Hopalong sighs, and goes over to deal with Cindy while Connor wanders off with his chip.

In his room, Connor buckles down with the chip data, and starts to parse through the pile.

Key facts emerge:

PoliDemos is the group that wants a service done (or someone is doing a fine job of faking them).

PoliDemos and Petsonal Petsonalities have an agreement that looks an awful lot like a contract - but if it were an actual, enforceable contract, why wouldn't they be dealing with lawyers? A little weird, but there it is.

The point of the contract appears to be that PoliDemos is allowing Petsonal to exist more-or-less unmolested, on the condition that Petsonal breed basilisks, but that it be absolutely dead secret that they actually have basilisks, and that they provide those basilisks to PoliDemos only. Why it's so important that it be secret, isn't clear. Why PoliDemos needs basilisks, isn't clear. Why Petsonal should not supply basilisks to anyone else, isn't clear. What PoliDemos is doing with them, isn't clear.

One thing that is clear, but isn't explained, is that they refer to basilisks specifically as atavophid basilisks. What precisely those are, isn't clear, if they're at all different from regular basilisks, which may or may not be the case.

They do not stipulate a price for basilisks, and as far as Connor can tell, there is no money changing hands - nor anything else, so far as can be determined, except for basilisks. A number of delivered basilisks is not specified, but there is some kind of reference to a breeding queen and egg incubation, and the offspring therefrom, but what is a queen basilisk, other than a female basilisk? Is the reproduction parthenogenetic? Maybe? It's not clear.

Other files are a bit more straightforward. There are old records relating to the building in which Petsonal Petsonalities does their thing. It's an old two storey building on the southwest side of Ballard, which used to be a light industrial building way back in the day, but is now a specialised pet shop with some breeding and training facilities. The place is crawling with paracritters, including (but not limited to) barghests, cockatrices, salamanders and more - but is, to be fair to Johnson, about two steps above a mom-and-pop-shop. Security is contracted with Knight Errant, under some kind of arrangement with Lone Star (things get a little murky there) but there is no constant, on-premises security.

Connor reads between the lines that there's an existing, possibly long-standing chilly relationship between PoliDemos and Petsonal Petsonalities, but the reasons are unclear.

Finally, what is pretty clear is that PoliDemos thinks that they are being cheated, and that something is up with basilisk deliveries that isn't up to par. Their reasons come down to some very dubious logic about the apparent wealth of the Petsonal Petsonalities business, and how else would they be packing away so much cash? But if one were in the business of selling highly trained barghests, wouldn't one be raking in the fat sacks of cash money?

Connor doesn't know. But he has a lot to think about.

Blue sits back and heaves a deep sigh. What the drek is that all about? The relationship between the two concerns needs some more thought and investigation. The term 'atavophid basilisk' gets some juices flowing, though. Lots of ancient and current reptilians have 'ophid' in their nomenclature, so this being a reference to a reptilian makes sense. 'Atav'? Atavism? Are they manipulating the basilisk genome to express ancient characteristics? +++They made some old-style 2D videos long ago about that kind of foolishness, with predictable results.+++

It does seem like a reasonable hypothesis to explore. How far back would they go? A T-rex with a gaze weapon? +++Whoa.+++

Something else rings a bell. Blue digs out some notes he made a while back on fungus properties. Yeah, there it is. He tried out references to myconids, to see what properties of mushrooms he could stumble upon for use at Biozu. A spelling error showed him myctophidae, small glowing fishes. +++Damn, it's good these things have so much memory I keep everything.+++ From there he found protolophids. Yeah, that's it. Spiders, with a reference to mineralized bone tissue. +++Oh, no, no, no. They can't be doing that Universal Brotherhood thing all over again. No, that doesn't make sense. Nobody would be that stupid or greedy.+++

Blue settles on his preliminary hypothesis. Petsonal is pumping out some kind modified basilisk, and Polidemos wants them all. Petsonal does all kind of paranormal animal work, and has customers other than Polidemos. Polidemos fears Petsonal is cheating them out of exclusivity.

So, all he has to do is determine whether Petsonal is delivering their basilisks to anyone else. Yeah, that's all. A simple astral patrol is not so simple, with all those paranormals who are present on both planes all the time. Fly in there astrally and get blasted six ways from Sunday.

This takes planning.

By the time he's finished, he realises that the house is quiet. Presumably Chuck and Carlos decided to bed down, and Hopalong has quietly murderised Cindy and is currently pickling her head for display. It's the wee small hours of the Thursday morning, and the loudest sound is the wind outside whipping around the dripping gutters.

Not reptilian-friendly weather, anyhow. Of course, if it's the spiders - wait, aren't there spider shamans? Well, maybe that would be OK. Or not.

Of course, a bigger question is why a business with hellhounds and salamanders on tap is taking any kind of crap from a small-time policlub.

After some thought, Blue figures he needs to gather more information. The workings of Petsonal Petsonalities sounds like right up Henry Swift's alley. Polidemos? Who knows? Wouldn't hurt to ask.

His current state of seclusion might make Blue's contacting Henry a little tricky. Best to check with Hopalong about checking in with an acquaintance. Blue wanders out into the main room to see if Hopalong is still up. And to see what happened with Cindy.

After contacting Henry, a little foray astrally around the Petsonal facility might be in order.

By the time he resurfaces, the living room area is completely deserted. The autodoc is tucked away again, ready for the next user. Cindy is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Hopalong - nor the guys, for that matter. He could probably knock on every door to see who enjoys sleep the least, but that may not be a responsible approach to space-sharing.

Henry Swift might indeed be a good bet, and so might Mary Margaret McMahon. After all, she probably does biz with them as well as their customers.

Either way, contacting them might be as simple as ducking outside and hailing them electronically, but would that really be the wise move? Maybe Carlos would know.

Blue considers the empty room. +++Sometimes being out of sync with others is a pain.+++

Connecting with his contacts is a necessary step, but Blue doesn't want to risk being found by doing something careless. He can't call someone from in here, but stepping outside might fix his location if someone has his known associates bugged. Billy is probably a reasonably safe connection, but Henry and Mary are likely known. What to do? Carlos might have an idea, but damn if he isn't hidden behind some door here. Knocking on doors and waking people is likely to get some bad reactions, especially from Cindy who, for whatever reason (don't ask!) is quiet right now.

+++Maybe a hearth spirit would be able to quietly search him out. Yes, a hearth spirit of this place might maneuver in it better than a Watcher. +++

A hearth spirit like a cranky old landlady with caked-on cosmetics, electric FlayvrVayp and sour expression arrives. On hearing what Blue wants, she shuffles down the short hallway a bit then jerks a thumb at a door. It's closed, of course, but that's where Carlos presumably is. She mutters past the stem of the FlayvrVayp: :::He's awake. Ya might as well go in.::: Then she sighs heavily, folds her arms with a long-suffering air and looks blandly at Blue. What else could this bossy dwarf possibly want from her tonight?

Blue nods at the helpful spirit. :::Thank you. Please stay nearby for now. :::

He goes to the door and knocks quietly. """Carlos. Got a minute? I could use your help."""

Carlos emerges from the room, looking somewhat tired but still clearly awake. """Sure, chummer, what's up? Hell of a day, huh?"""

He doesn't look particularly nervous or anything - mostly just tired, but of course as a night shift worker his body thinks that he should be awake. Maybe Hopalong needs to stock those patches to rectify the body clock.

Blue notices the sleepiness in Carlos' eyes. """You look the way I feel, chum. Listen, I have to contact a couple of people I know, but to do that I have to step outside this building, and all I have is my regular personal assistant. I'm afraid if I use that it will alert Mitsuhama to where I ... we are. Any chance I could use that burner you have to make a couple of calls? Or, if you have extras, I'd be happy to buy one off you."""

Carlos scratches thoughtfully at the stubble on his chin. """Y'know, man, I wouldn't. If you want to be safe, I'd go out of here, at least two, three klicks off, then buy a burner at a Stuffer Shack or some drekhole like that, and then keep moving before using it. Just in case they somehow eyeballed here, and just in case they somehow correllated with where we were earlier, y'know?""" He yawns, folds his arms and leans against the doorjamb. """'course, it depends on how much you want to talk to folks. I'd just hang tight until the heat dies down. But maybe there's this hot chica you just got to see? I understand."""

Blue shakes his head. """Naw, no sweet date tonight. I drummed up some business earlier, and I need to get some information from some people I know. I have two weeks to figure out what's going down in a business deal, but I'm not sure even what the deal is. Thanks for the advice. I'll do that. If you get bored, let me know. I could use someone with your talent, and I'd be happy to cut you in on the pay ... if it works out."""

Carlos yawns elaborately, and starts to shuffle towards the kitchen. """Gonna get a soykaf. This all-day drek is killing me. But sure, let me know, though I really can't be doing much from in here. In a week, maybe. For now, I want big M to give up, so I'll wait it out."""

Blue considers his options. He considers leaving some of the prepared spell items in his room, but who knows what he will need? He has them strategically placed around his body, their location and shape memorized. The pistol is still holstered under his coat. :::Thank you for your service, spirit of this place. I must leave now. Go rest.:::

He steps outside the safe house and drinks in the comforting blanket of darkness. +++ Might as well get what help I can to keep from being detected.+++ He decides to summon a spirit of the city.



::: Thank you for coming, spirit of the city. For now, conceal me from all who seek to find me. Do this both on the physical and the astral planes. ::: +++Damn. I wish I had had time to sterilize my home and office. Oh well. In future I might have to rely on Makeover more often. No toothbrushes or combs. +++

Blue checks his personal assistant, and locates a nearby Stuffer Shack. +++ Let's hear it for 24/7. +++ He heads out, ducking in alleyways, beside cars, doing what he can to break any line of sight that might lock onto him, hoping the spirit's power will prevent a re-connection.

Seattle is a strange city. Unlike the New York Central Metropolitan Zone, where 3:30 AM is only about 80% as loud as 3:30 PM, Seattle goes surprisingly quiet except in the few areas (such as the docks) where activity is perforce continuous. The weather in March is also not very friendly to strolling, so most of the activity that Blue sees is vehicles swooshing by. It might also be the spirit's activity, but it's hardly a surprise that a mist creeps into the area, turning gradually to drizzle while he walks. A sign outside the Stuffer Shack, brightly visible a quarter of an hour before Blue even reaches the door, announces that the ambient temperature is -1C. Blue can see the drizzle gradually congealing and freezing onto cars, windows and transit shelters.

The good news is that this seems to reduce street level criminality. The only real group he spots is a huddle of people around a fire barrel. Near the fire barrel he can spot a sack of solid fuel, marked with the logo of a local food bank and charity. The fire barrel has a Knight Errant brand on it - Blue remembers that those supposedly have heat-fueled surveillance electronics built into them. Community policing, hard at work.

The Stuffer Shack is one of a new anti-looting style that they have. Instead of open shelves, in high risk/shoplifting areas, you go into a front space, and punch in your shopping list on a terminal. A drone collects it, and a clerk flat out of other employment options hauls it through a security gate on the counter for you, while you slot your stick. Blue notices that some wag has drawn a crude version of a vulva around the credstick slot - but given it teeth. Commercial vagina dentata?

Blue smiles at the social commentary of the credstick slot. He can't say he disagrees with the message. He picks a middling burner phone from the menu and selects it. He readies the credstick he got from Mr. Johnson to pay for the device. Nonchalantly, as he waits for the delivery, Blue looks around to admire the night, and give a once over for any suspicious attention he might be drawing.

::: Spirit friend, be close to me in case I need you. :::

The spirit drifts around, looking to Blue's eyes like a thicker wisp of the mists that enrobe the streets. A casual thump of the burner on the counter brings his attention back to the immediate present, given that the only attention he appears to be getting is from the clerk - and then, only barely.

The speaker crackles: """Thank you for choosing Stuffer Shack.""" It must be a recording - the bag of fat, bone and complacency behind the counter didn't move his lips.

As Blue turns away from the counter (he might have been the only customer in the last hour), he also spots a couple of figures in a car on the corner. He doesn't think that they've noticed him, or if they did, that they kept their attention on him. But something about the car's design and paintwork suggests that it's a gang vehicle. Of course, a lousy neighbourhood like this probably is gang-infested, but it would be good to know who ran this little corner of purgatory. Blue doesn't know local signs enough to be able to tell - most gangs are more subtle than the 'weeners.

Blue Considers the occupants of the vehicle for a moment, then decides to trust the concealment of the summoned spirit to do its job. Sensible to keep an eye out anyway, though. He takes Carlos' suggestion to heart and moves on up the street some, looking for a convenient corner, doorway, flight of steps or group of vehicles to hide behind to make his calls. Blue continues to watch surreptitiously for any pursuit.

So far, so quiet. Nobody's pursuing that Blue can tell, and there are enough canopies, overhangs and general weather protections in front of businesses that it's not hard to find a doorway of a closed massage parlour where he can reach out electronically. There isn't even a hobo sleeping in this one.

Blue sets himself up while unpacking the burner phone with as good a view of the surrounding street as possible from the doorway. He decides to call Henry first. dialing from memory, he waits for the answer. Yes, yes, it is the middle of the night. If he needs to leave a message, he will.

There is no answer, of course. Even bookworms go to sleep sometimes; or perhaps he simply doesn't answer unknown callers in the small hours of the morning.

However, as if in answer, snowflakes start to drift down past the pools of light cast by shop signs. They glitter prettily before turning dull and grey on the ground. Mid-March? A little late in the season, but not unusual.

Blue leaves a message for Henry.

<<<Henry, Connor here. Sorry for the lateness of my call. Life has taken a drastic turn and I am out of Biozu and hiding from Mitsuhama. Please do not tell anyone you know where I am or that you have been contacted by me. I will fill you in more when we can talk. Use this number only, please. And ... call me Blue, please.

I have been contracted to investigate a deal between a business called Petsonal Petsonalities and a group called PoliDemos. Any information you can give me about these two would be greatly appreciated. Maybe with my advance I could buy a couple of those books you have been recommending to me for a while now.

I look forward to talking to you again. Keep me apprised of any new material on Nietzsche as well.>>>

Expecting a similar time lag issue with Mary Margaret, Blue sends a message direct to her inbox.

<<<Mary Margaret. Connor here. Sorry for the lateness of my call. Life has taken a drastic turn and I am out of Biozu and hiding from Mitsuhama. Please do not tell anyone you know where I am or that you have been contacted by me. I will fill you in more when we can talk. Use this number only, please. And ... call me Blue, please.

I have been contracted to investigate a deal between a business called Petsonal Petsonalities and a group called PoliDemos. Any information you can give me about these two would be greatly appreciated. Let me know! I have an advance on pay and will need to restock some materials, sooner or later. I look forward to seeing you. >>>

Connor looks around. Snow, huh? He turns up his collar and starts for home. The spirit is close by, in the astral.

The snow continues and grows thicker, with fatter flakes, while he walks back. It's a better visibility blocker than the mist before, but also colder. A cold front must have swept in from the Pacific, because in less than half an hour Blue's nose and ears are stinging, while a crisp white layer forms on exposed surfaces. It's while this continues that the burner vibrates.

It's Mary Margaret.

<<<Hey there, Baby Blue. Are you the cerulean sprite of my dreams?>>> She always had an impish sense of humour. Well, in her line of work it's not surprising. <<<Yeah, I know those groups both pretty well, whaddya wanna know? The screamsheet is that Petsonal's a custom awakened animal breeder, trainer and maintenance specialist. They sometimes have rejects that turn into telesma, and so I've done business with them. Nice people, but definitely used to dealing with the upper crust. Nobody else can afford their puppies. PoliDemos, now, they're a different kettle of kraken. Imagine you had a really controlling mom, who would break into your bedroom, read your journals, put trackers in your clothes, hire private eyes to follow you and then beat you with a rubber strap for holding hands with the wrong girl. They're like that. But without the love and chocolate chip cookies. Doesn't surprise me they're doing business with Petsonal; they're probably getting trained hellhounds to hunt down people who don't make sure all their trash is fully compacted before disposal. But it's good for property values, I'm sure.>>>

Blue can't help but smile at her message.

<<<Good to hear from you, M&M. I'm in a new line of work, and am checking out a deal between those two. I'm wondering if you know what an atavophid basilisk is. My limited knowledge of biology suggests the name means something back in evolution, and something either reptilian or insect. You ever hear of a Breeding Queen in basilisks? The Polis want these basilisks and allegedly the Petsis are providing them. Also allegedly exclusively. Why, huh? I'm supposed to figure out if the deal is being honored. But I think I better figure out what I'm getting into, first.

<<<Anything you can dig up would be really helpful. And of course, I will be grateful.>>>

<<< Sorry, chummer, means nothing to me. Never heard of ata-whatever basilisks. It's all just awakened lizards to me... wait a minute. OK, I can't guarantee anything, but it's just possible it's a thing that isn't actually a basilisk. I can't really talk about it, but keep your eyes open for something that looks like a cross between a snake, a skink, and a dragon, maybe as much as a dozen feet long or more, that shows up on the astral. If it's what I think it is, everyone involved is in a lot deeper than they should be. Stupid slots.>>>

<<<M&M, as usual you have me intrigued. Come on, you know more than you are telling, else why give such a cryptic warning? If things would get hot for you, maybe I could send one of my special little items to help you overcome the worry. Maybe, a handy Heal spell-on-a-stick like the one I showed you a while back. Complete with instructions. Use it for yourself to get out of a sticky situation, or sell it for a nice profit.

<<<My life could depend on knowing everything I can, if what you intimate is true.>>>

<<<Look, Baby Blue, it's not what you think. If what I suspect is true, then they're not that dangerous. Less so than actual basilisks, anyway. But I'll give you this for free: I think someone has a hidden agenda with these things, and what they're asking you for isn't what they really care about. Now, I gotta go, unless you're going to come over here and help me dissect this dire wolf and pickle bits.>>>

<<<Thanks, M&M. I'll keep your advice in mind. And I'll pass on the wolf.>>>

Blue has a lot to think about as he heads back to the safe house. Man and spirit keep a watch for trouble on the way. The snow is a bother, but useful cover.

By the time he gets back, the temperature is down a few degrees more, and the snow is thicker than flaked krill floating down a digester tank from a thirty kilo sack. Everything sounds muffled, and even a bus driving by is on snow fittings, running at low speed. If it keeps up, there'll be inches on the ground by sunrise.

The safehouse is still quiet, but the warmth of its heating system is like a blast from an oven by comparison, and his ears and cheeks burn as the warmth hits them. At least the kitchen has easy dispensing of soykaf, and a range of other beverages. They will be hot.

Once inside, the city's spirit leaves unless there are any last minute instructions.

Before ducking in to the warmth of the safe house, Blue sends the spirit on a reconnaissance mission around the house and environs, looking for any other astral presence that might be hovering in the area.

Sure, lots of them! But after ten minutes of shivering in the cold while the spirit regales Blue with commentary on the spiritual aspects of lichen, moss, hibernating spiders and shrubs, he comes to the tentative conclusion that nothing of immediate interest is paying any substantial attention to him.

Despite the cold, Blue shrugs and laughs at his own careless language. +++Almost as bad as computers, spirits are.+++

:::Thank you, spirit, for your thorough report. Please go home now, your service is ended.::: Blue enters the safehouse, and makes a cup of hot pseudo-chocolate to help warm up.

The safehouse is warm, quiet, and comfortable after his trek through the night. Connor could use his time getting in an early bedtime, or he could sneak back outside to try communicating with the world, or he could do research based on static resources in the house or ... he could play some of those virtual games that Chuck and Carlos were trying? What a selection.

There had been no reply from Henry on the walk back, not that Blue expected it. Henry runs a traditional, day business. It sure is nice and warm n the safe house. Blue grabs a snack from the kitchen and decides to have a look around. Maybe a library?

+++ Hmmm. Safehouse. Wonder if there is a safe, or other hidden place. Would a hearth spirit be able to tell, or find it? Let's find out! +++



+++ I hope it's the same spirit. I'm growing fond of the crotchety old thing. +++

Sure enough, there she is. The power of the summons works on her, but doesn't seem to have manifested in any particular way other than a big mug of coffee from which she sips.

:::Sheesh, what are you? Some kinda nightowl? Do you know what time it is?::: She cackles a bit before sipping more coffee. Spirits can have a sense of humour, after all.

She's wearing fluffy bunny slippers. They have rhinestone eyes that gleam.

Blue laughs out loud at the joke. ::: That's me ... night owl all the way. Listen, I feel like figuring out this place I'm holed up in, so I want to explore a bit. If you know of some hidden places, little hidey holes and such, let me know, please, otherwise look through the building and check for such places. I'll wander around and get the lay of the place. Maybe find something to read.:::

:::Sure, sure, I know all the holes, where the bodies were buried, the ways in and out. I mean, ya find them when the plumbing breaks or the electric goes bad, doncha?::: She takes a big sip of astral coffee before leaning against a doorjamb.

:::Lotta things tucked into wall spaces mostly. Sometimes, holes drilled into doors, doorframes, things put behind carpet tacks or under tiles, yaknow? List as long as my last squeeze's gear lever, and twice as thick, if you know what I mean - but really, they're mostly empty. The only things big enough for a person are the panic room, and the emergency exit, and they're both downstairs, in the basement.:::

Blue's curiosity is piqued. :::Show me the rooms downstairs, first please, then take me to the hidey holes you mentioned that are not empty.:::

She leads Blue downstairs. The door swings open for her, and the light shows the various utilities and laundry equipment. She passes by them, and goes to a blank section of wall. A blank electrical cover swings out a bit, and behind it Blue sees a switch. She points at it and grunts. :::That opens panic room. Ain't fancy, but it buys time, I guess. The exit behind it leads to a transit tunnel. Don't know where that leads, don't care.:::

:::That's very helpful, thanks.::: Blue inspects the panic room, noting what supplies and amenities are stored there. Is it merely a roadblock while the residents escape through the tunnel, or could they hole up here for a while?

Then he turns to the spirit. :::Now, if you could continue and show me those hidey holes that are not 'mostly empty', I'd appreciate it.

:::You're a very useful being to have around, ::: he notes, with as much positive energy as he can muster in the mental message.

The panic room contains a sparse but useful set of kit. There are a couple of boxes of ammunition, some respirators, food for a while - but the strength of the door is probably not up to a determined assault, so it is probably just a delaying tactic.

:::Yeah, well, used to being used.::: She grumbles but willingly points at a door. :::In that door itself, drilled in a hole from the top and corked with a bit more, some kinda chip thing.::: She points at the room in which Candy is. :::The closet rail in there is hollow, metal. Unscrew it from the wall, there's some sticks of explosive. Never liked that.::: She goes to the kitchen, and points out a lighting fixture. :::Behind the glass, taped to the top so it won't cast a shadow, is another chip thing.::: She points to the wall behind the house's entertainment node. :::If you bust open the wall between two studs there, there's a bunch of combat drugs and stuff. Hate that. I'll stick to coffee.:::

Blue feels a pang of guilt and pity. Silly isn't it? Feeling sorry for a being of the ether. But there you go. :::Well, know that I appreciate your help. Why don't you go back home and enjoy a rest? I think you've earned it.:::

After the spirit leaves, Blue decides to wait for a couple of hours or three to see if Harry gets back to him, and to greet his rising roomies. In the meantime, a cup of tea and another shot at those documents on the chip.

By the time that the sun is up, not much later, Blue has not yet discovered anything particularly exciting about the nature of those documents, with the minor exception that apparently PoliDemos provided a gravid atavophid basilisk to Petsonal Petsonalities without a transfer of any ownership rights.

However, Harry does send a message back, intimating that while he's not very familiar with Petsonal, he knows quite a bit about the origins of PoliDemos and would be willing to answer a few questions.

Wow. A chance to actually learn something about what is going on. Blue steps outside, keeping his face hidden by his hat, and turns to face the wall of the building. Who knows what drone or satellite is looking for him right now.

He initiates a call to Henry. +++ Alright, Henry, be your encyclopedic self. +++

<<<Good morning. Excuse me, I am at breakfast. I'm not really sure what information would be valuable to you, but in summary I would call them an originally beneficial community organisation led astray by a narrative of righteousness into a series of developments culminating in a nascent, ostensibly extra-legal neo-feudal establishment founded on practices that would not be particularly outlandish to the Cosa Nostra. Certainly, I would advise the greatest of care in dealing with their representatives, because they have the strength of the self-righteous combined with the cupidity of the robber baron. I have every reason to believe moreover that their goals, irrespective of their rhetoric, have shifted substantially from their initial interest in defending their holdings into a more outward looking frame of reference for strategic and tactical action, which may well precipitate more active resistance from hitherto uninvolved third parties.>>>

There is a pause, perhaps for a sip of coffee, then: <<<Does this go some way to assisting you in your inquiries?>>>

Blue grins at the sound of Henry's over-the-top stretch of ten words into a hundred.

<<<It does indeed go some way, Henry. As usual, your erudition knows no parallel. What would really help, though, is to know how this group might get a hold of an unknown paranormal animal which they call an atavophid basilisk, the nature of which I would like to understand, and why they would want the exclusive use of progeny from such a beast.>>>

<<<As to their access to paranormal creatures, I can only speculate. I'm not presently familiar with that particular creature, or at least not under that designation. If you have a more precise description for me, I might be in a position to engage in some more fruitful research but basilisks as such are not generally known to have more than one significantly differentiable variety. However, given my knowledge of their methods I strongly doubt that they would be intending any trade in the field, rather than putting the animals to some specific use of their own. As a general rule they are better known for cruder exercises of power, whether political or otherwise, than for their steps in the delicate and nuanced dance of trade.>>>

<<<Thank you, Henry. I might have a description for you soon. The caution about the tactics and goals of the group is well received. In touch soon, I hope.>>>

Blue goes back inside and has a cup of herbal tea, waiting for either Carlos or Hopalong to rise.

Blue looks up from his cup of herbal tea at just the right time to spot a pale figure peering around the corner from the short hall with the bedrooms. Medium height, dark hair ... wearing a translucent shirt, female ...

Oh good. Cindy's awake.