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Zii wandered into Felix's place. The bartender already at work gave her a sharp look and pointed to the clock; Zii was late for her shift.

"Sorry," Zii said without even trying to sound like she meant it, "the bus was late."

"Felix is gonna fire your a** if you keep showing up late," the bartender--Jake was his name--growled. "But it ain't my problem. I'm outta here."

Zii waved him off, smiling, before taking up her post behind the bar. Jake wasn't wrong; Felix probably would fire her, eventually, if she didn't straighten up. But she had really needed to stop for those cigarettes.

Zii liked Felix, the Mexican man who owned the bar. He was an illegal immigrant who had slunk through life mostly by using fake identities (Felix wasn't even his real name, but Zii respected him too much to ask what it really was). He and Zii understood one another. He didn't pry too much, and, when he spoke to Zii at all, he kept conversations shallow and disconnected, and she, in turn, did the same. It was a good relationship.

Zii put her mask on for work. She smiled enticingly at customers, her lips painted blood red. She entered into conversation only when the customer started it first. She understood that many of them, their heads hanging low and their faces wrinkled by time and stress, only wanted to drink in peace. They would begin to come out of their shells when the liquor had made them cease to care about their jobs and their failed marriages and their broken apartments.

Zii liked the bar. She understood the people here. Hell, most of the time, when her shift was over, she became one of them. She knew the regulars, knew which ones wanted her to flirt and which ones wanted her to sympathize. She learned to adapt to them, to cozy up to those who would tip her well and pacify those who were likely to cause trouble.

There was a certain level of anonymity here. None of these people wanted to get to know Zii. They just wanted to drink and flirt with her or other patrons, to sing and dance to bad music, and to forget. And, most of the time, Zii was there to flirt and sing and dance and forget along with them.

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The newcomer certainly had balls, Zii had to give him that. You didn't just waltz into a place like this and start calling the shots, not in a place the regulars treated with more sanctity than the average man treated church. But, then again, he might fit in just fine with the rowdy bunch of factory workers and kids with fake IDs. Speaking of which...this kid didn't look old enough to drive, let alone drink.

"'Beer' is a bit of a vague request," Zii said to Josh, leaning over the counter just enough to look subtly flirtatious without looking trashy. "You're gonna need to be more specific than that...but first, I'm gonna need to see some I.D."

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Zii took the ID from Josh, her eyebrow shooting upward and an amused smirk breaking out on her face as she looked it over. This kid couldn't be serious, could he? This blatantly fake ID, paired with Josh's ignorance of brands of beer ("a strong one"? really? the kid couldn't just say "Bud"?) was just too good to be true. She had to admire his guts...or his stupidity. Maybe his friends had put him up to it?

"The strongest thing you're gonna get with this is a coke, 'Mr. Nova'," Zii said, handing the ID back to Josh with a knowing grin. "So, diet, cherry, or regular?"

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Zii just smiled while Josh tried in vain to argue. Both he and she knew that his ID was a fake. Zii had practically invented the fake ID; she knew one when she saw it.

"Next time," Zii suggested as she squirted diet cola into a glass of ice, "get an ID that's actually from the city you're in."

She slid a coaster in front of Josh and set the glass on top of it.

"It's actually better to just find someone who looks enough like you that you could get away with using their ID," she said, leaning on the counter again. "Some places have machines that can scan for fakes nowadays. And those fines ain't cheap."

Zii's phone (which, being without pockets, she had stashed away in the side of her bra) began buzzing. Excusing herself from her conversation with Josh, she pulled it out to look at the number. It was Janice, a coworker she had barhopped with a few times. An alright girl, when she wasn't using.

"Hey, Jan," Zii said, flipping the phone open. She hoped that Janice would be able to hear the background noise and figure out that Zii was busy. Zii knew that there was about an 80% chance that Jan was asking for money.

But the voice on the other end was panicked and sobbing, and Zii knew that this was not a charity call.

"Jan?" Zii said, getting more and more concerned. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Zii...Donny, it's Donny, he..."

"What did he do? I swear to God if he hit you..."

"No! No, Zii...he's dead! They found his body...by the docks...oh God...I...I swear I didn't know he...he told me he was giving it up, Zii, he told me he just needed a little more money and then we'd leave this town for good! Oh God..."

"They killed him!?" this outburst of Zii's attracted the attention of more than a few of the people sitting around the bar. She didn't even care enough about their stares to make up an excuse.

"No...someone, some...thing...it killed all of them, Zii! Everyone in the warehouse! Oh god...the police have been asking me questions...they found my number and picture on Donny's cell phone. I was the last person he called before he...oh, Zii, I'm so scared! I didn't know who else to call!"

"Just...just calm down, Janice. Listen, you need to stay where you are. Go with the police if you can, okay? Don't try to go anywhere alone. Do you have anyone you can stay with?"

The conversation ended with Janice calming down enough to resolve to call her brother and stay with him. Shaken and confused, Zii hung up her phone and pulled out her cigarettes. She lit one, and felt the smoke fill her lungs. It was soothing, at least, but it wasn't enough to calm her down completely.

Donny had been a good kid. If he hadn't been born on this side of town, he might have been something. He had gotten drawn into the world of gangs and drugs, the same way most of the kids from Delmor's shadier neighborhoods usually did. But he had wanted something more. Zii had spoken to him privately only a few times, but he had talked with so much passion, so much certainty. He was going to get himself and Janice out of this hole, he was going to marry her and start a family. And he would have done it, too. He even had the ring picked out...

Zii had never drank on the job before, but now she pulled a small glass onto the bar and filled it with Jack. Downing the glass in one gulp, she let the fiery warmth drift down to her gut. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel. She just poured herself another drink.

((In reference to this post))

The crowd in the bar seemed light. That was for the best, the young vigilante guessed. The police scanner that he had incorporated into his iPhone had been buzzing with activity for the past twenty minutes. News crews and reporters were already flocking to the scene, wondering just what had caused the massacre. Cameras were already capturing images of bodies being brought out in separate pieces. Some news stations were already suggesting that it was some madman that got ripped on a drug deal. That was good; let them think the stupid answer. All the best for him to keep his cover.

As of now, an important member of another drug crew was sitting in that very same bar. He had already gotten the rather good news in a text. Most of the competition was gone now; it was just a manner of expanding their own business. But things weren't about to go good for him either. Sentinel planned to take out all of the drug operations in the area, and started with the smallest group and moved up. To be honest, the warehouse incident was merely practice. The bigger fish were yet to be caught.

Although, things started to go wrong when suddenly three men in black ski masks appeared from an alley. All were armed, two with shotguns, another with a pistol. Sentinel cursed; why didn't he see it before? Surviving members of the drug op he hit would think it was the other drug cartel that got them. Now it was time for revenge. Locked and loaded, the three men smashed open the doors to the bar and started to randomly fire at the ceiling, floor, and bar. They wanted to establish that they were in control now.

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Josh listened intently as Zii described what was going on, taking intermittent drags of his cigarette as well. He secretly felt kind of guilty, being that he was one of those "supers" she was talking about, though he had done nothing like what she had described, especially not in this town.

Josh went to speak when he was cut short by someone, or several people, actually, bursting in the door. He barely had enough reaction time to dive down to the floor himself after the first shots were fired. Luckily, they weren't fired at him.

The only problem was, who were they looking for? Either way, Josh was not going to stand for this, these guys just opened fire in a populated area, regardless of who the population actually is...

Still, what could he do, they had guns, he didn't. All he could do was cooperate until one of them was fool enough to get close.

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Josh looked up as the man smashed two of the men, wondering why he wasn't allowed to have any of the fun. It was at that moment that he noticed one of the men standing right next to him, not only that, but was facing a different direction, not looking at Josh at all!

Still, the gun proved imminent danger to Josh for most of his normal flashy moves, looks like the Shining Star would have to go to the less exciting world of grappling, but whatever, it would work.

Josh slowly and quietly worked his way to his feet, then reached behind the man's head and attempted to grab the gun with his right hand and point it upwards, at the same time, he would place his left arm around the throat of the mask assailant, looking to lock in a modified sleeper hold on the man.