We landed on the planet and docked on one of the large grey circular platforms that acted as a docking station. Descending to the surface I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t an area that resembled a dilapidated downtown.

  It didn’t have the pristine and polished look of a New York skyline, or the reserved elegance of the city of Rome.

  No.

  Instead, it looked like a street worker who smoked forty a day and was on her last legs but couldn’t give up the game because she knew nothing else.

  Dirty grey buildings gave way to dirtier streets and every street corner looked like it ended in an alleyway a thief would dream of. As I stared at the location the crew had brought me to, a wave of despair overcame me.

  This was where dreams came to die. This was where my body would turn to dust; I would never see my kids again, I would never get to lie in my bed. This was where it would all end.

  “What do you think?” Poppy asked, coming to rest next to my shoulder.

  I looked over the city, lost for words.

  “Stunning, isn’t it? As the saying goes, if you can make it here you can make it anywhere. Safe Haven has been our home since the crew formed, and the borough of Paradise Lost is where we reside.

  “The planet isn’t controlled by any government or ruling body, but the gangs that populate the planet have a sort of alliance. Like cats trying their best not to start a fight.”

  “Everything works and everyone gets on,” José said, coming to stand next to us, “as long as you don’t show weakness. This is more of a jungle than New York ever was. You say the wrong thing, you’re dead. You do the wrong thing, you’re dead. You offend the wrong person, you’re dead.”

  “How do you survive then?” I asked around the lump in my throat.

  “By doing and saying the right thing, amigo.”

  “But more importantly,” Poppy said, giving me an elbow nudge, “by not being weak.”

  “God, I hate this shit hole,” Willis shouted from the rear. “Fire and brimstone shall plague this borough destroying it where judgement shall be passed on the—”

  “Will you shut the hell up, you pubic-faced ginger idiot? What do you all say we head to The Office for a drink? I’m feeling thirsty after all my hard work,” Tuari said.

  “Your hard work! You did nothing but stay on the ship, while the rest of us did all the heavy lifting!” Willis said.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I helped—who told you where your guns were kept after you mislaid them?”

  “You mean after I spent half an hour looking for them, I know it was you that hid them and I’ll be getting—”

  “A drink in The Office sounds like honey to my ears,” José said, cutting them off before the argument could escalate further. “First round’s on me.”

  * * *

  The Office turned out to be nothing more than a rundown old shack with more bullet holes along its front walls than a wall used for an army firing-squad line. Dirty windows that you couldn’t see into made up a section of the front and peeling paint made up the rest.

  The Office sign stood above the door with a necktie hanging down from the O that looked suspiciously like a noose.

  We walked in and were greeted by smoke, the stale smell of beer and regret.

  Bodies lay slumped over tables; the only thing indicating they were alive were the small snot bubbles that formed around their noses. Others sat in corners shrouded by the darkness, sipping at their drinks and eyeing us with interest.

  We walked through the wooden tables and chairs bolted to the floor and made our way towards a bar that looked out of place from the rest of the room. Polished black marble graced its top, and red and black paint so new you could almost smell it covered the wood at the base. A fine gold trim ran its way down the edges of the bar.

  Tuari approached the bar slowly, walking up and down its length before taking a step back and letting out a loud whistle. “How much did this beauty cost you, Jerry?”

  A bartender who had been ducked down behind the bar popped his head up and waved his arms furiously in our direction. Short with a slight paunch at the front, he had a great brushy moustache that made up for the lack of hair on his head.

  “Oh no you fuckers don’t!” he shouted, still waving his arms in our direction, “You lot are still barred after the last bloody mess you left me with. Gordon Bennett! It took me a week to get those bloodstains off the ceiling, a whole week! And I am not buying a new bar, this is my fourth one this year!”

  “Four bars isn’t bad going; I suspect all busy establishments like yours change the décor frequently,” said Tuari innocently.

  “This is only the second month of the year!”

  “Well, it makes the place look fresh, but if you ask me I don’t know why you keep on getting new bars; it’s not like you’ve updated the rest of this place,” Tuari said, hand sweeping over the room.

  “The pond-scum who drinks in here could sit on the floor and still be happy, but I refuse to lean or serve on a dirty bar. I spend most of my day behind this worktop so I want the best.”

  “Jerry, give me my usual,” Willis said, walking past the bartender and leaning against the bar.

  Jerry looked among the crew and lifted his eyes to the sky as he saw the battle of kicking them out would be more trouble than it was worth.

  “My friends call me Jerry, it’s Mr Jones to you,” he said in an English accent as he stepped behind the bar.

  He poured a large pint of Guinness for Willis, an Amaretto and coke for Poppy, a double Jameson on ice for José, and a pink gin and lemonade for Tuari.

  “What you having?” Poppy asked over her shoulder.

  “I’m okay,” I said with a small shake of my head, which got a round of boos from the crew. “Okay, I’ll have pink gin and lemonade.” Which got a small nod from Tuari.

  Poppy handed me my drink as Willis argued with Jerry.

  “What is this, you helmet! The prices are almost triple what they used to be.”

  “I need to cover my cost somehow; black marble isn’t cheap,” Jerry said, stroking the worktop surface.

  “But still, Jerry, we’re loyal customers, surely you could—” Tuari began before Jerry cut him off.

  “If the prices are too high, then you could always go to the… Oh, that’s right,” Jerry said with a smirk, “I’m the only boozer in this part of town, so you can either put up, shut up, or piss off.”

  The crew looked at one another before they raised their drinks in the air with a shout and downed them in one.

  Happy hour had begun.