Enter The Scorpion

The sun drifts down just below the skyline as Michael enters the local watering hole that sits around the corner, down the street from his office—a low lit indoor and outdoor pub—The Scorpion.

Converted from a small two story paper factory on the edge of a revitalized industrial zone, the Scorpion draws a mixed crowd.  Young professionals are making a push into the area as the redevelopment continues, transforming it into a new active scene.  This time of day, a steady small crowd of locals and regulars filter through.  Later the stage comes alive as musicians and bands carry the evening, standing room only the norm as the week draws to a close.

Michael gets his bearings in the dark room as he scans the area.  A few tables and booths are occupied with patrons, as well as the three rough old regulars sitting at the one bar, half in the bag, and as much a part of the décor as the objects hanging around on the walls.  Staff flow around the room helping customers, and the owner chats with two bartenders as they get things prepped for a busy evening. 

The owner, David, a New Jersey import, has built a solid establishment for himself over the last 20 years in this western city.  A round individual with graying hair, glasses, and a demeanor that, while calm and composed most of the time, has an explosive edge when lit.  He spots Michael coming in smiles and lifts his head with a nod. Michael smiles and nods back.

Several of the detectives are already here, occupying a tall table near the bar across the room.  Michael strolls across the room the to his counterparts.

George:  Retired designer for a tech company.  Very intelligent and practical, he was pressed into retirement with the evolution of technology and the influx of a new younger, college educated, and expendable crop of designers.   George has a knack for finding out things.  He relies on old school modes of gathering using phones, newspapers, and knocking on doors.  He is also the nursemaid of the group, often figuring out how to keep the rest out of trouble.

Finn:  The young expendable program designer.  Thin and wispy with pale features and blond hair, Finn has a keen mind that can figure out detailed problems, when it is not wandering away on a side project or idea.  Taking one of those jobs like George used to occupy, Finn burned out quickly and was fired for reasons he has yet to fully explain.  He has become an adept computer forensics specialist, which has proven helpful to the police several times.  He is a gadget and on-line maniac, and constant thorn to George’s side, heckling him often on his old school ways.

Riley:  Sometimes called the rat.  The youngest of the group, Riley’s rough and dark past had left him few options for a positive future until Michael pulled him from a very sinister situation.  Average height, but strong and burly, with long brown hair and several tattoos on his arms shoulders and back, Riley can dish out beatings and he can take them. Barely high school educated, but mechanically minded, Riley has totally immersed himself in his role as the bruiser with the detectives.

Misfits all of them, and Michael, in his late 20’s and running the odd detective agency, feels most misfit of all.  He approaches the group and they break out of their conversation to acknowledge their leader. George gives a nod.

  “Hey boss.”

Michael pulls out a seat.

  “Hi guys. Anyone seen Carlton?”

Riley snorts.  Finn chimes in.

  “He’s working something over at InfoCom, but he texted that he’d be over shortly.”

David stops over with a pitcher and an extra glass for Michael.

Welcome to the Scorpion—this is their place.  While it stands as a sort of refuge for each of them in its own way, expect the unexpected, as a lot of things will happen here, and the detectives are only beginning to find out the dark world within which they are entering.