JohnFareham walked over to the station and pasted something;

To: JamesBaxter
From: LiquidFarehamJr
Sent: Jan 31, '23 14:53
Subject:

An official statement is being made soon.  You Kuku killing days are almost over, pal.

Keep the million.

Was this a threat?  No.  It wasn't.  But JamesBaxter, a man who cannot fight his own battles, pretended it was.  And a good man lay dead.

This town was growing a bit odd at the moment. I shouldn’t have been surprised. With the loud mouth sprinkling these papers, I chuckled to myself as I picked one up before crumpling it and tossing it away, the other odd fellows were going to come out of the woodwork.

They fell under that same inconsequential umbrella, though. Not worth the time or effort.

I paused at the ticket window, sliding a few bills over the countertop before accepting my ticket with a smile. There was still much to be done, especially if I was going to have a tail now.

It was, what it was at this point.

I stashed the briefcase underneath the seat as I sat, tossing my duffel bag beside me. Hopefully it was going to be a quiet ride.

Ian stepped off the train, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of Michigan Central Station. As a resident of Corktown, he had grown up with the station as a constant presence in his life. He had watched as it weathered the devastating fire and the Great Depression, and yet it still stood tall and proud, a symbol of the strength and resilience of his community.

The grandeur of the thirteen-story office tower and the two mezzanine levels never failed to amaze him. He knew that the architects behind the design were the same ones who had brought Grand Central Station in New York to life, and he felt a sense of pride that his city had such a stunning landmark.

As Ian walked through the station, he was struck by the bustling activity around him. Trains coming and going from New York, Chicago, Baltimore, and numerous cities in Canada, including Toronto and Montreal. The station was a vital hub of activity, connecting his community to the rest of the world.

And yet, Ian knew that there was so much potential still untapped. The plans for the boulevard leading to the Cultural Center had been stalled for years, but he remained hopeful that they would eventually come to fruition. He knew that Michigan Central Station had the potential to be even more than it already was, a vibrant center of activity and culture in his beloved city of Detroit.

As Ian stepped out of the station and into the sunshine, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pride for his community and the remarkable landmark that had become such an integral part of his life.

The deal in Chicago had been lucrative enough that Oliver decided to make a swing through Detroit on his way back home to the desert. With any luck, he could find a deal or two out here as well. There were still some contacts that could be pressed for information if need be.

Oliver made a point of traveling with as little as possible. The less stuff that he had to drag around, the better. It made it easy to grab his bag and go as soon as the train squealed to a stop.

The sun was shining brightly as he stepped onto the platform, the early spring breeze bringing a slight warmth rather than the bitter cold not too far away in Chicago.

Rummaging in his pocket for a moment, Oliver pulled out a coin as he made his way over to the row of pay phones.