[Swordfish941]

He lead her from the alley and down the street. After twenty minutes of walking, they entered a beaten up building where dull neon lights colored in yellow spelled "The Hot Spot" on top of the building. The inside was much better. It was lit brightly and a fascinating aroma to it. On the left side of the room was the bar where an aged Zulu man was tending bar. To the right were a few booths along with a jukebox and a cigarette machine. A snooker table was in the back where two men played.

Greg approached the bartender with a friendly grin on his face. "Charlie, my main man, how's it going?" he said. Charlie acknowledged with a nod. "Let's see. Um, I'll have a mojito made from Bacardi White Label and, um, Katie, what do you want?"

"Anything with vodka in it."

"Vodka tonic for my lady friend here."

Charlie quickly fixed up the drinks and handed them to Greg, who in turn payed him with a five rand coin. The man and the woman sat down at a table. Katie could now see Greg's attire. He wore a dusty and beaten up brown leather jacket with a bulge on his left side, a navy blue cotton button up shirt, denim jeans, a leather belt, and a pair of loafers. He had a three day stubble beard and slightly chapped lips.

"Don't you want to tell me about yourself?" Katie remained quiet. "Alright, if you won't break the ice, then I will. I was born and raised in Cape Town. My dad was a police officer and my mum worked at a pharmacy. I graduated from high school and served a year in the army. After that I was enlisted in Recces. Most of my operation took place in northern Uganda, usually sabotage missions against the Lord's Resistance Army. I was kidnapped and held hostage by a militia loyal to the LRA for three weeks."

"What did they want in exchange for you? Money?"

"They could have cared less about money. They wanted three of the LRA's top leaders released. Stupid bastards should of captured a whole squad hostage instead of just me. That would have served as better leverage."

"What did they do to you? Did they torture you?"

"No. I was placed in a pitch black room, nothing to see. A single guard was placed at the door armed with a FAL rifle. The rarely fed me and my body started to eat away at my fat. I started to lose count of days and it all began to blur together. I decided that the only way to escape was to fake injury. I broke my left hand by slamming it against the wall. When the guard came in to check on me, I strangled him to death, bandaged my hand with his shirt, and took his rifle. I killed the rest of captors and eventually met up with a humanitarian group. They help get to the Kampala High Commission who then transferred me to the embassy here in Pretoria. I spent a month in a hospital with a tube down my throat feeding me slush. I then spent another two going through physical therapy."

"That's one hell of a story."

"If you want to know some personal information about me, I love music. Mainly Chet Baker and Edith Piaf with a little bit of Phil Collins and Elvis Costello."

"Really? I love Phil Collins!"

"Any personal favorites?"

"Sussudio."

"Christ, whenever I hear that song, I always think of Christian Bale screwing two call girls."

She laughed at his remark. He smiled back and took a sip of his drink. He then took out a packet of cigarettes and offered her one.

"I don't smoke."

"Well I do." he said taking one out for himself.