A Puddle of Beer and Piss was on the bar floor along with a shattered glass. The light flickered on and off with the rumbling of the Subway not making much of anything brighter. The Tables were worn down and the Bar was near cracked to no existence, but it still functioned. It was Marle's Tavern and Grille.

"Another." Detective Tatum slurred in the drunken tone he had stumbled with more recently. An aged man of no more than 6'5", wearing a trench coat and run down clothing. He wore a Black Shirt and Denim Jeans with Holes, smoking a Cigar as he finished drinking his Whiskey. Clover Looked over at him with a Mincing Glare.

Clover was a Bartender here and works the night shifts, the worst shift to work. Typical Bartender Wardrobe working with a white shirt and pants and Black vest. He had a thick beard and a bare skalp as his huge size seemed underestimated by some of these drunks that stumbled in. The one he hated the most was Detective Amos Tatum. The Cocky Drinker who barely could drive afterwards.

"You've had enough, Tatum." He told him. He finished cleaning the glass he held and put it on the counter. He looked over at Amos and then pointed to the door. "Leave, Tatum. Nothing for you here tonight."

"Come on!" Tatum replied loudly as he slurred with too much of a drunken care. He wanted to get more Alcohol, but Clover refused him some.

"No! Go home or I'll take you home!" Clover told him. Tatum was slumped against the wall snoring and about ready to fall. He didn't delay in falling asleep, so Clover hurried and came to him to take him home. He took him outside to his Ford Model T and prepared to take off. He turned on the Car and drove off down the street, meeting ways with Berlin Avenue.

They finally made way to Tatum's Home, by which Clover Remembered. He took him inside the house and took him upstairs. He then laid Tatum on his bed and turned off the lights. Clover left the home and returned back to the Tavern. Clover Smiled as he turned down back to the Bar, but as he arrived, the Tavern was blown up. Clover swerved and made way into the Grass as he witnessed a very large ball of flame rise up into the sky.

"Oh God Damn piece of-" He muttered under his breath. The Bar was his wife's and he was going to die. He then thought of the Idea that he could blame it on the troublesome Mages.

The Next Afternoon

Tatum Woke up with a Hangover the Size of a Bowling ball and an aching stomach that made him barf on the bed. He went downstairs and got a pack of Ice from the fridge and applied it to his head.

"Damn Headache!" He yelled as he tried to wake up. He stumbled a bit as he walked to the door. When he got outside, he sat down on the steps and watched the train as it passed him by his house.

What's the Date? He puzzled himself for a moment as he thought about the date. Yes! It's The Seventh of June, 1915.

Tatum got up and took a small walk to the mailbox as he thought more about the time. 6:42 AM, Bar blew up last night, Mages commit thirty more crimes all over the country, Jazz has become a large factor finally of the world.

Tatum was a Seer, a gifted one who abandoned the Mages and became a Detective on the Supernatural Police Force. He was able to see everything happening within a One Minute Time Slot and see into the Past. The Police Force has never had a Detective like him and they never will again. He looked up at the smoke the rose from the ruins of the Tavern And Grille. He mused over himself as he thought of how to innovate his future attendance.

"The Bar, they burned it down yesterday." Old Man Zack said behind Tatum. He was a short bald man who looked like he lost all his teeth. He was round on the sides and had brown eyes, making him a small businessman. "It wasn't anybody's fault, you know."

"I know. It was an Accident caused by a Blow out in the Kitchen. The Stove caused it."

"How do you know?" He asked curiously. Tatum simply smiled and walked away. Tatum wanted to find another bar to go to since that one was blown away by another "Accident". He didn't have any time to deal with supernatural affairs beyond the Mages and didn't have time to look so deep into the past. Tatum was a humblin' man who has never been sober ever since he was 15.

He drank his life away ever since the death of his mother and father, both in a Train wreck. "The Roller Incident" they called it. Happened in Wyoming when the Mages adestroyed the Upcoming Bridge over Magi Ravine. The train fell and eventually blew up from all the oil it was carrying. Only Three Survivors of the crash, all Mages.

He drank away his tears as he took sip from sip of Wine, Bear and Whiskey (which he combined all three one time). His aging attitude was that of a 60 year old senile man who had completely lost it. He didn't want to remember anything. He didn't.

But he was gifted in the way that he could see the past and the future, but only so much. He couldn't see the present because the present was unpredictable by a longshot. He could see Alexander The Great Marching his Army on the Battlefield, the conquest of Mexico away from the Mayans, the Aztecs, and the Incans. Even the time of Adam and Eve he could see! But he could only see one minute into the future and see his own present. He is limited to such an extent that made him useless for stopping a murder right on the spot, but it was enough for him to deal with things like bullets and surprises.

He continued walking down the street and passed the street sign of Simpson Boulevard. He gave another twist and waltzed down the street like a clueless man. He passed Laundry Mats, The Bowling Alley, the Bookstore and Several residence before he found his new Bar. Patrick's Irish Bar was a very small bar, but served the three Tatum needed to pass off as another regular.

He opened up the door and saw immediately three guys with muscles huger than him. All three white with one having a Tattoo on his Left arm of a Dragon, the Other two having scars on their eyes.

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