Susland sat in his office. It was a sunny now, but if one looked hard enough they could see a massive cloud bank moving in from the west. His door was a crack open, and the window on it was distorted so that you couldn't look at anybody who was in the office clearly. The window behind him looked out onto several rooftops, not 3 stories below. If one was to look directly down they would see a back ally about 15 floors down, with people who didn't want to conduct their business on the main streets milling about.

On the desk was a computer, a phone, and a few pieces of paper with pencils and pens beside them. If one looked closely one would notice that the desk itself was worn, with the finish almost gone and what may have been a few knife marks marring what was left. It fit the room, the wallpaper was drab, and the floor was concrete. It looked like the room hadn't been finished, and that the person that owned it was too poor to get anything better, or at least fix it up.

Which, thought Susland, Was true. He was a private 'I' now. Which meant that he got to choose which meals to skip so that he could pay his rent. On the other hand, there wasn't any bureaucracy to get in the way of his investigations, which was exactly how he liked it. So he sat there, with a newspaper, and a small smile on his face.

On the door to the office hung a sign that simply read: "Susland Mason - Private Investigator"

It was a bit of a surprise to Susland when a man walked through the door without knocking. He was even more surprised when he lowered his paper to find that it was a man in a business suit that probably cost more than Susland would make in a year. He looked around till his eyes fell on Susland and he shook his head, and closed the door behind him.

"Are you Mr. Mason?" he asked, his voice filled with tension and worry.

Susland set down his paper, "Yes I am, grab a seat." He waited till the man had complied then continued, "What is your name and what can I do for you"

"I am Cody Tarrance." Susland blinked at that. Cody was the owner and lead designer of an online game called Dream World. "Recently my site has come under attack. Not just online, I get a few everyday and our security deals with them, but recently our lead artist got shot in the arm in a drive by shooting"

Susland nodded, "I read about it in the papers. But other than speculation there doesn't seem to be anything linking it to your company."

"The part that isn't in the paper is that we received threats" He paused a slightly haunted look in his eyes, "Not that that is new, we get them all the time. However just before the shooting we got one at the office that read It is time for Hank Greymon to WAKE up and face REALITY. I didn't think anything of it of course but then this happened."