Hale woke up the next morning in his bed feeling satisfied, as if he had accomplished something even though the last thing he remembered from the night before, was him slathering healing cream. He must have gotten drunk at either Grandma Angela's Meatball Shack or Grandaunt Belinda's Fried Chicken, and stumbled into bed, which was highly unlikely but Hale had nothing else to offer to himself. Hale brewed up some tea, showered, dressed up in his work outfit, and got prepared the necessities to go out. He check his watch, eight twenty-three, with a sudden realisation, he was almost late! He finished his tea in a single gulp, slipped on his shoes and dashed outside to hail a taxi.
Yesterday, before the spar, Calypso had told Hale that she was going to introduce him to the other members of the team, who were very busy trying to fix one of the machines on the second floor, and now that they had assigned the task to someone more classified, they were finally free to hang about. Hale stepped into the office, this time, more lively. Mrs. Bardsley, was working at the reception as always, two men who looked around Hale's age, and Calypso herself meandering around, supervising between the two men. Hale paced towards the taller, older one, who was at his desk, doing what seemed to be editing a Pandora's box. "Sup," the man said without even looking back. "Names Andrew," He added, "Yours?"
"Hale James Seuss." Hale answered,
"Alright, James, my job here, is the designer." Andrew started, "What I do, is to create and design the tortures that you deliver to those sinners." He informed. Andrew then, with a white coloured pencil, drew some horrifying drawings with practiced ease onto a piece of black coloured paper like a blueprint, then placed the drawing onto a neat stack of black paper nearby that Hale assumed to be the blueprints Andrew had made earlier, "The packager takes these and turns them into the Pandora boxes that you we all know and love," he continued, "You would need to ask Jeep, ahem, I meant Mathias, for more information."
Hale left him to his work and trotted over to the other guy, who was standing next to the wall map, studying it intensely. "Hello there," Hale greeted,
"Hello" the map man muttered.
"What's making you so occupied right now?" Hale questioned, the map man's eyes lit up.
"There's this sinner, who keeps appearing and disappearing around the city, somehow avoiding the Felon Finder. I believe that this particular sinner is involved with Jeep's disappearance. Any opinions?" The map man stared curiously at Hale.
"Firstly, nice name, secondly, maybe that sinner has invented a sort of camouflage disguise?" answered Hale.
"Interesting, names Luke." Luke held up his hand.
"Hale." Hale replied shaking Luke's hand. Not wanting to disturb Luke with his investigation, Hale bounced towards the front desk for his next assignment, only to be stopped by Calypso, "Ah, you'll have to come back in the evening for the delivery, because of some," she paused, "technical issues," She smiled apologetically. "Take a half-day off I guess."
"I'll go get a cup of coffee or something." Hale offered.
"Good man." She patted Hale's shoulder and sashayed off towards the machine room upstairs.
Hail didn't know why people touched Hale's shoulder so many times, maybe some upper being was doing it on purpose? But whatever the case, being touched, bumped, tapped, and so on, on his and Hale's shoulders helps with Hail swapping consciousness with Hale. Now that Hail had some free hours to lose, why not try out the disguise he had made the day before? Hail changed darker clothes, donned the mask and the pine-coloured poncho, and slipped his brass-knuckles into his pockets, and set to the slums. The main reason why Hail chose to slaughter in the slums, was mainly because the people there were nobody of importance, and nobody would probably notice, if a few homeless people were to mysteriously disappear. Would they?
Epimetheus looked at his watch, it was already late evening, "We just don't understand why the Felon Finder is broken, sir." Calypso confessed to Epimetheus.
"Was it properly maintained throughout it's service?" He questioned,
Calypso frowned, "The machine gets properly maintained every single day."
"Perhaps it wasn't a mistake? I will have to look into this personally, there's no need to create such a big fuss about something so minor." Epimetheus lectured. "Now, send the info to my office." He ordered. After Calypso strode off to fulfil Epimetheus' task, Epimetheus muttered to himself, "I hope this one entertains me."