"Adios, Karrl." The Ranger turned back to his beer, finished it and ordered another.