[u]Skeleton[/u] 

In the middle of the partying, a foreign voice sounded from the open front door of the bar. Skeleton's head snapped to where the voice came from, and he identified a newcomer, a young black woman in her twenties. She was decently attractive, but the cane in her hand and the sunglasses on her eyes (though Skeleton couldn't judge much for sunglasses, considering he never took his off) told him that she was blind. [i]Why the hell would an attractive blind woman walk into the most dangerous bar in the city and ask for that name?[/i] he thought, rising from his seat [i]Even if she is a meta, she must be either absolutely crazy or the ballsiest woman I've ever laid eyes upon.[/i] Skeleton placed his beer on the table and walked towards the door, his arms crossed across his chest in a disapproving manner. Already a few Skulls were beginning to turn towards the door, and none of them looked friendly. One of them began to tell her off, but Skeleton held up a hand and silenced the dissenter. He stopped about three feet away from the woman, hopefully a distance sufficient enough to be out of the range of the cane. 

"Yeah, you're at the right place." Skeleton said gruffly "Who's asking?" Back where Matt and Kylie stood, Damian shifted cautiously from side to side. He drew a small throwing knife from his jacket and began to twirl it around his fingers expertly. As the spinning increased in speed, the knife began to spin like the blade of a fan and vibrate. From this angle, Damian couldn't see the cane, and so he assumed this was just your average garden-variety East Mendel mook, probably drunk and on a dare. If she so much as flinched, he could throw the knife at the speed of a bullet and blow her head clean off her shoulders. 

[u]Col. Ivan Petrov and Dr.Tobias Wright[/u] 

Friday night was bar night. Every Friday, Colonel Petrov descended the hardwood staircase of his house just outside of Mendel, grabbed his cane, kissed his wife on the cheek, and a few moments later drove off for the city in his black Chrysler 300. He drove into the city, his mind partially on autopilot as he turned left down Watson street and arrived at a tall, rectangular house painted dark red. He beeped, and a minute or so later, Dr.Wright opened his door and shut it carefully behind him, fumbling with his keys to lock the door. He was wearing a black wool coat, for it was rather chilly, which only showed two of his six arms, and the other four were wrapped around his body. A black fedora rested on his head, which looked rather comical with his cranial appearance. 

"Sorry for the delay." Dr.Wright said as he sat down in the passenger's side of Ivan's car "Had to feed the fish." 

"If you eat now, you'll lose your appetite." Ivan mused jovially. 

"Go to Hell, Scarface." Wright retorted. 

Soon they arrived at the usual spot, a bar on 33rd Street called "Our Place". It was a small hole-in-the-wall dive with green awnings outside and a large sandwich board that contained the day's specials. Ivan entered the bar, and waved hello to the bartender, a large redheaded woman. Ivan and Dr.Wright sat down at the counter in their usual spots, and she walked over. 

"Evenin, hun." she said happily to the men "What'll it be?" 

"The usual." Ivan said "A Yuengling and wings." She didn't even need to write it down. That was what Ivan liked so much about this place; it was cozy and friendly, a place where everybody knows your name, like that sitcom from the nineties. 

"And for you, hun?" the bartender asked Dr.Wright. 

"The usual." She nodded and walked over to the kitchen, where she yelled something rather indicative of a fifties diner, and then grabbed the beers. She brought them back to the two friends and then rushed off to attend another man who entered. 

"So how goes the research?" Ivan asked Dr.Wright. 

"A little slow, as of late." Dr.Wright replied after swallowing a gulp of beer "Ever since my old research assistant quit, I've been really bogged down with number crunching. It's given me a new appreciation for their work. How's the family?" 

"It's been better." Ivan replied. 

"Any luck with the kids?" Ivan sighed and took another drink of beer, as if it were anasthesia. 

"No, unfortunately." he said "We're seeing a fertility specialist on Wednesday." 

"Sorry to hear." Wright replied "I'm glad you're taking my advice, though." 

About five minutes of chatter and another round of beers passed when a familiar-looking man sat up at the bar next to Ivan. It was Baron, and he had questions about a murder. Ivan looked at him hard a moment, trying to remember exactly who the man was, and his eyes widened when he realized that it was Baron, his old squadmate from the Dreadnaughts. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing Ivan did not know. Hopefully the dumbass wouldn't try to get him back into the war. 

"Doc Moreau?" he said "Haven't seen you in forever. No, I haven't heard anything about a murder, unfortunately. I saw the flashing lights up ahead, but I thought it was just a car crash or something. Who's been killed?"