As the night sluggishly went on, the occupants and transients of the Cafe lounge eventually dispersed after conversations, jokes, and suggestions. For the time being, while they had all had their own experience's with nightmares, the information available was simply too small to forge anything beyond imagination. True consideration of the target would have to wait until Cash offered more than an enigmatic description.

Those who didn't call the Cafe their home went their separate ways, disappearing into the upper floor and street outside. The others stayed, retreating into the numerous small, oftentimes windowless bedrooms that riddled the bottom 3 floors of the establishment. Melanie remained upon the couch on the first basement floor, leaving the stained blood couch for cleaning tomorrow; or replacement, if it wouldn't come out. She fell asleep to the thoughts of arcane carpet cleaners.

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The following morning was one of common chaos; with too few bathrooms for the otherwise densely populated building, anger was high as usual. When everyone had gotten ready, they were free to pick from the daily basket of baked goods Melanie would lay out every morning. It wasn't enough for everyone, nor a truly nutritious meal for anyone, but it sufficed in filling the bellies of those who hadn't the time or funds for the day to go out and eat a full breakfast. There were always a few that did, however, and so the basket often lay with one or two biscuits or muffins slowly growing stale by the end of the day.

With work to do, the manager of the building was already on the top floor, tending to patrons of the Cafe alongside whichever part-timer had shown up for the shift. From the basement floor just below, the residents could hear the heavy footfalls of bigger individuals, and the jingle of the bell hanging on the Cafe door.

To the side of the first basement floor, situated above a few old wooden round tables was a white-board. Most of the markings in black sharpie had been there for so long, they effectively became permanent. Old notes that were no longer relevant, along with a minimalist chart of some Cleaner names and their phone numbers or addresses. A star marked those who could provide sanctuary if needed.

Laurence "Cash" Slanne was one such individuals, though any older Cleaner knew well the man preferred his many homes to be a 'last resort' when it came to providing sanctuary. His address was faded but just as permanent as the rest, and marked only his main residence. Melanie had indicated the previous night, after a short exchange with Cash, that said residence was where the group was to meet him. A manor situated in one of the few "Envi-Novel" closed communities; a large-foundation high-rise at the upper reaches of the city, complete with more greenery than was imaginable by Neo Babylon citizens who'd never left the city.

However they managed to get to the place, the Cleaners had a long road ahead of them; the space between Cafe Thaza and the manor was about forty-minutes in length, complete with inevitable traffic once they hit the inner city. Up and down the city layers, onto magnetic freeways, through holes built into buildings... The group converged on the Eni-Novel foundation, visible even from miles away.

Situated between a series of five skyscrapers far and above the rest was a pentagonal concrete structure, like a plate being held atop bricks. Though they couldn't see the top of the foundation from down below, they could certainly tell it would be a bright environment once they got up there. After using a few off-ramps, vehicular elevators, and passing through chic, high-end, and blatantly gentrified streets, they came upon the gates of the Envi-Novel community. Behind the black iron gates was a wide-open series of fields and winding roads, dotted with small groves, parks, and trails. The occasional mansion peeked out from behind a row of well-kept trees.

It would have appeared extremely unguarded for a wealthy community in the current century, but the more perceptive would have noticed an occasional flicker of light just behind the iron gates; a shield, undoubtedly with quite the punch. Each of the Cleaner parties came upon a security checkpoint, already prepared for strange looks from the... robotic guard.

The box-headed robot gave the Cleaners a completely neutral greeting, unperturbed by appearances, thankfully.

"Good-evening ladies and gentlemen. How can I help you? Are you here to see someone?" the robot asked in a rehearsed tone. A mention of Laurence prompted the robot to check a screen just below its vision before nodding and pressing a button. "Indeed. Mister Slanne is expecting quite a bit of company, it seems," the robot continued. The gates in front of the cars lifted, and with it the faintly-visible shield, allowing them passage.

Coursing through the pristine environment, a rolled-down window revealed that the air outside smelled just as perfect. Everything in the Envi-Novel was maintained with comfort in mind, and to eliminate the sense of being surrounded by concrete darkness. Following the street signs, they found their way to Cash's manor which was, perhaps surprisingly, about as big as any other on the premises. Whoever else lived here must have been of equally filthy rich status.

The driveway turned into a dirt path that led up a small hill for the front yard, a place that could easily have fit six cars with room for late-night tire-screeching donut showcases. As the Cleaners all made it there, grouping by grouping, eventually the occupants seemed to take notice of their presence. A butler walked outside briefly, looking out across the driveway at the parked cars, before returning inside.

After a couple minutes, Laurence walked outside with a serious expression upon his face. The business tycoon was all appearances when it came to Cleaner dealings, though most everyone knew well how aloof he could be when it came to free time. He touched something in his suit pocket, hidden inside, before extending a hand to a few of the gathered Cleaners after they exited their cars.

"Morning everyone," he began, stepping back to get a look at all of them. "We'll be staying out here." Cash snapped his finger, and the butler standing a few feet behind him turned heel to fetch something. In the meanwhile, Cash took out a phone and began typing away, speaking in between bouts of texting.

"Sorry I couldn't give you details. This one's strange to say the least. Hard to give you an accurate account unless I can [i]show[/i] you what's going on." He put his phone away, and a tiny, tiny smile escaped his lips. "And whatever you do, don't try this at home." The butler returned with what appeared to be... a simple cardboard box. Albeit a very clean and shapely box, but merely cardboard nonetheless. Under the butler's arm was a folded plastic mat, which he began to lay out on the parking lot while Cash continued watching the group.

With the plastic laid out, the butler set the box down in the middle of it and lifted the lid before waiting. After a minute, another butler appeared from around the manor side, carrying this time... a chicken. A live chicken. The fowl squabbled quietly in his hands, seeming uncaring of being carried across the lot. He approached the cardboard box and set the chicken inside before closing the lid and taping it shut. The bird fit perfectly inside, still clucking in the dark.

"Now then. Let me show you what we're dealing with," Cash said, putting a hand into his suit pocket before pulling out a photograph. From his pen pocket, he pulled out a sharpie and took a knee before the box, carefully looking at the photograph. After a second or two, he began to draw upon the top of the cardboard box, creating a strange symbol none of those gathered had seen before. It was complex, clearly magical, but not any sort of rune they could identify.

Cash paused and took a deep breath before finishing the symbol with one long stroke across the surface. Immediately he stood up and backpedaled, as if having just lit up a firework. For a moment, nothing happened and then...

There was no squawk. No peep. No chirp from the chicken inside. Only a sudden and violent explosion of blood that sprayed through the seams in the cardboard box, caking the plastic mat in dark red. As soon as it was over, a butler approached at a distance and threw a lit match upon the cardboard box, lighting it aflame. Cash watched as it burned before turning to the group.

"Now imagine someone put that on your door."