“Mr. Plutt, sir!”“What is it?” he replied, turning to find one of his security officers.“An unauthorized ship has landed in your shipyard. ...he pilot says he’s here to see you. He says he has something you want.”“Hmm,” Plutt said, rubbing his large, bulbous chin. “Bring him in.”“Yes sir.”The guards soon brought forth a young man of about twenty-five. His shaggy, sandy-brown hair was quite unkempt, extending almost to his jawline. This combined with his rough beard to create a rather crazed. The Castle Manor Inn, on Essex Ave. was a sprawling Victorian era building. It had once been a nearly palatial home for an obviously very wealthy family. Now it was an expensive bed and breakfast for people with too much fucking money. The entire place absolutely reeked of pretentiousness, and entitlement. Seemed like the exact kind of place I’d expect a scumbag like Caplain to enjoy while he was choking and beating a girl half to death. It didn’t take me long, standing in the trees across. More

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