╰⪼ ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏʀᴋ ᴄɪᴛʏ, ᴜsᴀ // ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ 𝟷𝟷ᴘᴍ(ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴀɢᴇɴᴛ, ᴀssᴀssɪɴ ᴏʀ ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ, ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ᴏᴄ, ᴀɴʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴏʀ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴏᴡɴ sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ)

(It was a dark night at New York City in the Megacity, the moon illuminating the city a little darker then most nights, but that didn't matter. The four brothers who are also agents, Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, and Private were at the club/bae we're plotting something of their mission while they scout for their target, as the loud music that filled their ears before they all take their seats on the back booths. As they settle onto the tall bar stools, Skipper leans forward slightly, giving the others a quick, firm nod.)

Skipper: “Alright, boys.. Eyes sharp, backs straight. We’re not here for the drink menu, we’re here for a Class-A troublemaker. Blend in, but stay alert. Eyes open. We blend in, we watch, we wait.. When the perp shows their ugly mug, we move. Isn't that right Kowalski?” (Skipper glances at Kowalski and drummed his fingers once then looks around like he’s cataloging every face in the room. While Kowalski adjusted his sunshades and tapping a small notepad hidden under the counter)

Kowalski: “Affirmative, Skipper. Based on the crowd density, the suspect has a 72% chance of being seated near the back booths.. that’s the left side, in case anyone’s lost.” (Rico was already slouched on his stool, tapping his fingers on the counter like he had dynamite waiting in his pocket.)

Rico: (Rico grunts then smirks when spinning a straw between his fingers with his eyes dart eagerly) “Rrrghh… Boom?”

Skipper: (As Skipper eyes go half-lidded then sets down his drink on the table) “Negative, Rico. No ‘boom’ unless absolutely necessary. And preferably never indoors when in public..” (As Skipper said, snd Private politely sipping a soda, feet swinging slightly)

Private: (Smiles then looks at his brothers) “Do you think their dangerous, Skipper? I mean, we don't even know what they look like. And plus, we are a bit noticeable. Four blokes in matching black coats sitting in a row…”

Skipper: (Before Skipper wraps his arm around private's shoulder) “That’s why we’re here and pretending to have a boring conversation, Private. Trust me... Nobody suspects a table of guys talking about nothing. Stay sharp. Our target’s in here somewhere.” (Skipper said quietly, voice low and crossed his arms.)