[b]"You hear that tosser on the telly? He wants to fight a ghost story for chrissakes!"[/b] [b]"Yeah, must think he's hot shit eh? Saw the TV studio in a mess as well, was helping old No Knob pack up the Gem Store on the corner, paid well but I heard this god-awful music comin' from one of the vans goin' by. People need taste in music again."[/b] Two grunts converse, their voices like gravel and their smell as good as a rubbish tip. [i]No knob? Is that a nickname you want on your criminal record? Maybe old Greg got them, ah good times with this beauty. Ah hell time to go into action.[/i] 

[color=1b1464][b]"Ey lads, what is this of a van with bad music leavin' an area of death?."[/b][/color] The Tempest groans, mocking the two criminals as they turned to get a close shave from the Cult Classic. The room itself is a ground floor living room, open window with boxes around a sofa and TV set playing a repeat of some reality show. The only other thing of interest is a walk-in cupboard-like alcove. 

[b]"Who the fuck are you?!"[/b] The first victim of the Tempest hollers in surprise and fear, his bald head quivering. [b]"You don't know him?! Heard of the Knifeman? He slaughtered Big Little Hemmy in the Blood Red Exhibition! What is it?!"[/b] The second thug whimpers in a terrified quiver, a face of emotion and a shaking body. [color=1b1464][b]"Did you not hear me? Oh you pathetic little things, I asked about the van that played music, I also want to know more of this No Knob."[/b][/color] The Tempest taunts, nutting the first sod with a swift knee, which forces the target on his knees in a sobbing growl of pain. [b]"It was a van I think, decent enough thing... Oh my... How much for the..."[/b] The slightly wittier second thug realizes, being cut short on his negotiation with another low kick. [b]"Tell me now, and you'll live, don't and I'll get the information my own special way."[/b] The Tempest demands, a hint of boredom in his voice as the masked bloke begins fiddling about with the butterfly knife, putting the Cult Classic away carefully. 

[b]"The van might've had the telly bloke in it! No Knob... She's a new gang leader, pays well in... ye needn't worry about where but she's striking crystals, thinks they'll go up in price or somethin' 'bout economics... Just please let me go!"[/b] The criminal begs, crying on the beer-stained carpet. [color=1b1464][b]"Both of you enter the cupboard now. Chop chop!"[/b][/color] The Tempest encourages, booting the first bloke to the nearby cupboard alcove. The unwilling captives obeyed, as soon as the door locked the Tempest drags two stacks of boxes down from the sides of the alcove down, trapping the two inside. Then the Tempest proceeds to go through the small flat, taking anything of value before calling the police with a knock-off phone made in Mongolia to mimic a popular brand. With the police called the Tempest escapes by the front door. 

After a few hours spent gathering more information on No Knob Sarah Hamish retires to his normal life. At midday the antiques dealer is sitting in a pleasant park, one short mile away from the alley of conflict between the three vigilantes a while ago, behind the park is a known auction house and hall, where at two o'clock in the afternoon there will be an auction on antique knives. [i]So, the money's in the sales account, there should be some real bargains in there if it's locals, hope they haven't spoken with a professional yet or that's a steal gone instantly.[/i] Hamish thinks to himself, getting used to the new crisp cream suit and hat he bought a few days ago and is now wearing.