The nightlife was rearing, with laughs and alcohol littering the air. Agent Blackbird was rather comfortable where he sat, lounging upon a couch large enough to hold at least ten. He allowed her to put the drinks down before he grabbed her wrist, tugging the sleeve off of the wound. He examined it for a few moments, his face a blank mess. He leaned closer, looking her dead in the eyes, his voice so strangely normal it made the question even more menacing. Who did this?
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