I’ve been going to New Way a long time, so when, doing my part-time P.I. job, a face whom only someone around as long as me would recognize arrived at my office around 4 o’clock in desperate need of help, I welcomed him in. It was Froggius Mann, a background mascot to be sure, but an important one; he’d been around the block like I had, so he spoke to me gruffly: “Listen, Simon, I got a star couple missing on my hands, and the big show is in only three days!…” He waved his bright green hands around to prove his point. “Ya gotta help me, you’re the only P.I. in this town I trust.” I slowly took my hat off the rack and put it on my desk. I knew it was going to be a looong afternoon. “All right, Froggius, what do you know?” 

“Buster and Br“Buster and Bridget Bulldog! They’re missin’! I haven’t seen ‘em myself at an assembly in years now! They were going to make a big return in a few days, but they’ve gone missing, and I don’t know who did it!” “All right, Froggy, slow down. It’s gonna be all right. Anything you can give me, or do I only have names to work off of?” “Well, they’re big actors, so they were working for the Walker-Ross Company, but then my business, the Chavez-Keathley Conglomerate, hired them to do another big show in their hometown… our hometown! And on the way, they went missing. God, I dunno what I’m gonna do.” “Any idea where they could be in town?” “Well, they always performed in the gym and liked to hang around the cafeteria, so maybe check there?” “Thanks, Froggius, that’ll help.” I paused and stood, slipping on my pin-adorned trench coat and dark green fedora and pocketing my Desmos iPad from my desk. “I’ll head out now. I have my suspicions about where to find a pair of dogs on a Thursday afternoon. Just remember, if I make this happen, you owe me big, Froggy.” “Sure, Simes, I’ll pay well.” Froggius Mann stood up and slipped out the large wooden door. I didn’t wait long to follow. In a Honda Civic, his monolithic green hands clasped the wheel until he became chartreuse-knuckled. I got into my car and drove towards the cafeteria. An idea is starting to form in my head, and it seems to be guiding me like a dog on a leash. After a short drive, I arrived at the cafeteria. From outside, I could hear the Cantina Band, Adam Jacapraro playing lead guitar, the same song they used to play for Jabba. I walked in, and it smelled like 2% milk and lies. As a veteran detective, I knew exactly where in this den to find information. My wing-tip clad feet tip-tapped to the barman, “Hey, man, I need two things from ya. A bottle of milk and some information on Buster and Bridget Bulldog.” The barman responded gruffly and suspiciously, “Who’s askin’?” “P.I. Simon McAvity, on the hunt for ‘em, they’re missing.” “I used to love their Spirit Assembly shows, damn good actors. I’ll tell you because of that, but it’ll cost you 200 Pride Tickets, old school paper ones, untraceable.” “150.” “165.” “Deal!” I was well aware that what Froggius was willing to pay would offset it. I snaked the money out of my pocket and handed it across the lunch window.

The Urban Phoenix barman counted the dough in his hands. Eventually satisfied, he turned to me. “All right, I hear they’re being sold to another school at the gym tomorrow night. If you’re fast, you’ll be able to save them. But I don’t know where you’re going to get the keys.” I knew where to get the keys: a special agent, codename Rogal Dorn. He was CIA. I’d worked with him before, and he was deeply embedded in the government, so I knew for a fact he had the keys I needed. 

My fedora covered my gimlet eyes as I knocked on Agent Rogal’s door. “Are you home?! Mr. ‘Crane’?!” The door slowly creaked open, and I faced the red-bearded man: no Primarch, no Special Agent of the CIA. “I need your help. I’m on a tough case, and only you have the MacGuffin I need.” “I understand. Just remember, I serve the Emperor of Mankind, not you. What MacGuffin do you need?” “Keys to the gym.” “I gotch’ur back, Jack. I’ll let you in there.”  

I walked through the school backstreets with Agent Rogal toward the gym. After maybe half an hour of winding corridors, we eventually reached the gym. Agent Rogal used the keys to let me in. He coughed, “You’re on your own from here, Simon. I’m sorry, but if there’s trouble, I can’t risk my cover.” I entered the gym, and it was completely empty, but that was to be expected. Maybe the hound and the dame were in the back rooms. I sank deeper: not in the weight training room, not in any of the offices, and then I saw it—a closet. It seemed to hum rhythmically for me, calling. I slunk toward it, Calculator ready to quick-draw on my hip. 

Three deep breaths: one, two, three. I flung open the closet door to find the pair of them. Buster and Bridget Bulldog—but they were… they were empty mascot suits. It didn’t make sense. Nothing had been the same since I’d gotten back from the Color War. I looked at the dog and the dame and sat down, wondering how much of tonight was real.