Charlie sat in his chair, whistling. His feet were up on the table, and his mask was still on. He mumbled something, and someone passed him a beer. In turn, he passed them a few coins. He continued whistling. He fondled with his flamethrower. Cleaning it, and such.

Eva drank until her heart gave out. The recent news of her partner dying was tremendous. She would never know about the events that happened that day. She slowly got up from her chair. She walked over to the exit of the 100 Rads. She left the place, to find a place of solitude. At least their, she could sulk without a man trying to take advantage of the situation.

The second Viktor stepped out of the bar, Sergei raised his right hand and gestured for his prostitute to lean in closer. She brought her round, childish face up to his face and he whispered "Follow the boy that just left. That mask is familiar."
The whore nodded and set off after Viktor, occasionally touching someone's chin and blowing a kiss.
Sergei finished his cigarette and stood up, tucking one hand under the strap that holstered his sniper rifle on his back and walking out of the other exit of the 100 Rads and set off, trying to flank Viktor.

Viktor finished his glass, and set it on the counter. He slid his mask off his side, and put it back over his face. After adjusting it a little bit, Viktor walked out of the bar and continued to search the surrounding areas.

Sergei loosened another cigarette from his pack and slid it in between his lips. The bartender quickly walked over to him, a disposable lighter appearing in his hands, and with a quick flick, ignited the roll of tobacco that sat in Sergei's mouth. He thanked the useful bartender, and inhaled, the cigarette slowly crumbling and shortening. Two anarchists sat to his left, chatting about the usual anti-government topics.
A prostitue stood behind him, waiting for Sergei to finish, impatiently tapping her right food and massaging his shoulders while he blew out a cloud of smoke.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink. His mask hung from his side, and he patted it a bit to make sure it still was there. He smiled as he felt the mask, and continued to enjoy his drink.

Charlie sat, drinking. He played with a small ring he had picked up. It looked like a wedding band. He chuckled as he handed it over to another man. Who, in turn, handed over a stack of playing cards. Charlie would rather have the cards than the ring. After all, the ring had been pulled from a dead man's finger.