TheTripleDeuce walks down the street with a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth, thinking about some of the things he's been hearing lately.

Y'know, I've been hearing more and more about these Durdens.

I never really paid much attention to them before. They show up, cause trouble, get killed and somehow they always seem to come back again.

Now I hear you've been digging around Delaware trying to figure out what the hell is going on with them.

TheTripleDeuce takes a long drag from his cigar.

Fight clubs, abandoned warehouses, chains all over the place and papers talking about something called Project Spawning.

That's a lot more than I figured you'd find.

The TNT part caught my attention too. If they're keeping track of explosives, that's something I'd want to know about.

And somebody going through your place looking for those papers ain't exactly comforting either.

I'd keep those papers somewhere safe. Especially the ones mentioning Squishy and Thalia. There has to be a reason that stuff was sitting in that building.

As for Tornado, sounds like you got yourself a good dog.

Feed him, clean him up, give him a place to sleep and now he's guarding your house.

Hell, sounds like he already earned his keep.

TheTripleDeuce flicks the ash from his cigar.

I'd probably bring a few more people with you next time though. Crawling through tunnels and hiding under desks doesn't sound like much fun.

I suppose that's what happens when you start digging into things that probably would've been better left alone.

TheTripleDeuce takes another drag from his cigar and keeps walking.

Either way, I'm curious to see what you find next.

Something tells me there's more to these Durdens than people know.

Now I've got my own business to deal with.

At least I don't have to crawl through a damn tunnel to get to mine.

TheTripleDeuce walks down the street with a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth before noticing Ruby26 and Tornado.

Y'know, I've heard you've been having some trouble with these Durdens.

TheTripleDeuce takes a drag from his cigar and looks over at Tornado.

I see the dog is still around. That's good. Seems like he's got himself a job now.

I've heard some of your people didn't exactly have an easy time over in Delaware. Missing three men and having another one come back hurt isn't exactly a small problem.

And then there's the rest of it.

A green vial, some kind of metal tag, a picture with a woman mixed in with the Durdens, coded papers and a map showing tunnels under the building.

TheTripleDeuce flicks the ash from his cigar.

That metal tag is probably worth keeping around. I don't know what the hell it means, but it might come in handy later.

I'd be careful with that vial too. No telling what the stuff is.

The fact that the camera got destroyed and the bulletin board disappeared makes me think somebody really didn't want that place being looked at.

Could be nothing. Could be something.

Either way, I'd probably leave Delaware alone for a little while. If somebody knows people have been snooping around, going back there might not be the smartest thing in the world.

TheTripleDeuce takes another drag from his cigar.

Then there's that warehouse fire.

Funny how things have a way of disappearing when people start asking questions.

I suppose that's just another thing to keep an eye on.

TheTripleDeuce looks over at Tornado again.

Keep that dog close. He might be more useful than half the people running around this city.

TheTripleDeuce starts walking down the street.

I've got my own business to take care of. And these ciagr's are gonna turn out to be the death of me wheter it's the cost or the smoke.

The bar was warm with cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversation, the occasional clink of glass rising above the piano playing softly in the corner. A few men were gathered around a card game toward the back, their voices rising and falling with each hand, while the bartender moved between the bottles and glasses behind the counter. It was the sort of place where a man could spend an evening without drawing much attention to himself.

Obsidian stepped inside, bringing a trace of the cool night air with him. Near the entrance stood a wooden coat rack, already occupied by a few overcoats and hats. He removed his black felt fedora, then slipped off his dark trench coat and hung both neatly on the rack.

Beneath it, he wore a deep navy blue suit, impeccably tailored to his lean, solid frame, with a crisp white shirt and a pronounced burgundy silk tie. The tie was broad and richly colored, its substantial knot sitting neatly beneath his collar, a confident splash of color against the dark suit. Gold cufflinks caught the light when he moved his hands, accompanied by a few understated gold rings. His black Lucchese alligator boots were polished to a quiet sheen, their distinctive leather mostly concealed beneath his trouser legs. He preferred them to ordinary dress shoes, finding them comfortable, well made, and practical without sacrificing an ounce of refinement.

He made his way to the bar and settled onto an empty stool. When the bartender approached, Obsidian ordered a fine bourbon, neat. The bartender poured a measure into a short glass and set it before him. Obsidian gave a quiet nod of thanks and took a sip, allowing the warmth to settle before resting the glass on the polished counter.

For a while, he enjoyed the bourbon and the music, his attention wandering casually around the room. He had no particular reason to hurry. Then he noticed a familiar dog beneath a table in the darker corner.

Tornado.

A sincere smile touched his face. He lifted his glass for another measured sip before rising from his stool. Bourbon in hand, he crossed the room at an easy pace, the piano and low conversation continuing around him. He stopped beside the table, his attention settling briefly on the dog before lifting to the woman seated above him.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he remarked, with a hint of amusement. “Tornado. Fancy running into you here.”

He offered the woman a small, courteous smile.

“Seems your companion and I have met before,” he said, gesturing lightly toward the dog with his glass. “I’m Sid, by the way.”

He paused beside the empty chair, making no assumption that his company was wanted. His manner remained relaxed, neither hurried nor overly familiar, as he waited to see how she would receive him.