Raxus - The Rusty Rifle
Make no mistake; The Rusty Rifle was about as shitty as it came when it came to bars. Still, its proximity to the Imperial Barracks on Raxus made it a favorite for Imperial soldiers to come to blow off some steam while off duty. It had everything you needed in a bar, cheap alcohol, your favorite game on the halo, darts, pool tables, and they were alright with the occasional bar brawl as long as you didn't break too much stuff.
Jonathen sat at the bar, watching a pod race on the halo. He took another sip of beer before setting it back on the bar. It was a slow night, but it was still early; it was bound to pick up. However, Jonathen didn't mind it being a little quieter either.
In the corner, a private slammed his fist down on the table, clearly upset that he had been taken for all his credits. He flung some of the items from the table and stood, his chair flying back against the wall. "HEY! Cut that shit out!" the old bar owner yelled from across the room. Marge's voice would cut through it all, no matter how loud it got in the bar. As it was quiet, it drew everyone's attention. Marge was scary as hell. Jonathen had seen her end more than a few fights herself.
The private looked like he was about to shout back when an older soldier pulled him back down. "You don't want to go down that road, kid," he said, which sparked a few chuckles.
Jonathen turned his attention back to the game with a bit of a smile himself.
Make no mistake; The Rusty Rifle was about as shitty as it came when it came to bars...but it was home.