The black muscle car rumbled into the gravel parking lot of what looked to be a bar/saloon in the middle of nowhere, upstate New York. The place was south of Rochester by about forty miles. Above the entrance, a tacky red neon sign read "The Roadhouse". There was no one hanging around outside, but thee were several cars and motorcycles. It was pretty quiet for what one might expect of a bar, at least from the outside. As the car pulled to a stop, Blade glanced at his passenger. This was going to be...interesting. She was too pretty and far to classy for a place like this. Hell, she was probably too stunningly beautiful to be in this car with someone as rough around the edges as Blade. But here they were. People would notice as they went into the bar, but nobody would say anything. Of that fact at least, Blade was certain.

"We're here. Stay close, and order whatever you want. The food's actually pretty good, and the drinks are better. Once I get some information on where to find some suckheads, we'll be out." He flashed a little bit of a toothy grin. "Guess you could say this is the closest to a "date" portion of this outing as we'll get."

They both pushed their doors open and stood up out of the car. The parking lot remained silent. Hunters and mercenaries were probably inside drinking quietly, enjoying a bit of peace. There were the occasional loud, rowdy drinkers - usually the mercs - but most just wanted a place to rest and get information before the next big job. Also, most didn't trust the night enough to be drunk out in it. Blade knew the bartender inside. A good woman by the name of Ellen who really knew her shit. It was why he liked coming here. Of course, he knew the bartenders in most of the Roadhouses around the country. It was a bit of a chain, but not in the corporate sense. When a place was named "The Roadhouse" in some back country nowhere, it was a kind of secret sign to all hunters and some mercenaries that this was a safe haven and a good place to exchange information and get jobs. They were also neutral zones. Any who dared cause any trouble in these kinds of places was blacklisted, and that was as good as being fired in this line of work. In some cases, it was a death sentence because it also meant no assistance in any job ever again.

"You ready?"