Ch.6 Travis and Tavern. Tavern and Travis.

Light the match and see the vision in red.

Two weeks after this strange message was uttered, these words scrolled across every television in the world. They were heard over every radio. At first, the world only wondered at their meaning. Rumors were spread as to the source of this strange message. But soon wars started. Allied countries arrogantly turned against each other. The world became a boiling pot. And just as quickly, the worlds ended. Each country humbly signed treaties proclaiming peace. The world was almost destroyed because of these words.

There were a few who understood what these words truly meant. They got the message within. But these few did not know what to do with such a message and they began to blindly search for answers.

Two years later, the boiling pot of politics simmered down. But it was not over. Those words still scrolled across every television and blared over every radio. But for most people, those words had been forgotten.

The Red Nose Tavern was nestled into an alleyway in heart of the city. No one knows the name of that city and if you went to visit this tavern today, you would find it like everything else in that city: in ruins.

Everything had it's own mirror image next to it. On the far wall of the tavern was a faded painting of a round man holding up a mug of beer. But it wasn't the size of the beer or the man's fat belly that captured people's attention. It was his bulbous red nose. This man, his name has also been forgotten, built this tavern. And there were two mirror paintings of him as well. The point is, if you didn't have a headache, if your vision wasn't blurry when you walked into the tavern, it would be when you staggered out.

Travis sat at the bar. He was not a man to nurse his drink and this night was no exception. There we find him, at the bar, with an almost empty bottle of scotch.

The bartender seemed pleased with his customer. He stroked his mustache happily and placed a second bottle of scotch next to Travis.

"'Ere ya are, sir. I spect you'll drink this one quick like too." His accent was thick but untracable.

Travis turned to the woman next to him. She had given him the news that now possessed him to drink. He guzzled the rest of the scotch and slurred:

"Two years. It's been two years and now you choose to tell me."

She tried to smile reassuringly but only a drunk would miss the menace behind that smile. Even the bartender grimaced.

"Two years ago, we did not know she had a brother." She paused trying to regain her composure. "Believe me, if we had known, we would've spoken with you a lot sooner. So...her last words mean nothing to you?"

Travis knew of what words she was speaking of. But, he like everyone else, had only seen them scroll across his television and heard them over the radio. He never knew they were Quinn's, his sister's, last words.

Travis' face hardened as his next words came in a muttered slur, "I'm opening my second bottle of scotch now. You should leave before I finish it."

He tilted the bottle back and took a large swig.

"Here's my card. When you're sober, call me."

She placed a white card in his front pocket and brushed her hair away from her face. With that, she turned and left.

The bartender shuddered. He was glad she was gone. Turning to Travis he said,

"A woman like that, with that much menace, ain't welcome in mine bar."

Vaguely, he wondered how she had received that scar on her cheek...