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Ein A "known unknown" place, the Land of Grit and Lamps was one of the worlds involved in Afterus - a place of questions and darkness, of manly johns and womanly dames.

A hard boiled place, where the only place to find color was under the golden halos of lamplight scattered around the only major location:

New Lamp City.

Nighttime stretches infinitely onward - a temporal standstill broken only by a scattering of clouds. Above, the sparkling blanket of stars and active celestial whole. Beneath the sky, the horizon contains only a single tower dotted with points of lamplight. Up, up, up, and up some more, the tower reaches so far into the sky that it is easy to imagine climbing all the way to the heavens up that distant edifice. All of this is seen through a gradually thickening fog, rolling snowdrifts of obfuscation.

New Lamp City sprawls out around four DISTRICTS, of which the party finds themself in is the strangely named SLUM district. More like 'the nicer parts of Gotham City', most of the buildings are period greyscale brick affairs with fire escapes. There's little garbage and what there is is strange - for it is things like articles of fairly well-to-do clothing accessories like watches and hats, trash cans filled with well-made black longcoats having seen only mild use, and spent weapon paraphernelia. Out on the street in front of the empty, locked up bar that the Blind Eye Detective Agency is placed over, is a red ROLLS ROYCE PHANTOM CONVERTIBLE that sits under a halo of gold light provided by a streetlamp. Oddly, and it stands out when it happens, as the streetlight flickers the car remains shockingly red. There is a bottle of whiskey in the passenger seat, and the faint smell of cigars eminates from the glove box.

Upstairs, through the walls, is the hard-boiled sound of MECHANICAL TYPEWRITER taks bashing away.

If anyone inspects why they've arrived back in the Land of Grit and Lamps, a vague premonition that you were doing something important... probably... fogs the mind. In everyone's pocket is a single slip of paper (or already in-hand as appropriate) that states:

Hello! You forgot to do a case! Please come back and help, Thanks!
Regards:

And then some absurd smashing of typewriter letters somewhat proximal to the signature line, with some nonsense like 'hhughuiuhdsgshragfap98hsergpub-' scrolling off the edge of the paper card, or slantways, or just vertically covering up text on the card.

Arthur, and only Arthur, recieves a card that is signed simply 'G'.

Roxas isn't signed at all, but there's a small drawing in crayon detailing a heist plan for what appears to be the bar beneath the B.E.D.A.. It is completely unintelligibly planned but passingly impressive drawn on the back of a business card.
Roxas Roxas arrives through a SWIRLING PORTAL OF DARKNESS, which probably looks pretty cool here. LOGAL is one of the few places where he can go effectively anywhere with corridors of darkness without /really/ looking around very much. It's because the whole place is darkness, sort of. The only problem, of course, is that there are very few places worth going.

He's holding his card in hand looking confused, "Umm... how did you guys get /mail/ to me? I don't live in a place with an address... and I'd really like to use your courier service because it's probably the best!"

"... Also, what did I forget to do?"
Raphael Cousteau ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Before anyone gets mad, I just want you to know that I am almost very likely not responsible for this.
LOGIC: We have awoken somewhere unknown with no idea how we got here or what we're doing. You are *extremely* likely to be responsible for this.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: OBJECTION! (Tell me to proceed, Judge Drama.)
DRAMA: Proceed, yon billowing bastion of intemperance and debauchery.
There is a moment as Inspector Raphael Cousteau's brain generates a drumroll.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Pain Tolerance! Report in on the status of our crippling hangover headache!
PAIN TOLERANCE: Kind of disappointing, but we don't even have one. It's like we don't have a hangover at all.
VOLITION: Wait. What? --we don't. Oh my God.

Raphael's just slowly walking through the streets as this goes. His input is really tertiary here, when it comes down to it. There's a case to be solved here, and maybe his more useful buddies will chime in as he goes.

INLAND EMPIRE: We've forgotten something we hadn't known yet. Check your pockets.
And so he does, pulling out the piece of paper. There's a long inspection, while he tries to decipher the hidden code printed on the card.
[.][:.]
LOGIC: No idea. Bet it's *super* important though. Probably should beat yourself up over this for a while. -1 MORALE

At least the car's still here. The beautiful, bright red car, which somehow has the whiskey and cigars back. Precious, precious car.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Hey, you know what would help us solve strange, mysterious codes?
VOLITION: No drugs until we learn what the new case is. That's the compromise. Deal with it.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Boring. Boring cop alert. Wee oo. Wee oo.

With that, he's just going to walk back into the Detective Agency. He's certain he missed something the first time, too.
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: Be the other guy

    Arthur can't be the other guy because the other guy is too busy being Arthur Lowell. He's already here when Roxas arrives. "God, you have NO IDEA." He gestures intensely to the newcomer. "The PROSPITANS run the POSTAL SERVICE and they GO TOUGH, homie. That shit ain't ever LOST."

>Arthur: Remember

    Can't do that.

>Arthur: Figure out your plan

    Might not need to figure out his plan. Arthur notices that Raphael is already heading inside. "Oh shit, it's the cop. I bet he knows WHAT'S UP." He does not know what's up. But Arthur isn't privy to any of his internal dialogue, and he's silent otherwise, so he's just gonna head on with Raphael and figure this out as he goes. Who the hell is G? Certainly a meaningful name to focus on figuring out.

>Arthur: Be G

    You don't even know if G is a real thing or just a random letter yet, knock it off!

>Arthur: Enter Blind Eye Detective Agency

    Arthur moved <IN>SIDE towards BLIND EYE DETECTIVE AGENCY
Doctor Strange      New Lamp City.

     Noticing that he is now Here and not in the Sanctum, the Sorcerer Supreme closes a book in his palms. Thump. He sighs. It disappears. This place again... It's strange and a little dangerous to boot. "I was kind of in the middle of something," he complains to no one in particular. ...he was, wasn't he? Something /here./ Okay...

     Strange removes the slip of paper from the pocket of his roughspun leggings. His brow furrows as he reads the simple, polite request. "I'll help," he says dryly. "But only because you spoke the mystic words."

     He arrives in the Detective Agency without sound of footfalls to herald his arrival. "Hey, Glasses." That will serve in their place, he feels. Is Glasses here now?
Ein The door to the BLIND EYE DETECTIVE AGENCY is opened!

The inside is archtypically old school.

A quick INVESTIGATE of the area reveals:
* A secretary's desk gathers dust just inside, near an inner door. A phone with a single set of handprints in the grey-on-grey patina of time. The dialpad only has signs that the number '0' was used. It has been further mussed with, and reveals that the phone cord goes nowhere, hanging off the side of the desk. The chair looks well-used, though it's no longer pushed in. There's shoeprints on the lip of the desk. Some sort of dried insect shell sits discarded in the trashcan.

* The INNER DOOR sits adjar, with an OBJECT jammed into the lower frame to keep it from moving. A fading investigation reminds you that this caught your eye previously.

* Past the inside door is a large desk in front of a large WINDOW. The window reveals a rainy cityscape full of color and light. A LARGE EXECUTIVE SWIVEL CHAIR sits facing the door. An ashtray on the desk is piled with a veritable mountain of spent butts, and a weird red crocodile in a suit and hat smashes away at a mechanical typewriter. Now and then, he places a new BUSINESS CARD-LIKE PIECE OF PAPER onto the feeder, rolls it with his mouth, and then bashes away again. There is a desk lamp on the table, illuminating a DUSTY SET OF PAPERS. They look as unused as the PHONE on the SECRETARY'S DESK.

* As you come in, GLASSES (aformentioned red crocodile typist) moves to gather up the ejected pieces of paper, before dropping them all into a comment box labelled 'HELP'.

"Naknak... Y'made it." Glasses trashcan mouths, raised eyes blinking asynchronously behind his namesake LARGE SUNGLASSES that he WEARS AT NIGHT.
Arthur Lowell >==>

    "I think it's VOID STUFF," Arthur says to Doctor Strange on the way in. "VOID STUFF is always like that. It's about WEAPONIZED NOT-KNOWING. We get some kinda EDGE for the IGNORANCE. Like, by NOT KNOWING we get to make some SERENDIPITOUS MISTAKE or, like, we get some kinda OUTTA-THE-BOX THINKING."
Ein * Be 'G'.

Glasses blinks at Arthur. ARTHUR cannot BE 'G'. 'G' is already in the SCENE.
Raphael Cousteau     Doctor Strange arrives in the detective agency before Raphael. There's a slightly raised eyebrow on his perpetual grin. There's an inhale. "Ah, hello, didn't see you there. Glad you're helping again!"
PERCEPTION (Hearing): You didn't hear him come in. It was dead silent.
> What? How could him walking be silent?
PERCEPTION: Sounds like a Logic problem! Anyway, /hey/, remember how you got distracted last time? Can you -please- go look at the doorstop nonw
LOGIC: The doorstop is irrelevant.
INLAND EMPIRE: It is everything. It is all-consuming. Uncover the truth of the doorstop.
> Hey, thanks, guys.

So, making room for other people to get in, Raphael does not acknowledge Glasses just yet. It is time to perform the ancient ritual of the Jamrock Shuffle; when in a room, disregard people, prioritizing checking any and all containers or out of place objects before beginning conversations. It is remarkably common practice among the police of the 41st Precinct of the Revachol Citizens Militia. Which means he's absolutely going to see what the deal is with this doorstop. It is surely critical to the case.
Arthur Lowell >==>

    "Nice job gettin' on the FIRST STEP of a LONG-ASS JOURNEY." Arthur says, flicking the card out of and then back into his SYLLADEX. "This another SMASH AND GRAB kinda case you need the HELP with, or what? 'Cause I can TRADE SOME HELP, get you your CASE SOLVED if you can get me some LEADS on my BIZ."
Doctor Strange      "And we're influenced by it because it's this place's element. Okay. That makes sense," says Strange to Arthur. Upon being greeted by the Inspector, he nods politely in that way that mystic types do--that slightly, slightly annoying way. Then, a casual "Yeah. Good to be here." Is it?

     While Arthur asks Glasses about the case, Strange checks out the papers on his desk, wiping them off with a gentle breeze of magically disturbed air, if necessary.
Ein * The Doorstop! THE DOORSTOP!

It is a smal shoe, appropriately sized for a red crocodile and not a person. It looks very loved. It sings a song of bereavement, a leathery mourning for its lost mate.

There is a right triangle of wood with notches on the inside as if it bore a weight or was struck many times. It is resolute.

* 'What's the job?'

Glasses hops up on the high-backed swivel chair in his mismatched shoe and sock. "Leads? Naknak, got lotsa leads. What's the biz?"

* DISTURB THE DUSTY FOLDER

The dusty folder has the label 'CASES'. Under it, in a sequential manilla folder, 'MYSTERIES'. Finally, there seems to be some photographs in a third folder, labelled 'MY' and then a black redaction and then 'STUFF'.
Roxas Roxas just sort of looks faintly baffled by... everything. Since GLASSES is TYPING, and usually that means there's some sort of information being communicated in the thing being typed! He meanders over to the desk in front of the window and grabs one of the cards being typed on. He suspects that it will be nonsense-- either that, or another incredibly compact HEIST PLAN.

He takes an extra and tosses it on the floor to make sure it doesn't turn into a switchblade or something.
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: That is why we're influenced by it, right?

    "No, I mean, LOSAF ain't got a bunch'a SPACE SHIT. I'm not sure where the VOID'S coming from. That's kinda... I mean, that's kinda what I wanna FIGURE." Arthur explains, uncertaintly, to Strange.

>Arthur: Request information about Bro's car

    "I need to know who shipped that car from Skaia to LOGAL." Arthur says. "You run me down some leads, you got me on your cases permanent-style, this one and all the other ones."
Ein * GET ONE OF GLASSES' CARDS

Roxas retrieves a card that Glasses had produced and not jammed into the 'HELP' box. It reads--

Hello! You forgot to do a case! Please come back and help, Thanks!
Regards:

And then is signed, upside down, 'hugahugdgs'.

You can picture this IDIOT smashing away at the keys with a vacant expression. In fact, the vacant expression on Glasses' beglasses'd face matches the one you're imagining, right now.

* THROW THAT SHIT ON THE FLOOR, IT'S GARBAGE

Roxas successfully litters. Nothing of note happens. They're not *really* business cards, they're more... scattershot help-postcards, signed by a complete imbecile.
Roxas Roxas picks the card back up and replaces it on the desk. He scratches his head, "Do you... actually know /who/ forgot to do cases, or do you just send these out until somebody comes back?"
Raphael Cousteau INLAND EMPIRE: (Challenging) Intuit the true value and purpose of this ineffable doorstop.
[:][.]
INLAND EMPIRE: I regret pretending I ever cared about this. We look like an idiot. This is boring. I'm sorry. -1 MORALE
VISUAL CALCULUS: Wait. ..What? Hold on. Can you please look at this a little closer? There's something here.
Raphael rubs his chin, slowly pulling the doorstop free from the door. He lets his vision unfocus a moment. Everything seems to fade away a moment, but for solid yellow lines he can see embedded in the wood, and strange lines on the shoe.
> Okay, we're doing the cool cop-stare at the shoe. Why are we doing the cool cop-stare at the shoe?

[:][::]
VISUAL CALCULUS: I don't know. It's a doorstop. Sometimes we just try things.
LOGIC: Hey, while we're here, though, I think I see the sequence of events. This shoe wasn't meant to be part of the doorstop. It's sized to one of those crocodile things, and if you squint a bit at the wooden triangle, it looks like one of those shoe-form things that is -supposed- to go inside of it. The most likely scenario here is one of the crocodiles put it into the shoe, then couldn't find the doorstop, but it's too wedged in there to remove--so they used the shoe-and- the wooden doorstop as one entity. This implies the existence of someone missing one shoe.

> Wow. That's actually pretty *cool*.
LOGIC: Damn right it is. +1 MORALE

Still, that would seem to have utterly borne out the full interest value of the doorstop. Why would he have twigged on this? There has to be -something- else he can do.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: We got this. Get that doorstop out of that shoe. Reclaim the shoe for the Nakkers. This is within your power. HOO-AH!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: (Challenging) Remove The Wedged In Doorstop From The Shoe
[:.:][::]

One hand on the toe of the shoe. The other on the wooden, notched doorstop. A singular yank, and--

He is absolutely pulling that doorstop out of that shoe. GLASSES, or whomever has lost that shoe, is absolutely reclaiming it today.

This was totally not a waste of time.
Ein * Ask about KEANE'S CAR

This one gets full lucidity from Glasses. "Yeah, naknak, that was weird. I heard it crashed far away. The FIRST BOSS left with his black car and..."

Literal large crocodile tears start pouring down Glasses's face, around his ridiculous shades. "We n-never saw him again, nak..."

After blubbering, the lucidity fades. "Well, nak's what my nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nak nakfather said the stories were, a nakkin' forever ago!" Glasses finishes. This may be some RACIAL LORE.

* Are you... mass mailing, Mysterious Nakkadile 'G'?

"Yes?" Glasses confirms, trashcan mouthing.
Doctor Strange      "Really?" says Strange to Arthur, looking over his shoulder after briefly poring through the folder. He's paused at MY ____ STUFF. "So... do we know if the phone was always like that?" He conjures a viewing glyph for Arthur, depicting the PHONE on the secretary's desk--including its wire, which seems to lead to nowhere. "Just trying to find out what's Nakkadile..." He pauses, searching for the word. "Custom," he says, inclining his head forward, "...and what's Void ignorance."

     He flicks the viewing glyph away. It dissipates into a little swarm of grey motes which slowly die out. Against his better judgement, he opens MY ____ STUFF.
Ein * Remove WEDGED-IN DOORSTOP from Glasses' Right Shoe

Okay, sure.

* Become a legend.

Wait, what?

Glasses begins crying anew, tears pouring down its chest like a shitty MS paint sprite being produced by physical eyes. "Y-you're the saviour, naknak! A miracle detective! Naaaaaaknaknaknak."

Glasses sort of flailarm vibrates next to Raphael's leg staring at his missing shoe. "You've solved... The cold case..."

This was the first case that you missed, like, whenever you came here ago. You get the feeling that it would have successfully set a different tone for this entire adventure. But the thread of that prophecy has been lost to the dark mist that rolls through New Lamp City.

* BE PROMOTED

Glasses pulls his pinned on badge, which still reads 'STAND-IN IDIOT' and shakily tries to attach it to Raphael's belt.
Ein * Open MY ___ STUFF

There're a bunch of photos of stuff absolutely covered in mosaaic street artwork and murals broken by things like 'alleys' and 'doors' and 'windows' and 'streets', worked in to a headtrip of perspective-obliterating shapes and contours and optical illusions that make what must be a main street look more like some sort of M.C. Escher paddleboat ride through an epic struggle of dozens of different characters all doing something appreciatively awesome.

Picture after picture, like an artist taking a quick snap of a chalk drawing before it's washed away, catalogs the whole area in brilliant colors - at least under the desk lamp.

However, there are FIVE PICTURES among the pile in random order that are completely 'undeveloped' - black on black, as if nothing was ever shot into them.
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: Find FIRST BOSS

    "Alright, you lemme get a good look at those records or whatever when we're back from whatever /this/ is." He declares. "So what's the case this time? Another smash and grab on something? A, uhhhh..."

>==>

    He just kinda observes the shenanigans with Raphael. "Oh, some shit about shoes. Shoes aren't ever relevant to anything, what the hell." He seems baffled by the idea. Surely it can't have any bearing on anything. "Was /that/ the case?" He says this in a long-suffering way, like he spent years doing this for his own local iguanas. He did, in fact, this was what life was like.
Raphael Cousteau INLAND EMPIRE: Reality fundamentally shifted by us not catching that doorstop earlier.
LOGIC: That's ridiculous.
INLAND EMPIRE: I agree.
LOGIC: No, listen, it's absolutely--I'm sorry?
INLAND EMPIRE: It's ridiculous. It's just also true.

Raphael looks down as the sobbing crocodile moves to pin the badge to his belt. He nods firmly, reaching down to assist. He's just going to go with it. There are things he does not understand, and thus far things have always worked best when he just allows The Dumbest Idea Possible to take over.

STAND-IN IDIOT BADGE

You fundamentally shifted the course of the future by failing to look at a doorstop in time. This badge shall live as your perpetual reminder that each of your actions, even the smallest, can fundamentally shift the path of the universe.
INLAND EMPIRE +1 Endless possibilities
DRAMA +1 Can't be taken seriously
AUTHORITY -2 Can't be taken seriously

With that out of the way, Raphael should probably get back to whatever the actual proper case is, as he cracks his knuckles and shifts his shoulder to and fro. "So, where were we, anyway? Solving a single case is a great way to start the evening, let's go for number two."
Doctor Strange      "Well," says Strange to Cousteau, fixating on the photos as another Strange appears in a flash of... white light. "There was that thing Arthur mentioned. If Glasses doesn't have anything, we could look for where the Void stuff is coming from." He looks over his shoulder, eyes briefly flicking down to Raphael's new badge. "You'd be a big help."

     He turns fully, handing the two undeveloped phots to the other!Strange. In return, he receives a pair of photos, safely sealed in a plastic bag, fresh from a pharmacy in New York. The two Stranges then exchange a finger-gun and a curt nod, respectively, before the other!Strange disappears in a flash similar to the first.
Ein * Find FIRST BOSS

Well, those pictures on the desk remind you that your friend was pretty big into ART.

And turned one of the DISTRICTS of the old LOGAL City into a giant personal art playground. This seems relevant as...

* DEVELOP THOSE PHOTOS

Hey, how convenient! Thanks, time powers!

Of the FIVE PHOTOS you see:

* A blurry photo of a massive painting frame. The entire canvas is black.
* A clear photo of a mural. A ginger-haired girl with long curly hair stands on <REDACTED>, but it's hard to make out the shape. You'd remember the girl, though. ARTHUR certainly does. There's a sense of frustrated joy.
* A photo of a battlescape with a giant monster that splits the sky, shiny black and decorated in an absurdity of ways. He looks REGAL. In the foreground is a box-like <REDACTED>. There's a sense of impending danger.
* A picture that doesn't resemble the others - An absolutely massive, titanic piece painted unto what you can barely make out as the side of a tall, tall building or edifice of some sort. The periphery doesn't look like it was taken in the city. Either some park, or outside city limits. With the black <REDACTED> taking up so much space, there's no clue what's missing. There's a sense of bereft remorse.
* Another blurry mural, this of the burning, smashed in bridge of a spaceship - from the first-person perspective. A freckled arm reaches out as if to stop a massive gorilla of a black Carapacian with a fedora on from striking down. Behind him, a <REDACTED> with a white lightningbolt 'held' or 'wielded' or carried. There is a sense of impending power, and impending ending.
Roxas "Where the Void stuff is coming from? I mean..." Roxas looks vaguely uncomfortable. He fidgets lightly, and continues the thought, "Isn't it coming from nothingness? That's sort of the point of the void, right? How do you figure /that/ sort of thing out? You know something can come out, but how do you meaningfully go or look in without not existing anymore?"
Doctor Strange      "Ideally," says Strange to Roxas, "...you'd find something left behind by an expert. A book, maybe an artifact. A Thing." He gestures vaguely with one hand while he flips through the photos. "You'd study it, retrace their steps until you understood it well enough to safely manage it. But..." There's a whole lot of nothing in these pictures. Strange's finger taps upon the <REDACTED> with a lightning bolt.

     "Void doesn't really /do/ the whole... learnable, observable... thing. Does it?"

     Strange extends the developed photos to Arthur. "Here. See if anything looks familiar."
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: Consider the impossible

    "An old friend of mine used to be, uh..." Arthur rubs his face. "You know kinda how I am with Space? She was kinda like that with Void. Only source I knew. Trouble was, she's basically gone, on perma-honeymoon or... something." He lets out a heavy sigh. "I lost track of her. Kinda how Void goes." He brushes aside some photos, and picks up one in particular, featuring an UNKNOWN GIRL. He holds his breath and closes his eyes, for about ten seconds.

    Always some dame, in places like this.

>Arthur: Track Space for each photograph

    "Or some photos. Only thing I can try to do is figure some kinda pattern. Hey G, you got a map of the city somewhere I can use?" Arthur intends to try to match these pictures with specific locations. Any pattern, any trajectory? Anything artistic, wrought by these pieces of evidence?
Raphael Cousteau     Raphael watches as Strange trades himself the developed photos for the undeveloped photos.
LOGIC: ???
PERCEPTION: ... ???
INLAND EMPIRE: !!!

Well, that absolutely happened, and nothing useful came of his cogitation on the matter. "...So, if I understand this correctly, we're trying to..find this lady?"
Ein * G, grab the map!

"I don't have a map, naknak. I can't read."

It's true, he can't.

* Get out a conspiracy pinboard!

Wait, what?

Pulling a DUSTY COVER over the previously unexplored RIGHT SIDE WALL of the office, Glasses dramatically reveals a CONSPIRACY PINBOARD. It shows that NEW LAMP CITY is laid out with a SLUM district, a MARKET district, an INDUSTRY district, a RESIDENTIAL district, and a HIGHRISE district. Highrise is in the center, with Slum and Market diagonal to each other. There is an 'off the map' circle, like Hawaii on a map of the US, with a BIG TOWER, marked PRECIPICE.

Helpfully, 'G'(lasses) holds a box of pushpins and a spool of red string.

* FIND THE SPACE

Well, you're pretty sure that most of the pictures take place in the INDUSTRIAL district. There's a road that runs around th four outer districts, guarded by gates.

* PLACE SOME PICTURES

The BOX appears to be missing from the Black King's fight.

The picture of the (UN)KNOWN girl could be anywhere, but she's wearing a particular outfit, so it must be somewhere after the...

Picture of the SHIP FIGHT, where the (UN)KNOWN girl isn't wearing the particular outfit.

The picture of the lonely tower is an enigma. It is the odd one out.

The picture of the massive portrait frame missing the contents, however, fills with foreboding and dread. Why would everything else be a mural, and that one stand apart in a frame just for it? It feels like something that absolutely should not have happened, happened. Wherever this frame is, it's probably hidden.
Doctor Strange      "Arthur wants to figure where the void is coming from." says the Sorcerer Supreme to the Inspector. Now that he's passed the photos over, he can turn his full attention to the conversation. He indicates this by turning around, since there's no reason to just pore over nothing with his back turned to Raphael and Roxas.

     "She might be helpful, if she's still around. Otherwise, we can find where those photos were taken, look around there." He pauses, then slowly lifts a finger. "Speaking of." Strange weaves another spell, tracing burning white lines into intricate patterns in the air. A stylized eye opens wide, revealing the roof of the building the agency is located in.

     Under his command, the view zooms out, swivels up, and speeds towards the TOWER in the distance. How far off is that thing? Is it perhaps within the city limits?
Ein * Cast Kilrogg's Legally Distincy Scr-eye

Cool, ok.

* Send that fucker scouting!

Racing off, out of the city limits becomes tough to get a signal after a few moments. The fog is like flying your nose through thick secondhand cigar smoke, choking and miasmatic. Features begin to blur, but Strange becomes fairly aware that, though he cannot quite place a definite finger on the topic, the picture of the massive structure 'in a park' or outside town is the PRECIPICE TOWER depicted on the 'Conspiracy' map Glasses started setting up.

Eventually, the static becomes too much and Strange loses cohesion with his astral eye, not too far outside city limits.
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: Can you put these pieces together?

    Arthur wracks his brains. In another time, and another place, in another universe, Arthur Lowell is an ace detective in the small town of Litchfield, trying to solve monster-related mysteries with his friends Blanka November and Johnny "The Dragon" Shores; were such an Arthur Lowell here, now, he would be all over this shit.

>Arthur: Be the other guy

    But he's not Ultimate Arthur yet, sorry. But for the trouble, Arthur softly whispers, looking at one of the last photos: "'There is a black tower, and someday, you will go there.'" A heavy breath. "She's still around. Somewhere. No fuckin' clue where, but she's not dead. I... don't know if she can be without us finding out. Not with how this multiverse works."

>Arthur: Decode painting

    "Do we know anyone who can do a whole, whole lot of Art Appreciation?" Arthur asks, with tremendous weight to his voice.
Roxas "Um... I have a question." Roxas raises a hand, a little. As if he is in a classroom.

"If this person who isn't around anymore could have helped with this... did she live here? Or, um... does she have a workspace here, or anything? That's a big painting... it's not something that you can put together without a /lot/ of room and a lot of supplies. Even if you were just painting the canvas entirely black!"
Lilian Rook     "So, one, what is the difference between Space and Void?"

    Oh no.

    "Two, what is this stupid 'mystery'?"

    Ohhh no.

    "Three, why can't you solve it yourselves?"

    No no no no.

    "Five, why do *I* need to be here?"

    Yeah good question. Probably also because nobody else who had a choice about it would have willed it to be so either. At best guess, the only relevant criteria would seem to be that Lilian is dressed pretty specifically for 'an actual night out on a lamplit town', albeit one with a much more entertaining nightlife than this dramatic noire thriller. You can tell because she gets in super late, and she's never late for anything she intends to be at ever. Like, ever.

    "I'm going to be charitable and assume you people have nothing to do with it, since you all look as cobbled together as anything else." She glances at Raphael, with something *approaching* sympathy. "And I can't imagine Inspector Coursteau engineering a situation any more elaborately contrived than organizing the seating at a wedding reception."

    "So, is it that . . . glasses wearing thing's fault?"
Ein * Accuse Glasses of Kidnappig

"Nak are you, a cop?" Glasses sidemouths.

Then, hysterics. "Oh no! Another mystery!" Armflailing. "Where's four? Four's missing! Oh nak! It's an e-nak-ma!"

He means enigma. "It's a job for--"

Glasses points at Raphael's belt-badge, which reads STAND-IN IDIOT.

"The *detective*, naknaknak." You accepted this unto yourself, Raphael. You allowed the buffoon to pawn this off on you.
Raphael Cousteau Raphael slowly turns towards Lilian.
AUTHORITY: That was *absolutely* an insult. Stand your ground!
SUGGESTION: Don't. You don't have the witty repartee or the argumentative basis to outmaneuver her, and you won't just bulldoze over her with harshness. Let her have it.

And then things immediately get gloriously stupid. But, within it, is still a glorious opportunity.

Raphael slowly, achingly, terribly slowly, looks to Lilian. "Well, I can start a long, drawn-out, elaborate investigation for the missing 'four', absolutely..."
That smile, that godawful smile, pings. He's completely in a position to send everything completely off the rails unless Lilian fixes this, right now, and he knows it. Either Lilian stops this train, or Raphael will dive headfirst into the most godawful, pointless sidetrack known to mankind.
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: Answer One

    "Space is like... geometries, creation, big pictures, uh... I guess kinda Earth-aligned on a bunch'a old elemental things. Void is like mystery, unknown shit, doubts, skepticism. I got Gates, gravity, dimensions, that sorta stuff, she had invisibility, she could do intangibility stuff, you know."

>Arthur: Answer Two

    "..."

>Arthur: Answer Two

    "I'm trying to find who's been messing with some old stuff about my Dad." Arthur lets out. He doesn't seem to want to say anything further.

>Arthur: Answer Three

    "Do I look like a fuckin' detective? I don't got the Light aspect I'd need to blow a hole through this Void shit. C'mon."

>Arthur: Answer Four

    "I can't answer four, you forgot one." Who's he talking to?

>Arthur: Answer Five

    "Oh shit, Lil'! Hell. Oh, you got an invite? Guess you were supposed to be at the last one. What were you busy savin' the world or something? Probably." Arthur shakes his head and waves her over. "C'mon, I gotta figure this out. There's chronology and location on this, help me draw some parallels. I know the fifth, the third, and the second go in order, on account of that's shit I lived through." He points to them in sequence.

    He regards Roxas. His face compresses into a flattened, confused "hmmm" sort of expression. "Dunno where to start looking for that though... could be a good idea. Any ideas where we'd get a lead on that?"
Doctor Strange      As his scry-mark fizzes out, Strange will let Arthur field the question about the difference between Space and Void. He's the closest they have to an expert in that regard. The sorcerer will just have to take a rain check on some Mystic Crap to spout later.

     He does tackle the other questions. Well, one of them. In his usual deadpan. "We haven't figured it out because whenever you're not around, we just kind of sit around talking about how great you are. We're all just idiots." He doesn't say anything about four. He doesn't have to.
Ein * CONFABULATE NUMBER OF IDIOTS.

Glasses asynchronously blinks again, behind his stupid tear-stained shades. "Naknak. Nah. Only one."

The nakkadile in a suit and hat and shades indicates Raphael's STAND-IN IDIOT badge again.
Raphael Cousteau     Raphael absolutely shoots two fingerguns at Glasses. "Careful now. I'm not afraid to deputize."
Roxas Roxas seems to consider the CONUNDRUM of not knowing where the GIRL actually might have done her art. After a moment, he snaps his fingers together.

"Glasses," he turns to the suited Nakkadile, "we need you to get a crew together to find and steal the most valuable paintings in the city. We don't know where they are or who they belong to, but I'm sure you know a guy for that."
Ein * BEGIN A MUTHANAKKIN HEIST FILM

"Gimmie twenty four hours, six fifty cash, and a set of keys." Glasses replies, instantly and lucidly.

He vibrates with readiness. Every single word Roxas said almost filled the very air with potent noir heist energy.
Raphael Cousteau There's a moment as Raphael checks his pockets. No. He does not have money. "...Well, if it's only /six-fifty/, I've got a plastic bag on me. How good at recycling can a town like this be, really?"
Will Raphael really go outside with a plastic bag to gather enough recyclable goods to return for deposit to fund heist preparations?

Is that a question anyone in this room is honestly willing to find out?
Roxas Roxas doesn't have that much money on him. But the /key/ request prompts him to go around the desk, open the drawer, and present Glasses with the set of KEYS that he already has access to. They start as GUNS before he puts them down again, obviously.

"Uh... and I guess I have this." He puts ten dollars, one hundred and fourty one yuan, and six gil on the desk.
Ein * Currency Exchange!

Roxas puts A TEN SPOT, 141 YUAN, and 6 GIL on the table.

Glasses picks up a COLT M1911A PISTOL from the gun drawer, and then fusses with the money.

He takes the ten dollar bill, and then places ten singles back on the table. Then he takes six singles, and four yuan.

He returns five gil to the pile.

Apparently glasses has GIL?

"Naknak exact change!"

Glasses seems SUITABLY ARMED to prepare for a HEIST.
Arthur Lowell >Arthur: Calculate everything

    Arthur totally zones out as several boxes display GIL, YUAN, DOLLARS, BOONDOLLARS, and OLD CANS behind him in varying levels. "Th... thanks. Okay, I guess we're doin' the painting heights to figure this. Should be easy to tell which ones are hers. Not like there's a lot of successful imitators of that shit around here."
Lilian Rook     "Space in which things exist, the absence of things existing. God it." Lilian snaps her fingers in an acknowledging way vaguely in Arthur's direction, getting a quick and direct answer to the thing she wants answered. Then, "No, you don't look like a detective, but you look like someone who should be familiar enough with this. And, 'Last One'? How many of these 'cases' have you been solving?"

    She hesitates. "Dad? You have a-- well of course you do, but aren't you supposed to be . . ." She stops and begins rubbing at her temple in general vexation. "So this is really important to you, right?"

    Then Raphael says Raphael words. Lilian begins sighing, and then doesn't stop, ramping up from a little puff of 'oh well' to a full explosion of exasperation. "Seriously? Well I suppose *you* aren't out of place. Good Lord." Finally she actually goes to look at the extremely archetypical detective bulletin board, where they're organizing photos from the STUFF folder.

    "This is all you've got? What's the importance of ordering them? Do you think someone was taking photos of a trail of places they went or something?" She taps the board. "*All* of these have missing elements though, don't they? Seriously, these are borderline useless."

    "And why is there a framed painting if the rest are all murals?"

    She looks at Strange completely without sarcasm or irony. "Really? I was under the impression most people sat around doing nothing, and just sort of talked about how jealous they are, veiled as 'how much I upset them.'"
Arthur Lowell >==>

    "It's complicated, but not so complicated that he wasn't my Dad." Arthur explains. "We don't gotta go into it." He figures, quite simply, that this just isn't that important. "This is number three so far, I guess."

    "See, this is how it always was about her. When we were back in the game, she was always kinda... rubbed out of the myth. Void shit, and all. I think it kinda internalized. For the painting... That's kinda the issue." Arthur spreads his hands plaintively. "I don't know shit from fuck about ART APPRECIATION. We need to bring in an expert. We need someone who really knows their shit about art. She's an artist, and I'm not about to put in the years to get an art degree."

    He's really focused on this art appreciation shit. There's no signs that it has any relevance to anything.
Ein Glasses ceases vibrating. He is Prompted.

* Request ART APPRECIATION

"Oh, you want some of those mural weirdos, naknak."

A crocodile claw extends to accept another TWO SINGLES from Roxas' money pile.

"I'll grease some claws, naknak."

Wait, there's MURAL WEIRDOS?

===> Transition the scene.

Can't, buddy. All you get is a fat TO BE CONTINUED.