Once upon a time, in a land not that far away called Grandville, there was big man with a naughty scar over his left eye. This man's name was Officer Balsam and he was searching for someone, several someones in fact. He searched high and he searched low. He asked many questions to some of the local people, but he received precious few answers.

One night, the big man with the naughty scar trotted his way over to another man's house. This man's name was Martin and Officer Balsam had a few questions for him that only Martin could answer. He hoped that Martin would be as helpful with his answers as the last few people he interviewed. He hoped he wouldn't have to kill this man too. Killing was always so naughty, but sometimes necessary.

Martin was home when Officer Balsam paid him a visit, and although he looked slightly nervous and alarmed at his arrival, Martin invited the officer in and sat him down in the living room.

"If you'll excuse me for just one minute," Martin stammered, "I need to just turn something off on the stove. I don't want an overflowing pot interrupting us. Be right back!" And he very calmly rushed from the room.

Balsam knew how to recognize a man with something to hide, but he decided he wouldn't pursue it just yet. Still... Keeping an eye on the kitchen door, which still swung silently on its well-oiled hinges, he quickly retreived a miniscule device from his inside coat pocket and carefully placed it underneath the coffee table in front of him. Tapping it twice, it whined softly and fell silent.

At that moment, Martin strolled back into the living room, looking more (but not perfectly) relaxed. "So what can I do for you Officer," he asked, wiping his wet hands on his jeans.

Balsam looked up slightly from his chair, smiling slightly. He was going to enjoying playing on this man's fears. It was one of the perks of the job, as far as he was concerned. He pulled the notepad from his pocket and purred, "So... Have you ever heard of Luiz Ayala?"

"I'm sorry... who?" Martin's blank stare was well rehearsed and sat on his face like an old relative. "I'm afraid I don't know that name."

"Luiz Ayala. The Fuscia Menace as he's know in other circles. Heard of him?" Balsam's pen sat at attention on the notepad, anxious to record what Balsam wanted to hear.

"Nope... Fuscia Menace? Is that a nickname?" Martin chuckled lightly. "I don't think I'd want other people to call me that, in any circle!"

"Very well," Balsam jotted a few notes down. "How about Andrea Robinson? Isn't she a friend of yours?"

"Andrea, yes. She's an old friend of mine from my school days. I just saw her today. Is she is some kind of trouble?" Martin fidgetted with his sleeves absentmindedly.

"No, no," Balsam smiled reassuringly. "We're just following up on a few leads for a case. I'm afraid I can't really talk about it to much right now, you understand." Martin nodded that he did.

"So... let me just check this for a second," Balsam flipped the back pages of his notebook. "What do you know about the Horrap's Collective Project."

At these words, a strange transformation overtook Martin. It looked like he was having a battle with himself. Although he tried to look calm, yet slightly confused, his body went rigid for a moment. A flash of panic crossed his eyes, but he said nothing.

Right then, Balsam knew he had him. He knew he had found his connection. Now... how would he best exploit it?