He walked up the stairs into a quieter room where a group of men were sitting at a green felt card table, staring intently at their cards.

"Look, fellas, the great Comet Light's here to make another donation to my retierment fund," said a bald man said.

"No time for a game tonight, boys, I was hoping for a more... direct method of acquiring information." He reached into his utility belt, making paper ruffle meaningfully. "Apparently there was some guy in here wearing a highly colorful costume with a rather oddly shaped hat, looking for some workers. Any of you happen to see him?"

"He was in here the other night, wanted to pay cash up front, no questions asked," the man who had spoken before said. "Usually those kinds of jobs are all kinds of trouble, I figured I'd be better off sticking to the cards."

"Anyone else?" Comet asked.

"Not a peep, that's why he only got a few third rate thugs desperate for work," one of the other men said. "Those guys were so clueless that little pint sized pipsqueak who runs around with you could probably take two of them singlehanded."

"Three actually," Comet boasted.

The table burst into guffaws.

"She your daughter or something?"

"Can't tell you that," Comet said. "Secret identity, you know."

There was a crash coming from downstairs. Comet rolled his eyes. "Duty calls."