Prologue

The sound of the glass being slammed against the old dirty bar for the third time in as many seconds finally snapped him out of his thoughts. Cooly he looked up at the bartender who was giving him an annoyed look, telling him to either continue his tab or piss off. Rubbing his blurry eyes in an attempt to shake the effects of the alcohol off he stared down at the piles of shot glasses.

It never came to a surprise to him what too many drinks would do to him. After all, his blood was probably partly comprised of alcohol. He lazily reached for his small glass of vodka and downed it instantly. The faint sour taste was there, but it wasn't accompanied by signs of passing out anytime soon.

"Another." He demanded as he slammed the glass back onto the table. Flicking the small glass towards the bartender, he waited for it to be once again filled.

"I think you've had enough for one night." The bartender told him in a gruff and vaguely irritated tone.

He looked him straight in the eyes and responded in an equally obstinate tone, "I'll be done when I decide I'm done." He fought the urge to grab the scruffy man by the neck and strangle him. Sure, maybe he had had enough for one night, but this was no ordinary night. Even though he had already drunk upwards of 30 shots, it was still not enough to knock him out or even get him mildly intoxicated. He did, however, play along so he wouldn't draw anyone's attention.

The bartender took the glass in front of him and started to clean it in true bartender fashion. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, I don't want any trouble."

Deliberate in his movements, he tipped the bar stool back until he was staring at the dirty lights above. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. On any other night, he would've been more than glad to start up a fight, especially in a half full bar. But not tonight. Any night but tonight. He finally opened his eyes and replied to the bartender, "Okay buddy, you win. But there's no rule stating that I can't hang around here, is there?"

Reluctantly, the bartender nodded. "Just don't cause any trouble or I'll have to call the cops."

He raised both of his hands in surrender and said, "You're the boss." He always hated calling others that. He was his own boss and that was it.

Looking across the dusty room he decided that, if he wasn't going to be allowed another drink, he might as well get up before his back cramped up any further. With a stretch he got to his feet, relieved to not be sitting on that uncomfortable stool anymore. Two hours in one position would be irritating for anyone.

He could've sat anywhere on a quiet night like this, but he had chosen that spot specifically. He'd wanted to sit somewhere he could absorb his surroundings from and, more specifically, observe a certain target. Ever since he had entered the bar, he couldn't get his eyes away from it. Something about it kept him curious and encouraged a closer examination. So he did what he did best; secure a position and study the objective. While he was spying, he'd ordered a few shots to ease the goal for himself. As time went by, the glasses had started to pile up. He had thought it was going to be an easy job, but it was far from the walk in the park he had anticipated. Minutes turned to hours and nothing changed, which only incited greater determination and fascination within him.

Seeing as he couldn't continue the mission in observation mode, he decided to approach the target and go in offense mode. He walked by the empty tables, swimming in his thoughts and tactics. The experience felt like crossing a road with fly bullets everywhere. Once he got to the table, he pulled out the chair and sat in front of the girl.

"I don't mean to pry, but you've been sitting quietly by yourself all night." He observed a chuckle in his words.

The girl in front of him raised an eyebrow and kept spinning the straw in her margarita. Smirking, she, at last, replied, "I'm sorry, but I didn't know that it was a crime for a girl to sit and have a drink."

He clicked his tongue and felt his level of intrigue rise. "Now isn't that sweet. Most girls would've told a jerk, aka me, to piss off."

"Well, after watching me all night, I'm sure you can tell I'm not 'most girls'."

"Sorry, I can't help it. Old habits die hard." He studied her face intently, hoping for a hint of what was going on behind her hazel eyes. Sadly, no sign of her thoughts showed in her expression.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, aren't you rude? Is that how you always approach the ladies?" She took a sip of her drink while still keeping eye contact with him.

"Not exactly. I'm not really a big fan of befriending others. But in your case, I'll make an exception." He gave her a smile that would explain about everything about his attitude.

"Ooh, should I feel lucky?" Finishing her margarita, she set the empty glass down on the corner of the table and raised an eyebrow.

"Let me order you a drink. How does something stronger sound to you?"

"I think you've already had enough to drink." Her statement caused him to raise an eyebrow of his own. "Sorry," She apologized, though he highly doubted she was actually repentant of her actions. "I guess it seems like I have a bad habit of eavesdropping as well."

Lightly chuckling, he smiled at her words. "Well then, it seems that we're both guilty."

"So tell me, what's a pretty young lady like you doing in a dirty old bar like this." As charming his tone was, it didn't seem to have an effect on her. Not that he'd expected it to.

"Having a drink." She replied evenly, raising the margarita he had just bought her as if to prove her statement. "And you're here…?"

He picked up his glass of water and stared at it before replying "Well I was drinking."

She leaned a little closer to him and fixed him with a smirk. "I noticed. You know, for someone who's been spying on me all night you seem to ask the most innocuous questions."

"Innocuous, how?" He asked, intrigued at her choice of words.

"Well, as it stands, you've bought me a drink and asked why I'm here but for some reason, you don't seem interested in the usual formalities of conversation." She smiled, "My name, for example."
"I don't see any necessity in that. When your only objective is to make small talk, I feel that names are redundant, after all, you'll probably never see me again."

"So mysterious and yet you seem like you have a lot to say."

"It's all in asking the right questions." He countered.

"What do you do? How's that for asking the right question." She quirked an eyebrow. "Unless that's also too much for small talk."

He let out a small laugh. "Ex-Spetsnaz. Ex-KGB."

"Those aren't references you hear every day," she commented lightly. "A bit far away from home, don't you think?"

"Like I said, ex." He took another sip of his water, wishing it was alcohol, before continuing. "I was discharged. You know, for a conversation this seems rather one sided. You know what I am and yet, you've revealed nothing about yourself."

"Well," She stared at her drink for a moment before saying, "I'm an attorney."

Almost too easy. A test perhaps? "Liar." He countered with a smirk.

"My mistake, ex-attorney." She looked back at him. "Not bad soldier boy."

He shrugged easily. "Some things never change."

"Is the evil in humanity one of them?" She asked, amused.

"After enough war," He muttered. "Faith in humanity is hard to come by. You spend enough time in a battle zone like me, and you'll soon call death your new home, mistrust, your staunchest ally."

"Death…" She studied him for a moment before asking, "Must be hard to go out every day never quite sure if you'll ever make it back alive."

"You get used to it, you need to." He shook his head and laughed softly. "Enough of me, how about you? You're far away from Germany. Any particular reason?"

"Well," She took a thoughtful sip of her drink "America is the land of opportunity, right? I needed a fresh start from my old life. I had ridiculous goals and I wanted to forget them."

"Nyet. Once you dedicate a portion of your life to something, you stick with it." He muttered. "I learned that the hard way. What's your excuse?"

"That really has nothing to do with you." She commented dryly. "But since you've been so kind, Neo-Nazis murdered my family."

"But not you." He observed.

"Obviously. The authorities couldn't help me so I had to take matters into my own hands." Looking into her glass she sighed and drained it. He could sense the wish for oblivion in her movements because they so closely matched his own. "When I finally found them," At his raised eyebrow she amended, "Well, I suppose they found me. Their goal was to finish me off but I was saved. I realized avenging my family was an unattainable goal so instead, I used my second chance to," She waved a hand lazily. "Save others from similar injustices, if you will."

"As a lawyer. What changed?" He asked, curious.

"Sometimes you care too much to do your job." She said, regret touching her voice. "Sometimes..."

"Shit hits the fan."

She laughed, a little sadly he thought. "Something like that. I learned that sometimes you can't save everyone."

"That's always a hard lesson to learn." He raised up his glass of water and announced, "Here's to new beginnings."

She flashed a grin. "I've already finished mine."

"So you have." He flooded some of his water into her glass. "Although, if you think the drink matters, you're sorely mistaken. It's all in the words." He nodded to her glass expectantly, "And the eyes behind them."

"Charming and intelligent, an excellent combination." She raised her glass as well and let the two clink. "Too bad we won't see each other again."

He noted the shift in her tone at once, "Places to be?"

"Sadly." She got up from her chair and was about to reach into her pocket, presumably for her wallet, before he cut her off.

"On me, I insist."

She smiled, "Who am I to refuse that? Thanks for the drink and the good conversation, that's not something you get every night." Languidly she saluted him with two fingers before turning and, with an unhurried deliberateness, weaved her way through the bar and left.

He watched her go, studying her every move. Even when she was on the street, he could not help but absorb her through the dirty windows. So absorbed in his thoughts was he, that he didn't notice the bill being placed on the table. He picked it up only to furrow his brow in disbelief. "Twenty bucks for a margarita? Must've been one hell of a margarita. Ah well," He looked back to the window, despite knowing she wouldn't be there. "It was worth it I suppose."

Despite what he'd said to her concerning small talk, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd meet the odd silver haired girl again. You know, I think I might enjoy that.

So that was just a small intro for the story. I still have got miles to go and it's going to be hard work. Believe it or not, I woke up from a dream where I was writing down this intro at 3 in the morning. So I've got no straight plot yet. I wrote down this small part the minute I woke up from that dream. It's going to be a bumpy ride and you're forced to sit through it!

Q: *flatly* Yippie…

IDG: Oh yeah, she had something to do with helping as well. Eh, it wasn't that important.

Q: *mutters* I sold my soul for this?

IDG: And yet your debt only grows... With no commendations whatsoever.