When Men Were Men
Vandal Savage has come to Arizona, today. The last time he'd been in Arizona had been before the Spanish-American War, but some very interesting rumors had recently caught his eye, prompting a return visit. He needs reliable people for his new project, and the search for one such person has brought him here - to a little dive bar called 'Eddie's' in a tiny town a hundred miles outside of Flagstaff.
He steps inside, taking a moment to admire the apathetic ambiance. If there was a modern equivalent of an Old West Saloon, then this was it. Or as close as one could get without an actor in a costume behind the bar.
The low murmur of a few voices is masked by a television, its own volume too low to be intelligible. Savage disturbs the relative silence by speaking out.
"I'm looking for a fellow by the name of Jonah. Old acquaintance of mine. I've heard he was here."
He steps inside, taking a moment to admire the apathetic ambiance. If there was a modern equivalent of an Old West Saloon, then this was it. Or as close as one could get without an actor in a costume behind the bar.
The low murmur of a few voices is masked by a television, its own volume too low to be intelligible. Savage disturbs the relative silence by speaking out.
"I'm looking for a fellow by the name of Jonah. Old acquaintance of mine. I've heard he was here."