The book didn't disappoint. Chuck opened it and read through the pages.

This one is much closer to your wheelhouse, as you already have many requisite skills. And it doesn't require you to weave any baskets!

"Ha ha," Chuck said. "It looks like my magic book has a sense of humor."

As Chuck read, he started to get a better sense of his powers. When he'd tried to make a dimensional portal to store his book, he was told he needed to start by weaving baskets, then build a backpack, and then a suitcase. However, now that he was trying to build a tracker, he didn't need to display proficiency in the base skills since he was already proficient in coding and writing software. Instead, he could jump right into it.

Still, the code the book gave Chuck was as close to magic as he could've imagined, as it wasn't something he could've written on his own. The book even helped them get an accurate picture of Stitz, asking questions like a forensic artist and revising its sketches until Meg jammed a finger at the page and yelled, "That's it! That's him exactly!"

From there, it was a simple matter of taking a picture of the picture and running it through Chuck's facial recognition software, which is when two exciting things happened. First, they found Stitz. There were numerous pictures of him from different cameras in a neighborhood called Polish Hill; he appeared to frequent a dive bar called Gooski's.

"I know that place," Meg said. "One of the bartenders there owes me a favor--he was a minor player in one of the rings I busted last year and I let him walk. He goes by the name Buddy. Let's go tomorrow... they're open now, but they'll be busy. If we want him to talk, we'll need to catch him when it's quiet."

But Chuck was distracted by the second exciting thing. As soon as the first picture of Stitz in Polish Hill had appeared on his computer, one of the blank pages of his open book started filling with text. Quickly, he turned away from the computer and read what it had to say.

Congratulations! You've completed Level 3: Tracking Software. You can now access Level 4: Magical Tracking.

Level 4: Magical Tracking - Minor. Get within 50 yards of a target you want to track and an arrow will show you the way. Arrow will be invisible to everyone except you. Completed: 0/100.

Next Level. Level 5: Magical Tracking - Major. Get within 1,000 yards of a target you want to track and an arrow will show you the way. Arrow will be invisible to everyone except you. Completed: 0/250.

And no, Chuck, you can't just say you're trying to find Meg or Monster and get credit toward completion. You actually have to display proficiency in the skill to advance.

It was more insight into how his power worked. Chuck didn't know how 'proficiency' was defined, though the book seemed strict about ensuring it was exhibited. It also seemed to be more of de facto definition than something hard and fast, which meant he couldn't take any shortcuts.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

The next day, Chuck and Meg prepared for their trip. Since the bar was a fifteen-minute drive and Chuck wasn't prepared to reveal Monster to the world, he and Meg left the dog behind. Monster protested until Chuck gave him a bone, at which point he settled down and agreed to stay in the house, not open the door for strangers, and refrain from eating anything in the fridge.

"A talking dog with fur he can shape into hands is going to cause some... trouble," Meg said as they caught the bus to Polish Hill.

Chuck thought about asking the book to help but didn't think it'd come up with anything useful. "Something to figure out later," he said.

At night, Gooski's attracted the kind of punks who wore leather jackets and spiked chokers, rode motorcycles, and smoked cigarettes inside. At this hour, the locals were at work or sleeping, but Chuck was still nervous. Even though they weren't dressed in costume, this was his first mission in the field. Before they entered through the metal door plastered with enough band stickers to cover the inside of his treehouse, he took several hits of Max Relax vapor, and only then did his anxiety settle down.

"Just let me do the talking," Meg said. "You'll be fine. Oh! If anyone starts shooting, hit the deck."

"Shooting?" Chuck said. "Why would there be shooting?" But Meg had already pushed inside.

Inside, the place looked exactly like Chuck had imagined: mirrored bar, worn seats with torn upholstery, menu scrawled in barely legible script on an old chalkboard. In one corner was a jukebox, and the whole place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes.

A single person stood behind the bar, drying glasses that he pulled out of a dishwasher. "Hey there, Buddy!" Meg called, giving him a friendly wave.

Buddy was built like a coat rack, his thin frame draped with a t-shirt for a local company called "A+ Plumbing." He was probably in his forties, with long, greasy hair turned prematurely gray and a handlebar mustache stained brown by tobacco. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. He took one look at Meg and shook his head. "We don't serve minors here," he said. He pointed to the door. "Get out."

Meg ignored him, stepping up to the bar and sitting on one of the stools. "That's funny. I said those same words to you before the cops came back on Natrona Way. But I'd hate to put your liquor license in jeopardy. So tell me what I want to know, and we'll go. Where can I find Stitz?"

Buddy didn't answer but also didn't reach for the bat Chuck saw leaning against a cooler below the backbar.

"Buddy? You awake back there? Where's Stitz?"

"He's not here," Buddy grunted. "Now get out. I really don't want to hurt any kids."

At that moment, Chuck heard the creak of a door. It hadn't come from the front of the bar but the back, down the hallway that led from the doorway beside the jukebox. Suddenly, a bright yellow arrow appeared before him, and it was so unexpected that he tried to swat it away before remembering the words he'd seen in the book: 'Get within 50 yards of a target you want to track and an arrow will show you the way. Arrow will be invisible to everyone except you.'

Buddy reached for the bat but Meg was already moving, vaulting over the bar and wrapping her arms around his waist to prevent him from bringing the weapon to bear. Although Buddy was taller than her, she was stronger--and better trained. As they wrestled, Chuck wanted to help, but he didn't know what to do. Also, he was paralyzed with fear.

A moment later, it didn't matter. Meg and Buddy froze as a voice rang out from down the hallway. "Hey Buddy, I want to order a plate of those pierogis! No-- barbecue boneless wings. Actually... yeah, pierogis! Make it quick, man. I'm starving here."

Slowly, Meg let Buddy go. "Who's that?" she asked. Although she was talking to Buddy, Chuck responded, the answer having been made clear to him by the arrow.

"That's Stitz."