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Lyger stood on the ledge of the building adjacent to Bogart’s Pub, the very pub that Kyle had first run into the thugs that killed Ronnie. He knew that if he was going to find the man who pulled the trigger that night, this would be the place to start. The pub itself was once the go to destination for local college kids to get good, cheap food and drinks. Although it had garnered a bit of a reputation over the years as a sort of rough and tumble establishment, it was still a popular destination for the college crowd. Because of this, people tend to let their guard down and are not as aware of their surroundings as they probably should be. 

When Kyle Porter and his friends visited this establishment a week ago, they fell into the same trap. Kyle got involved with some business that, though it was the right thing to do, he probably shouldn’t have. As a result, the men he interfered with came after him looking for retribution, and because of that…his best friend is dead. 

From is perch he watched as the bartender, who through some research, Lyger learned was a man of questionable repute by the name of Jimmy Goodell went about shutting the pub down for the night. The rest of the staff had long since gone home, leaving Jimmy alone inside to finish cashing out and locking up for the night. As Goodell made his way to the door, Lyger made his move.

Jimmy Goodell didn’t know what was happening. He was stunned when the front door of Bogart’s exploded inward at him, so stunned in fact, that he barely saw the black clad vigilante who had in fact, kicked in the glass door. He didn’t get a good look at the 
feline-esque figure until he was looking up at him, unsure of whether this were actually happening.

Lyger reached down and grabbed the bartender by the throat and forced him to his feet. He pulled Goodell toward him, and then slammed him up against the wall. Lyger leaned in closer to Goodell’s face, so close that the terrified barkeep could feel his breath against his cheek from behind the mask. 

“Last week there was a fight in here.” Lyger said, his voice had an edge of anger to it that surprised even him. 

“Ye-yeah, I was here.” Goodell said, unable to contain his fear.

“There were four guys, the leader was a guy with dirty blonde hair, drove a black Cadillac.” Lyger said, pausing for a moment. “Who is he?” 

“I don’t know. Never seen him before.” Goodell said unconvincingly. Lyger pulled him toward him, before slamming him hard against the wall again, digging his fingers into the nerve bundle just at the base of the cervical spine. A shot of pain shot up and down Goodell’s spine, for an instant his right arm went numb. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” Lyger growled. “They killed a kid after they left here. I want to know his name. I want to know where I can find him.”

“Troy, his name’s Troy Orton. I don’t know where he is.” Goodell cried in pain. Desperate for Lyger to release him, he continued. “I-I don’t know where he is, but he likes to drink, and when he drinks he likes to talk. He’s in with some real shady characters, he runs drugs and guns for The Shroud…something or other. Look, that’s all I know! I swear!”

Lyger hesitated, and then released Goodell. He hadn’t ever heard of this “Shroud,” but hoped that perhaps with his intelligence connections, Harry may have some insight. 

“I know.” Lyger said as he let go of Goodell, the bartender dropped to a knee as he tried to get the feeling back in his extremities. When he looked up again, Lyger was long gone.