"This is getting out of hand."

"It's under control."

"Two in one night? I thought you were keeping this under the radar."

"We are under the radar. They think that Mike is with the Pirates. And I'm sure they'll cover up this one too."

"...We need to slow down."

"SLOW DOWN? Every day is another injustice. I won't wait. I'm ending this."

"..."

"..."

"Careful Icarus."

"..."

"Those wings might burn."

~-~--~-~

In Starr Park's original design, the park was meant to be nothing more than a circle of land with theme parks in separate sections. The entrance gate was going to house the gift shop, a main event stage, and of course the security office. While the main events have been moved to the entertainment district the gift shop and security have remained where they were first born. The gift shop is still just as quaint as the day it was built but as Starr Park grew so did the security. Now there were offices everywhere. And with residential areas sprouting up like weeds in a parking lot, there is a need to protect every inch.

With every new officer, there are fifty more solicitors. There just is not enough security to protect every bit of the park. As such it's not uncommon for the public to bring justice into their own hands. Would-be vigilantes happen to appear but they last for days at most before being squashed by the absurd problems of Starr Park.

But one man refuses to give up on justice. He's realized that vigilantes come and go. Rushing headfirst into danger with a blind rage would get him killed. However, a more calculated approach never fails. One with careful planning, detailed digging, and an established location.

On the edge of the entrance, resting between the food district and the heart of entertainment complexes lies a two-story building. Its brick-and-mortar walls were crumbling away with the weather. The windows were smothered with fog. Furniture stained with the stench of tobacco. And a lone office resting on the perimeter.

Within this perfectly square box is a desk, a lamp, a cabinet, and a chair. Along the eastward wall was a corkboard. Pictures were posted with thumbtacks and strings created lines in seemingly random directions. Matching causes with effects and asking questions that haven't been answered. Standing at the front of this board is one man. A lone bastion of justice when the law won't answer the call.

A mute. A mime. With his cane in clutch and his fingers against his lips. His name is Gray and he's the true private investigator of Starr Park. Even if they don't know it yet.

On this dark, stormy night Gray pondered his board with much trepidation. There were a couple of oddities he'd noted. Disappearances. Cover-ups. And a wildcard he didn't see coming.

Then with a flash of light came his visitor. An unexpected arrival. Though he was expecting not to expect him, so it doesn't count.

Gray turned to the undead mortician. He slowly took his fingers away from his lips. A stream of smoke passed through them as if he'd taken a long drag of a cigar. And the smoke rolled over Mortis's hat with a pungent scent.

The mortician didn't flinch. With his eyes wide open he reached into his back pocket. A massive beige package crunched onto the floor. Gray looked down faster than a fly rushing to elephant dung. Then they shot back up to match Mortis's stare.

Mortis nearly whispered, "It's all there. The money. The evidence."

Gray twirled his cane about his wrist. Then in a grand motion, he slammed it down. A small hole opened beneath the package. It disappeared into nothing and then reappeared on his desk. The portals closed with a blink and the force of the package dropping on his desk made the drinking bird toy bob.

The two continued to sit in the silence of the storm's ambiance. With the window wide open the rainwater could assault his wooden tiles freely. Water damage is sure to creep up without proper cleaning.

Then from the open window came a storm of black wings. Mortis was swallowed up in a tornado of bats. Though his eyes were still visible beneath. Crimson. Unblinking. Demanding. He left a single order in his wake.

"Find Her!"

And with that, he was gone. The force of the bats' disappearance forced the window shut behind them. Gray was left alone once again. He turned back to his board and brought his fingers up once more. Another wave of smoke passed from his lungs. It morphed through the air into a perfect ring. One that wrapped around a strange picture.

A fox in the hen house.