"My pay cheque correlates to my ability to turn away unwanted elements of society. And I am paid handsomely." Stalwart rested his cane handle on his arm and tilted his Fedora hat slightly so that he could glance up at the blue-suited brute before him. The thug stood a foot taller than Stalwart and boasted an extra 30 percent mass. Stalwart read his name tag. "Mr. Flog, is it?" Stalwart squinted at the badge for effect. "Or is that misspelt? Frog? Fog? Plog, perhaps? No, no, I can't imagine any self-respecting man adopting any of those monikers. Don't tell me your parents came up with that one?" Flog stretched to his full height and drew a fist. "Do not push me, little man." "You're right. There's something unsavoury about harassing the stupid," Stalwart said. Flog took a step forward. Stalwart sidestepped his blurred fist. Overcommitting, Flog staggered forward. Before he recovered to strike again, he felt the barrel of Stalwart's pistol pressed to his chest. "One more time, Flog. I am going to see Malrick Polanski by badge or bullet. Your choice." "What did you say your business was?" Flog asked. "Malrick Polanski is a suspect in a serious crime. If he's done nothing wrong, he has nothing to fear." Stalwart locked eyes with the man. "Your lack of cooperation suggests he has reason to fear." "Let the man in, Flog. I fear nobody," Malrick Polanski called from inside the room. He laughed maniacally. Stalwart slipped past Flog and holstered his firearm. "Sounds like the man on the door is somewhat redundant." Malrick Polanski stood, hands on hips, grinning broadly in blue-striped pyjamas. His clownish appearance contrasted with the opulent furnishings, sparkling tiles, and array of greenery decorating the large room. "You will forgive Mr. Foggerty his enthusiasm. Between spiteful and grovelling employees, zealous foot merchants, and unscrupulous media, you'd be surprised to what lengths people will go to get as far as you did. It's really quite amusing." Flog pointed at Stalwart. "Sir, I do not believe it is appropriate for you to entertain guests at this time." "Oh, but I'm so curious, Flog. Aren't you curious, too?" Polanski beamed and strode towards Stalwart. "Of what serious crime am I a suspect?" - Petty fraud, scorned lovers, and stray cats - a private investigator's bread-and-butter on the bleak planet of Reef. Ardon Stalwart escaped his industry's monotony by forging a reputation for tracking elusive criminals. In his home colony, Terrus Centralis, Stalwart's business is booming. A vulgar clay statue was stolen from a traveling exhibit dedicated to a recently deceased artist. The case was right up Stalwart's alley ... the intrigue of a mysterious theft, the enticing profit margin, and the promise of a job devoid of stinging face slap endings and clunky elbowing through cramped, fur-lined ventilation shafts. But the seemingly innocuous statue Stalwart seeks has garnered the attention of multiple entities determined to shut him down. Pushed to the brink and not knowing who to trust, Stalwart's small, proficient team pit their intellect, courage and technological prowess against some of the most powerful and sinister individuals to inhabit the massive cities buried within the inhospitable planet. The deeper Stalwart digs within himself as he fights to survive, the less he likes what he finds. Reef's darkest secrets were never meant to be unearthed.