Sitting in a dinky little dive bar downtown Bryan drew his glass to his lips.  Whiskey on the rocks, the poison of gentlemen, and common drunkards alike.  The liquid slid down his throat giving that familiar warm burn as it hit his stomach.  It had been a crappy month, and freshly laid off from his job at the National Times he had gone to his favorite spot.  Looking around he couldn't help but smile.  The walls were wood paneling that probably hadn't been dusted in a decade.  The lighting was just enough to see with.  In the corner on a small stage a band played, and college kids danced along.  It never ceased to amaze him how much this bar felt like home.  No matter how bad his day had been, within twenty minutes he would always have a smile on his face.  Dive bars, a little slice of heaven, and this was the best there was.<br/><br/>Raising his empty glass Bryan made it glow to draw the barkeeps attention.  The guy was two steps ahead however, and slid a freshly filled rocks glass down the bar with a practiced amount of force.  It slid to a stop just infront of Bryan who smiled, and slapped the bar with his free hand in joyous approval.  Grabbing the full glass he stood, and walked outside to the little bench on the sidewalk.  The night air was sweet, people passed by.  Some busying along while others strolled nonchalantly.  Drawing a fresh cigarette from his vest pocket Bryan lit the coffin nail, and inhaled slowly, and deeply.  A relaxing night in the city was a wonderful break from plane hoping to one warzone after another.  Oh how he despised listening to politicians, and warlords babble on and on about how noble their efforts were as they ordered the death of thousands.  Not that it mattered now.  When he woke in the morning he would be unemployed.  A consequence of not towing the political line in one article too many.<br/><br/>As he sat, he suddenly felt a chill flow over him.  Illuminating the glass in his hand for use as a flashlight, he only meant to make it glow a little bit.  Instead it glowed brightly enough to remind him of a flash bang grenade before he suspended the magic flowing into it from his hand.  This freaked the man out somewhat.  Never before had he lost control of his magic.   Being as his magic was of a benign variety however he shrugged it off returning to his smoke.  Really ... how much trouble could a glowing object cause?  Still, the chill in the air persisted.  Feeling that something was out of place Bryan decided he'd pay an old acquaintance a visit in the morning.  A man he had tried to use as a source for various things several times, mostly to no avail.  Still, there was usually at least a cup of coffee and a conversation to be had.  Finishing his smoke Bryan swigged down the rest of his drink before walking back inside to pay his tab, and head home.<br/><br/>He woke early the next morning, and headed for the office of his would be sometimes informant.  A lawyer by trade of the name Saul Harrington.  When he arrived he was just in time to see an ice pick being shoved towards Saul's person.  Taking off in a dead sprint Bryan would hit the assailant in the back of his knees to make him fall backwards, and away from Saul.  He however wouldn't be there in time to stop the first strike.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">'Good ol' Saul.  Never a dual moment.'</span>