ASC woke at 7:30am like he did every morning. He got out of bed and stretched, fixing his sky blue pyjamas to preserve his modesty, before slipping on his brown leather slippers. Crossing to his credenza, he put on his dark blue silk robe, and tied it securely with the gold tasselled cord. It was only then, secure in the knowledge that Mrs Butterworth across the road could not be offended, he drew back the curtain, allowing the morning light to spill into the plain, yet well appointed bedroom, and drive the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. Picking up his steel rimmed glasses, he put them on and slicked back his hair, ensuring that he was at least, semi well presented should he have to greet someone at the door.

Going downstairs, he unlocked the heavy front door, and stepped out onto the porch. the Suburban street was coming alive, and children were already spilling out onto the streets to play. Walking down to the bottom of his garden path, he collected his mail, and the morning paper. Pausing a moment to look at the headlines:

Jordan's king loses throne,

others 'nervous in service'

The shifting sands of near and mid-east politics have cost another monarch his throne.

Jordan's mentally-ailing King Talal has been tossed out and his 17-year-old son proclaimed King Hussein II. A three-man regency will rule until the new monarch comes of age next May.

Always a hotbed of intrigue the Middle East, thought ASC, as he folded the paper up and tucked it under his arm. Looking up, he could see Mrs Butterworth Kneeling by her door, glaring at him while furiously polishing her knob. The 50 something widow had ideas well above her station, no doubt beaten into her over the span of her almost 50 year marriage, before her husband had been 'tragically' taken from her last fall in a leaf blowing accident.

Smiling warmly, ASC raised his hand and waved, "Good Morning Mrs Butterworth."

She merely harrumphed at him, stood, went inside and slammed her door, leaving her knob only half polished. She didn't agree with gentlemen addressing a lady in their bed clothes, it was not something that Mr Butterworth would have done. ASC believed that Mr Butterworth probably looked for any excuse to not to have to address Mrs Butterworth. The Smile falling from his face, ASC shook his head in bewilderment and turned to go inside, quietly closing the front door behind him.

Entering the kitchen, he placed the paper on the edge of the table, and stacked the mail beside it. He approached the kitchen window and raised the roller shade to properly illuminate the room. He filled the kettle and placed it on the gas ring of the cooker, lighting it with an oversized Cook's Match from a box on the small shelf above the cooker. He also turned on the grill and lit it, before blowing out the match and leaving it on a small ceramic plate on the kitchen counter that he kept there for just such an eventuality, thin wisps of smoke curling up from the extinguished end as it nestled with its spent brothers. From there, ASC busied himself with preparing his breakfast. 2 rounds of bread, toasted on one side, with butter and thick cut Seville marmalade. Lifting down his tea caddy, he placed a spoonful of Assam, 1/2 of Ceylon, 1 of Kenyan and a 1/2 of Keemun tea in the pot, before pouring on boiling water from the now whistling kettle. He set the pot on the table to stew, while he turned off the cooker and lifted his plate and cup before sitting down. He added a small amount of milk to the fine china cup, and a single cube of sugar, while he waited for the tea to stew appropriately. Ordinarily you should never place the milk into the cup first, but given that this was his mother's fine bone china tea service, he was aware that the thermal shock of placing hot tea into an empty cup could crack the glaze, or worse, damage the porcelain itself. 

Taking a bite of his toast, he returned the piece to the plate, before pouring the tea, and using his spoon to waft the liquid back and forward in the cup. He would not stir his tea like some kind of barbarian. He was sure the newly Crowned Britannic Majesty Queen Elizabeth II did not stir her tea, nor would she clink the spoon on the edge of the cup like some Yank making coffee. He set his spoon on the saucer and lifted the cup, smelling the delicate aroma of "English breakfast tea" before taking a sip and retuning the cup. Lifting the mail, he started to sort it. Electric Bill, Phone Bill, Tax demand from the Mayor, letter from his Aunt Mable in Torquey, Mable being his Father's Sister, who was fast approaching 90 years of age, and seemed to show no sign of slowing down. She had worked as a Nursing Auxiliary during the Great War, and had even tried to volunteer again to go to the front lines to fight the Hun when Hitler had kicked off that whole sorry mess in '39. He recognised her spidery writing instantly, not to mention the 9d's worth of Royal Mail Postage stamps adorned with the new Queen's head, and the Torquey post mark. The New Queen was certainly a fine looking woman. The final letter was from the First Bank of Nevada, the FBN, at least he assumed it was the First bank of Nevada. Intrigued he opened the Letter and began to read. Apparently it wasn't from the First Bank of Nevada after all.

US Department of Justice

UNITED STATES ATTORNEY

EASTERN DISTRICT OF NEW YORK

22nd August 1952

Dear Mr <font color="#FFFFFF" face="verdana" size="1"></font>, (I redacted my real name as you lot are criminals and god knows what you would do with it if you knew it)

             The Office of the United States Attorney considers you a target of a criminal investigation of your conduct relating to conspiracy to commit Embezzlement, Money laundering, Drug Dealing, Prostitution, Murder, Smuggling, Aiding and Abetting Aliens to Illegally enter the United States, Racketeering, Counterfeiting, Bribery, Gambling, kidnapping, extortion, arson, robbery, disseminating obscene matter and Embezzlement, Money laundering, Drug Dealing, Prostitution, Murder, Smuggling, Aiding and Abetting Aliens to Illegally enter the United States, Racketeering, Counterfeiting, Bribery, Gambling, kidnapping, extortion, arson, robbery, disseminating obscene matter in violation of 18 U.S.C. §§ 1343 & 1349 as well as 18 U.S.C. § 1951. The matter has been referred to this Office for prosecution by the Federal Bureau of Narcotics Investigation and Local Law Enforcement.

             This Office is preparing to present the evidence to a federal grand jury and to ask for an indictment. If you would like to resolve this matter before an indictment and the possible issuance of an arrest warrant, please have an attorney representing you contact me before 5pm, 25th August 1952.

              If you believe that you cannot afford an attorney, but would like one to assist you with this matter, please complete the form below the line "Answers to questions regarding ability to pay" and return the original form with your signature to me at the address at the top of this letter. If I receive the form from you before 5pm, 25th August, I will submit it to the Clerk of Court for the court to determine whether you would qualify for an appointed attorney.

Sincerely,

Frank J. Parker

U.S. Attorney

​​​​​​​Well, that was a strange letter to receive. At first ASC thought that this must be a prank of some sort, but the letterhead and watermark looked genuine, and who would perpetrate such a folly, and not even anywhere near the 1st of April? He wasn't involved in all this criminality, he didn't even know any criminals. sure he had some business dealings, his good friend @ImportantBusinessman had set him up with a nice portfolio of business interests. Actually that wasn't completely true, he had never met IB, hadn't even seen him across the room, that nice Mr Ian, the follicly challenged gentleman with the penchant for figure skating had asked him to set up the businesses and the details had all arrived via mail. Rising from the table, letter in hand, ASC went to his writing desk, Toast and Tea all but forgotten. He opened the box of good stationery, and began to write. 

Dear Mr Parker,

Thank you for your correspondence dated 22nd August. I would very much like an opportunity to sort out this dreadful matter before an indictment or the issuance of an arrest warrant. Straight after this, i intend to go out and hire myself the best attorney i can find, perhaps that J Michael Haller fellow, or Harvey Specter. However, given the tight time constraints you have placed upon me, I have decided to contact you first to state my intentions.

I wholeheartedly refute these scurrilous allegations, for I am but a simple civilian. Whilst it is true that I do have a strong portfolio of business interests, I assure you these are all legitimate and above board. It is true that I have numerous people in my employ, most notably a Ms Revelation and Mr EddieFelson I assure you that we are on the Up and Up as I have heard it described. I am their Civilian Leader (CL) she is my Remedial Household Maintenance Technician (RHM) and he is my Licence Homeopathic Medic (LHM). I do also run a business called Detroit Filo Pastry (DFP), supplier of pies and pastries to many stores on the Eastern Seaboard. The Only thing criminal about my enterprise is that the prices are so low. So you can see, this has all been a terrible mistake on behalf of the FBN, interesting story, I actually thought they were the First Bank of Nevada, and I apologise for wasting your time. 

Please look forward to hearing from my Attorney in short order, and if you need anything else in the meantime, well you know my address apparently.

Yours Sincerely,

                             (You didn't think i would forget to redact my name again, did you?)

Sealing the letter in an envelope and writing the address of Mr Parker on the front, ASC took it into the kitchen, and set it on the table. Taking another bite of his now cold and sodden toast, he gulped down the cold tea and hurried off to get washed and changed for what was shaping up to be yet another very strange day.

Revelation had been searching high and low for well over two weeks for the voice who echoed in her head. She knew it was not a dream. Finally, finding her way to where ASC was expressing his concerns about the FBN she knew immediately what the confusion could possibly be. Now I could be wrong but a simple civilian such as ASC is nothing more than a fly by night type of guy. (FBN) It is apparent there is some sort of mixed signals being sent to him. 

Revelation comes out of cunt mode and is pleased to announce as the Human Resouces Mediation (RHM) there has been a bit of confusion. Rev takes a moment to think about her next thoughts.

Her mind racing, she takes a swig of her red wine. Feeling so fine and like a million dollars Rev lobut I was oks around and sees a tad bit of curiosity.

Rev looks around at the small crowd and slowly and carefully ponders her next thoughts. 

I was a rescue who was dumped and discarded like a piece of trash in Yorkshire. 

Revelation, Yorkshire is in England  Right?

TheStranger’s eyes, hidden under the shadows afforded to his upper-face by the brim of his fedora hat, gaze across the city skyline. He looks up at the rooftops of the row homes, each chimney stack billowing smoke from it. This is what TheStranger liked to see. It was an indication that his coal smuggling operation was paying off. More stoves meant more coal, and that’s where TheStranger comes in.
 

His operation was a simple enough one, a fleet of trucks were sent to the coal mines in Maryland, loaded to max capacity, then turned around for the long trip back west to New York. And here’s the best part…. if the police were to stop any of his trucks, all they would find is coal, which is not illegal, making his coal smuggling operation one of the safest rackets in his arsenal of criminal enterprises. He would buy the coal cheap in Maryland, then sell it at a profit in New York. It was a lucrative trade and one that was paying dividends, as was obvious by the billowing chimney smoke.
 

TheStranger’s eyes, still hidden underneath the brim of his fedora, drop from his rooftop gaze to a small crowd that had gathered on the street. He peered out at the crowd, and pulled a hold zippo lighter from his breast pocket and lit a cigarette. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, much like the rooftop chimneys above them, and studied the small crowd of people

“What do we here?” he said