The air was heavy with solemnity as the crew of the Mandoleer’s Folly stepped into the Literature Department’s building at McGill Educational Centre Orbital Campus. Professors and students alike had gathered in the lobby, where a memorial service for Professor Thomas Calder was being held. Quiet murmurs filled the room as colleagues reminisced about Calder, remembering him as a beloved figure and a pillar in their academic community.
After the service, as the crowd began to disperse, Spacedawg and his team started their inquiries. Each person they spoke to echoed the same sentiment: Calder was a great man, deeply respected and sorely missed. But amidst the grief, a figure caught Spacedawg’s keen eye—a janitor who seemed uneasy, his behavior out of sync with the mournful decorum.
As the service concluded, the janitor, looking visibly nervous, made a hasty exit. Spacedawg, tapping into his enhanced hound senses, whispered to his crew, “Follow me.” They trailed behind the janitor, weaving through the corridors until they found him hiding in a storage room.
“Gotcha,” Spacedawg announced as they entered, startling the janitor who tried to shrink back against the shelves lined with dusty equipment and old books. A quick search of the room revealed several rare books that had been hollowed out, their pages gutted to hide packets of drugs.
“What’s all this?” J.J. Smith
John Jacob Smith is a seasoned police officer from Georgetown, known for his bravery and unique involvement in managing time anomalies. He has become a pivotal figure in handling temporal disturbances, working undercover as Agent 93 for a secretive organization tasked with protecting the temporal integrity of his environment. Early Career and Experiences John Jacob Smith has been a fixture... asked, holding up one of the tampered volumes.
The janitor, a middle-aged man with a look of resignation, shook his head but remained silent. Spacedawg, stern and authoritative, laid out the gravity of his situation. “You’re caught with a significant stash of illegal drugs here. This could land you a life sentence unless you start talking.”
Still, the janitor hesitated. It wasn’t until his lawyer arrived, a quick-talking woman with sharp features, that the atmosphere shifted. She quickly assessed the situation and turned to her client. “You need to cooperate for a reduced sentence. I’ll get you witness protection, but you need to give them something credible.”
Reluctantly, the janitor nodded and began to speak, “I was duped into this. Some guys from the Beacon Hill Devils approached me. They forced me to smuggle these drugs inside the books. I didn’t have a choice.”
“And the murder of Professor Calder?” Spacedawg pressed, needing to know if there was a connection.
The janitor swallowed hard, his face pale. “I didn’t kill anyone. But Calder… he walked in on me and some of the gang members here. They panicked. They called in someone—an assassin they call La Boucherie.”
The revelation sent a chill through the room. Spacedawg exchanged a grave look with his crew. “If your intel checks out, we can strike a deal for your cooperation,” he promised the janitor.
As they secured the janitor and prepared to delve deeper into the gang’s operations, Spacedawg knew they were stepping into even murkier waters. La Boucherie was a name that carried ominous undertones in the underworld—a specter now linked to the tragic death of a respected professor. The investigation was far from over; it was evolving into a hunt for a shadowy assassin, with threads weaving through the dark tapestry of organized crime within the academic sanctum.
