This story is true, it took place in North Dakota in 2010. The names have been changed to protect the innocent, the rest has not.
Joss was so cool, like super cool, as she saddled up to the bar, leaning on it like a so super cool person as she did the finger guns to the bartender, who told her to hold that for a moment, and then went over to Boris, who was much like an ape carved out of stone.
"I'd like beer," said Joss.
"And her?" asked Boris, pointing at Zoe who was behind the giant stuffed bear.
"My name is Anna Chapman," said Zoe.
"I have no need of that, what do you want?" Boris asked.
"As you can see, we are both 2000," said Joss.
"21," said Zoe, peaking out from behind the stuffed bear again.
"Yes, that," said Joss.
Well they were nowhere near that, Boris thought. He was no one's fool. He did not live through Leningrad by being stupid. He did it by killing cats. Yet more to the point, "Money is the barometer of a society's virtue," he thought, so he didn't really care about the age limit thing.
"Budweiser," said Joss.
Boris looked over at Zoe, who said, "Anna Chapman."
"Two Budweiser's," said Boris.
Joss and Zoe sat down at a table. There were a bunch of knife marks that must clearly have come from many games of Five Finger Fillet. This place was great, Joss was thinking, and she just knew that in her universe this place would be wall-to-wall super villains, and any minute now a super big fight would break out.
"So, we're here," said Zoe.
Joss noticed a guy in a big leather jacket with a skull on the back who was about to run into a tiny guy who didn't see him. Okay, any second now she would have to intervene and put another person in the hospital, which was, you know, not great.
"So what did you tell your mom?" asked Joss.
"Movie. You know I have never once gotten in trouble in my life," said Zoe as she took a sip of beer and then spit it out. "She does not get how very punk rock I am."
"So Ray and Eugenie," said Joss.
They both were struggling for stuff to say because this detective stuff was, like hard. This place was hard. If they were animals looking for a serial killer this place would be a slam dunk for them, but it would have been a nothing night for Fritz from the hay ride, who Zoe just noticed sitting and laughing with some friends.
"Fritz?" said Zoe.
Fritz turned around and loudly waved at Zoe, then came over. He was wearing blue jeans really high up. The rest of what he was wearing didn't really matter, but them blue jeans were up too high; it must have been uncomfortable. Also they were skinny ones, which clashed with the flannel of his shirt and his hair.
"Hey Zoe, long time no see," said Fritz.
"Funny seeing you here," said Zoe.
Zoe looked closer at the people with Fritz. They were his hay ride pals. They even had shirts with that on. She put her head on the table.
"Every one knows about this place, right?" said Zoe.
"Yea," said Fritz.
"Its because he does not card, right?" said Zoe.
"Yea," said Fritz, who sat down. Joss had not said anything. Two plus two make four and she just put something together.
"Why did Raymond get out of the car," said Joss.
"Because there was an accident," Zoe asked.
"Whose Raymond?" said Fritz. Neither Zoe nor Josh were paying attention to him.
"But why did he get out? He only had a shirt on, not a coat. Eugenie had on the lumberjack coat, and if I'm not mistaken, North Dakota is cold, yes?" said Joss.
"Yea," said Fritz.
"Because ... Raymond knew the shooter," said Zoe.
Joss fell out of her chair. Because she was still a superhero it did not hurt her. Still, if she were human the pure adrenaline of that would have made the fall not that bad.
Joss quickly ran over to the bar were Boris was, and said, "Half this bar is underage. My friend's mom is a cop."
Boris took out some scotch and poured it neat. He swirled it around in his cheek, then swallowed it.
"Who was Raymond meeting?" asked Joss.
"He was not meeting anyone he knew on a regular basis. It was someone, like, famous," said Boris.
"It's an official clue!" yelled Joss to Zoe, who high-fived Fritz. Joss felt in her heart that she was about to get out of this place victorious, as this thing was going good.
"You know this never ends happy for your type," said Boris.
Joss stood stone cold frozen.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Joss.
"Interpret that how you wish. There is just a very popular way this ends," said Boris.
"Well, I'm not popular," said Joss.