Alistair scanned the dark alleyway. He took out his pocket watch. It read 12:00am. The smell of half-burnt batter wafted out from Casa D’ Waffles even at this time of night. As he looked out into the darkness again, he had the feeling that he was being watched, that Syrius was hiding somewhere nearby. As he walked farther down the alleyway, a man hopped off of a roof, and landed with a swish in front of him. “You are the great Syrius Hawkins, I presume?” Alistair inquired. “That’s me.” Hawkins replied. “Well in that case, I suggest that we waste no time standing around. Let’s talk about my job offer.” Said the detective. “I was looking forward to this meeting, Mr. Detective. I’ve been quite bored with my recent musings.” “It does appear that your masterful talents in stealth and robbery were not tested by the feeble security measures at my shop. Anyway, I called you here was because I suspected something. Something of which I am now for certain is true. You are bored. I am bored. We do not have any challenges to meet our intellectual capabilities. If we join forces, we should be able to find cases and run my business in a more efficient manner. How do you like the ring of Stratford and Hawkins Private Investigators?” “As I said, I’m in.” “Ok, well, I’ll see you at my shop, three days from now, at six o’clock am.” With that, Alistair slid into the shadows.
Their meeting being over, it was now 3:30 in the morning. Alistair gave up the notion of sleeping and decided to head over to the coffee shop. As he walked up to the supposedly 24-hour coffee shop, he realized that there was a line in front of it. Instead of wondering why so many people were in line for coffee at 4 in the morning, Alistair pondered why he couldn’t have his coffee “whenever he wanted it”, as the sign in the door proclaimed. He noticed that the weather was quite strange. It was not quite cold and not quite warm. While he grumbled about forgetting his trench coat, a stranger walked up to him. He was an average looking man, whose rough features suggested that he worked long hours, probably at a low paying job. He introduced himself as one Robin Spartacus Moore, bowling attendant. The two men talked at length about many topics: the coffee shop, their respective work, and the meaning of life in general. In the end, neither of them came up with much of substance, despite giving it their best shot, and they decided to give up conversation entirely. Alistair somewhat liked the man, as he had made a tasteful pun about his investigative line of work. Alistair thought puns an ingenious form of communication indeed, and he invited Spartacus to visit him at his shop anytime he liked.
Having never gotten his coffee, Alistair walked back to the shop to prepare for the day. As he strolled down the street, he heard a radio that was usually tuned to WTF just playing static. Back at the shop, as he flipped over the open sign, he could not stop thinking about how weird the town was. “Something is coming,” he thought. “Something is coming.”