[center][h1]New York, [i]Stumble-In[/i] Bar, October 19th, 1926 5:00 P.M.[/h1][/center]

5:00pm rolled past as afternoon turned into evening, the arid environment of the [i]'Stumble-In'[/i] bar soon began to fill with the overlapping chatter of men wanting a drink after a long day's work. People from all walks of life: Laborers, veterans, farmers, bankers and more from all walks of life came together under the same pretense - there without prejudice. 

In a dimly lit corner booth sat the man formerly known as Agent Zero. Though he had all but abandoned his former title, his codename, it still held some personal significance to him. Memories, maybe, though horrifying as they may be. 

He could still smell it: the pride and the fear, the rush and heat of battle, the way his hands and arms would tingle with each pull of the trigger. Death in his hands. 

It didn't matter who: German, Japanese, or civilian. All of them a statistic, a number, one for the record books. David could still remember Octavius' words ringing out in his mind as the two of them sat for dinner one night in the pastor's large home. 

The old man spoke of righteous anger, God's anger, and the difference between it and murder. David would spend hours awake at night, asking questions, sharing fears. He had lost himself in the firing of mortar and shell, explosions ringing in his ears. [i]'How could a loving God let this happen?'[/i] He would ask, filled with horror at being in the presence of Death itself. But it wouldn't be until years later when he realized. God is not responsible for Man's actions - Man was, in their boundless free will and infantile cruelty. Children waging war amongst themselves, then blaming their conflicts on their God, in hopes of easing the burden; the guilt. 

Opening his eyes slowly, David looked about his surroundings, a small frown teasing at the corner of his lips. Chasing ghosts, that was what he was reduced to; navigated by rumors alone as he had been following a muddled and twisted trail, looking for his sister, the only one left who he could call [i]family[/i]. 

David's reverie of thought, however, was quickly interrupted by the sound of heavy bootsteps heading his way, their pace and speed hinting that, whoever was walking towards him [i]wasn't[/i] in the mood for friendly conversation. 

Adrenaline kicked in, his old war instincts moving muscle for him as, in an instant, David was on his feet, swiftly drawing one of his Colts from under his jacket and pointing it in the direction of his pursuer, just in time to see three long metal claws protruding from a man's fist, just inches away from his face. The man appeared more animal than human; teeth bared and snarling, the look of a predator in his eyes, ready to go for the kill.

"What kind of shit are you trying to pull?" The burly man asked in a gruff tone, his already dark expression darkening even more given the ambience of the bar which had (rather quickly) gone silent as the scene unfolded around them.

Initially silent himself, David kept his finger held on the trigger, appearing to size his opponent up and down, showing no visible fear at the claws dangerously close to his skull, keeping an almost hardened expression. 

He slowly began lowering his pistol as his expression turned from one of cool focus to that of remembrance, recognition. 

"Wolverine..." David said in a hushed manner, keeping his gaze fixed on his former teammate, unsure what to say, do, or think. 

"I always thought it would be Odysseus running into me." He eventually commented, keeping his expression neutral as he had no idea what to make of the situation currently at hand. 

Snarling, clearly not amused by David's response, the man identified as Wolverine retracted his claws back into his fist with the blink of an eye, however this was only so he could wrap a meaty fist around the collar of David's shirt without complications and pushed him back into the wall with enough force that the wooden panels behind him creaked and groaned under the pressure.

"Odysseus isn't here, just you and me, bub. Start talking."

Nostrils flaring, Wolverine raised his opposite hand, the metalic claws still out, unlike the fist he had around David's shirt that kept him pinned to the wall, and pointed them back to David's skull to ensure he stayed put.

"What is there to discuss?" David asked strainedly, instinctively tilting his head back as best as he could. 

"Don't. Fuck. With me!" Wolverine growled in an extremely low tone, adjusting his grip which resulted in a seam somewhere splitting on David's shirt. "I [i]saw[/i] you die. Now you're going to tell me what the hell is going on here, or we're going to find out if you can do that little party trick again." Wolverine moved his fist a mite bit closer to David's face, the very tip of the middle claw tickling against David's cheek to prove his point.

"Operation Morning Star..." David began, his typically deep voice becoming raspier the more pressure Wolverine put on his collar. "Survived the fall, don't know how. I blacked out then woke up lying facedown in the snow. What happened with the mission, with the Team?" He asked, swallowing painfully. 

Wolverine's eyes narrowed on David, seeming to surmise something about his words - to find any fault, though he seemed to find none since his grip on his shirt lessened, eventually letting go altogether.

"You pissed your sister off. We got what we needed, and she got the hell out. I walked out after her, but she'd already gone her own way." Wolverine said without a stitch of remorse or regret in his voice, only hardened... cynical. "I haven't seen her, Jaeger or Odysseus since..." Wolverine took a step back, putting distance between them again. His eyes looked David up and down. "And I certainly wasn't expecting to see you again either..."

Dusting off the collar of his now-much-baggier shirt, David took a moment to take a full breath before responding, "Neena? Do you have any idea where she could have gone?" David let out a small sigh before continuing on, 

"I pray for her safety every day...though my search has turned up less than fruitful. God willing, I'll find her." 

"God's got nothing to do with it." Wolverine was quick to reply, but rather than it turn into a debate, he pressed on. "Domino and I were close, but your death snapped something in her. She never told me where she went. She was done with the mission, and done with the Army. Frankly, I don't blame her. She's gonna kill you herself if you ever find her."

David couldn't help a small smirk at Wolverine's words. His sister was always the more hot-tempered of the two. He had no doubt that when - [i]if[/i] they were reunited, she'd have more than a few choice words for him. 

"I've been looking for her for the last few months now. After I fell I stayed in a small village in Germany, under the care of a Methodist preacher. I've only been back in America a short time, but I cling onto what little hope I still have." David answered, letting out another short sigh of fatigue and anxiety. 

Shaking his head, Wolverine finally retracted his claws on the one hand in favor of being able to cross his arms over his broad chest.

"Checking a bar for Domino is a bit spot-on, but she aint here. You're gonna have to widen your search-" Something dawned on Wolverine there, David could see it in his face. Wolverine uncrossed his arms and used a hand to scratch his gristled chin. "Actually... I might know someone that can find her for you... at least be able to tell you were she is..."

David said nothing at Wolverine's words, simply offering the older man an inquisitive glance. Even during the War, words were few - actions became the main form of communication. Wolverine and Odysseus lived in that world. A world of stoic silence. 

Wolvering looked to him, as though expecting him to say something, but once he gathered that he would be remaining silent, he continued.

"I've been involved with a... well... different sort of work while I've been here in New York. There's a man... a man like... well like the X Team... special. He might be able to help ya out." Wolverine paused, seeming to think something over in his mind before he started up again. "Listen, why don't you stop by The Old Rose on the 26th, 10-am. It's just down 43rd. Looks abandoned, but me and a couple fellas own the place now. Just stop by and I'll get ya introduced; see what he can do, if anything."

David nodded slowly, clearly taking in Wolverine's words. "More mutants...Perhaps God has heard me." He said with a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. 

"I'll be there..." He assured Wolverine simply, remembering the location in his head. "You have my gratitude." He said next, holding out his right hand to shake. 

Wolverine just seemed to look at him for a moment before extending out his hand to shake, gripping it firmly and shook it once.

"I'll only say this once and deny ever saying it should you ever bring it up, and I still have no idea how the hell you pulled it of... but I'm glad ya ain't dead, Zero."

David couldn't help but feel somewhat strange at the mention of his old codename, something he had try to bury in memory, in history. Nonetheless, he smiled lightly, "Me too, Wolverine...me too." With that, he gave a brisk nod to his former teammate before moving past him and out the door. There was much to think on...

[center][h1]New York, [i]'Old Rose'[/i] Bar, October 26th, 1946 8:53 A.M.[/h1][/center]

David could feel it, the light pinpricking droplets of a typical autumn sprinkle, giving the busy New York street a wet, misty air to it. though David didn't mind. It brought him comfort, almost, as with the rain came life. Water. One of God's many gifts to mankind. 

Soon his destination came into view, [i]'The Old Rose'[/i]. True to its name, the building looked to be in some state of disrepair, with the windows boarded up, the signs faded and worn from being exposed to the elements. Yet...David could tell the building wasn't [i]truly[/i] dead. Insinct, maybe. 

Making sure no one was explicitly watching, David stepped up to the front door, brushing away some gathered dust and slowly opening it, stepping into what he felt was a completely different building. 

Whereas the outside was worn and dying, the inside looked refurbished, revitalized. The floors were freshly polished and cleaned, any scratches and marks had been filled or otherwise covered, the bar was freshly stocked, electricity seemed to be working efficiently. It was generally a welcoming environment to be in. 

David's sight instantly landed on two women, both appearing to be a couple years younger than he was. Looking at the two of them, he could instantly detect glaring differences between them. One was radiant, full of life with a pleasant face, attractive curves, full dark hair and a generally positive aura. The other was pale, almost sickly so, with long, thin blonde hair, a petite, stick-thin figure, and a very fatigued look about her. But David could only offer a small smile in her direction. Something about her....intrigued him. Like she was lost, in her own mind, maybe. 

Approaching the duo with a certain stride to his step that only came with soldiers, David unzipped his old bomber jacket before breaking the silence. "I suppose the two of you are here for the same reasons I am, yes?" He asked curiously, his tone very calm and composed, though one could easily pick up his rather strange accent. 

"David Thurman." He began again, introducing himself with a brisk nod of his head. He knew that it was likely his old nickname would come up sooner or later. But now, at the moment he didn't want to be Zero...too many harsh memories. Right now he would be David - well-disposed, helpful, kind....[i]innocent[/i].