Prolougue

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198X

Somewhere in the Suburbs of Cawthon City

XX:XX P.M.

Bus Stop # 1987.

Normally when it would be Rush Hour, this bus stop would have patrons lining up as far as three blocks, but tonight, it was just a lonely location, and in that location, sat an elderly man wearing a trench coat and an old Fedora hat, the only thing that gave light was an old lamp post and even then it would blink for a few seconds before returning to normal.

The man shivered as he tightened his coat, "Blasted wind" he thought, "Why did it have to be at this hour and at this location?". Of course said location was just a bus stop, the man that had called him chose an appropriate location, it was the timing that was infuriating him, the mysterious caller should have just called him to meet at his home, but noooo it had to be here.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he heard a faint whistle, really soft if your hearing is only on a normal range,  but not to him, "Toreador March-Carmen Overture. The man indeed has tastes." Indeed it was, for our protagonist, the same tune that keeps calling out to him for a few days now, but it was only yesterday when he finally decided to answer the call.

The man on the bench stood up, cleared his throat and looked to man that had whistled the tune, "I take it you have what I asked for then?"

The man that had whistled stopped, meters away from the only lampost that was giving light to the bus stop, he then took something out of his pocket and gave it to the man that had been waiting for him.

"A handheld phone?" he asked, but before he could be given his answer, the phone rang, of course since he never held something like this before, the man in the shadows helped him on how to use it. Giving his thanks he answers the phone.

"So". a deep voice began, obviously tampered to hide his identity, "Have you thought over.....our little business proposition?"

The man at first tried to analyze what accent his mysterious caller was using, but decided to give up, "Yes, and the answer is no."

"No?" the caller answered back, though he did noticed no anger in the man's tone, simply amusement. 

"Yes." the man answered firmly, "I am not betraying an old friend for some cash." but  just as he was about to hang up,

"I'll quadriple the salary he gives you, plus some bonus to help your child..."

The man silently swore, he shouldn't have answered that damn phone, now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, it was true, his kid was in a coma, and needed an operation, but to betray and old friend? Just for this?

"I'll think about it as I sleep tonight."

"I'll be expecting your answer by tomorrow then, Mr.Summers." the line was cut after that, and the man behind the shadows immediatley took the phone from the now named Mr.Summers from him and placed it inside his coat.

"I take it you're just a messenger then..." the man gave Summers an answer by simply nodding. He shrug at this as he gets his lighter and a cigarette butt and started ighting said butt.

"My employeer also told me to tell you, that he needs to know  everything of what you're about to see, I take it you already know what he meant.."

Summers nodded at this, although that made him curious, how did his employeer know about what Constantine Fredbeare was abou to unveil to them? Before he could ask however, the messenger had disappeared, just in time for the bus to arrive too.

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