SCP-4902 The Gate (Scp Foundation Mythos x Gate - Jietai Kare no Chi nite, Kaku)

Chapter 12: New Power

A sharp eye this bartender has, Terry thinks nothing much of it though, dismissing his watchful eye to be nothing more to catch petty thieves or puckered out folks in his establishment. Terry lightened up the mood with a small chuckle and an accompanying smile, shrugging it off. "My apologies, it's been a rough day." Terry came out with a quickly written excuse on why he is so jumpy. "After San Francisco, the police have been on edge for quite a while, watched it on the news and it blew my rocks off. I have a daughter, you know? Have to protect the family and all." Terry didn't expect himself to go that far making an excuse though.

Ah right right I'm with cha, crazy world we're livin' in eh?" He said as he pushed himself off of the counter and turned around facing the wall of booze and approached the shelving. "One day yer livin' life, the next yer out looking over yer shoulder, best of luck to you on that front then lad." The bartender turned around to face Terry once again, about to speak when the group of four created a thunderous ruckus again that echoed throughout the establishment. "Urgh, loud laddies there, I tell ya. Anyway, I'll ask ye again, what 'cha havin'?"

"I'll have a shot of whiskey then, rain picked up quick." With a few quick motions by the bartender, moving his hands and fingers grabbing a small shot glass and the bottle of whiskey at the same time, then pouring the drink into the glass before taking it off and placed it on the counter in front of Terry. "Thanks" Terry thanked the Bartender with a smile, to which the bartender responded with a smile himself. Terry then rummaged his hand through his jeans' pockets and pulled out a small piece of folded paper, unfolding it behind the cover of the counter, he reads the written note, it saying: Cheers And Beers, ask for Anderson.

"Alright lad I see it in yer eyes, you have business here so spill it." The bartender suddenly and bluntly came forth with his revelation, leaning against the counter in front of Terry with his hands and arms supporting him up, a smirk on the man's face. "I won't bite, don't worry."

Terry looked up and faced the bartender, folding up the piece of paper and shoving it back into his pocket again before replying. "Well, I suppose the jig's up now. I'm here to meet with a man named Anderson, do you know him, sir?" Terry asked, with a lower voice so the other patrons of the drinking floor don't hear the conversation.

The bartender squinted his eyes and his smirk had disappeared once hearing Terry's intentions. He stood up straight and waved Terry over, before turning around and walking to the back of the bar towards a door. "Come 'round, follow me, lad." Terry got up from his stool and pushed past the gateway and into the bar, walking past the wall of bottles and drinks to catch up to the bartender that stood waiting for him in front of a door. The bartender's face now takes a darker mood, serious, sharp, and focused. "Now, don't say anything when we're going down to the basement, alright lad? You don't talk, you don't touch, and you don't go browsin, understand me?"

"I understand"

"Good, follow me." The bartender turned the knob and pulled the door open, stepping into the terminal where it heads to a stairway down. He stepped aside letting Terry in before closing the door and locking it before taking the key and pocketing it. They begin heading down the stairs, the room is well-lit with hanging overlights, and the stairs are made from sturdy reinforced wood. As they go down the sound of whirring fans begins to fill Terry's ears, and he sees another terminal with an open door to the side, spilling light out from inside of it. The bartender makes no mention of it and simply walks down past it, but Terry's curiosity got the better of him and as he passed he takes a moment to look inside, and he's met with a room filled with running overclocked graphics cards, hundreds of them and seemingly recent editions too. Terry moved on and not wanting to anger the bartender, caught up to the man.