Usually, the streets were bustling with crime. But tonight, it wasn't too bad, of course there was always that small tuffle across the street of a thief struggling against a poor lady citizen who had aimlessly and foolishly decided to creep around the dangerous alleys that night. My eyes, through my faceless mask, glanced toward the trouble, and with little effort, I took out my cell phone, aimed it toward the aggressor and knocked him cold in one, fantastically charged blow. I was getting used to my cell phone taser by then. I saw the woman reach for her purse and wander down the sidewalks in her usual, brisk pace, almost as if nothing had ever happened.

There was a typical hangout, a connection, if you will, that I was familiar with. One where the most crookedest of crooks (the normal kind) usually hung about to drink their fine whiskeys and gawk at dancing women. I had learned a lot from the few months I had spent with the Union. Various, learned, wise detectives had taught me many tricks of the trade, such as how to hack into the database of your local weapons facility, how to track down and pinpoint any person you wanted using your own personal PC, and even showed me the favorite pubs where most villains dwelt.

I was never comfortable going into bars, for fear of violence that could somehow overtake me. But, somehow, a new invigoration overtook me as I dawned the faceless mask, which at times even to my surprise, gave a frightening effect to those I encountered. Intimidating or not, I had grown to become one with the mask, as if itself were my own identity.

I entered, and a beautifully slim woman greeted me at the door.

"How's about a drink, hun?" She asked.

By now, I would have been nervous, sweaty, and speechless. But this time, the Face took over. Driven to complete the tasks he had been aimed to do, he declined. "Not here for drinks, here on business, ma'am," he said politely, dipping his hat downward. She acknowledged my statement, and walked away with tray and glass in hand.

I scanned the room. No one seemed to notice the faceless man who had come to visit them. And I looked for the familiar face that I would use as a link to the mystery I was to solve. Then I spotted him. He was a rather large man, sitting at a booth, with pudgy countenance, and unhandsome to say the least. But he had money... lots of it. He was surrounded by two very gorgeous women who were clutching tightly upon his arms. He definitely had money.

I invited myself to take a seat. The pudgy man raised his brows at his unwanted table guest. The women stared as well, finally noticing the one person who did not sport eyes or a nose on the front of his head. They looked at me in perplexity.

"Greetings, Bangora*. Nice night for a drink, eh?" I asked, viewing the twelve emptied glasses of what contained scotch. (*NJU#8)

"Eh? Who are you?" He asked in a low, gruff voice.

"Just an investigative journalist trying to make his way," I told him. "I only need one solid interview."

His eyes lowered. "Journalist, huh? Well I don't do interviews... I'm sure there are other mobsters you can pester."

I sat back, and made myself comfortable in the booth. "I'm surprised the Hunteress hasn't gotten to you yet. I wonder what's keeping her," I said.

Bangora looked suspiciously at me. "What? How do you know about that?" He wondered in puzzlement.

He beckoned for the ladies to leave his presence, and with a wave of the hands, they were off.

The vibrant essence of lively music continued to play through our ears as we sat in deep discussion, as well as the cracking of glass against the wooden tables that were spread about us.

Bangora spoke above the mindless, garbled chatter. "What do you know, blank-face?" He asked.

I leaned forward against the table, rested my elbows upon the surface, and folded my hands. "The question is, my friend, what do you know?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, also leaning forward.

"I need some info, a local heroine has been having some nightmares... nightmares that result in certain deaths. Been watching the news lately? I've got a bit of a hunch that someone outside the camp is responsible for the whole incident," I explained.

"What does this have to do with me... or the Hunteress?" He asked, resting his large arm on the table.

"The Hunteress... nothing, she was just an attention grabber. I know you've been around the block a few times and was wondering if you knew anything about Caltech Industries."

"Forget it, I ain't leaking any info for nothing. Tell me what Hunteress' plan is," he demanded.

"To tell you the truth, I don't even know where the Hunteress is right now..." I told him. Though I could have just as easily tracked her down as well.

"But before you decide to make any rash decisions, let me make a call to perhaps, persuade your obstinate personality..."

I took out my cellular phone and flipped it open. "You know, I used to be a bit clumsy with this back in my earlier days... sometimes I dropped it to the ground..."

"Yeah, so?"

"You know what's in here? Enough volts to fry a man's brain into a boiled egg... and scrambled, not sunny side up. For you, the sunny side would be looking down, especially if I were to perhaps, be clumsy enough to hit the power button on the taser mode of this cell."

"Barnes... get over here..." He said to his bodyguard.

A bolt of electricity flung from the cell and ruptured itself throughout the bodyguard's body, leaving him smoking and fallen upon the floor.

"Hmm, looks like my finger slipped."

"You drive a hard bargain, reporter man. I guess I'll spare you some news just this once. I hear that this Caltech industry was built to rival the power of Bolcorp in servicing the public just in case of renegade attacks by superheroes. I guess soon they'll be comin’ in handy for all our sakes."

"You mean Bolcorp*, the Protection Agency that the mayor is personally involved with?" (*NJU#7)

"Yeah, I guess that's the one. The head of the board there is Doctor Laramie."

"Doctor Laramie*? I've heard he's helped the Union out more than once." I sat in ponderance at the help that I had received. (*Justice Union#1, previously helped the Bulk contain his monstrous alter ego)

"Thanks for your patronage, Bangora... I hope to see you again soon... behind bars." And then I left the bar.