Watching the police on TV give a press conference about the school shooting, it became evident that soon, the police would be showing up at my home. I had reported my car stolen, but they had questions. Especially if the dungeon monster was still using it. Had they driven my car to the scene of their crimes?

Nothing to do right now. I considered preemptively going to the police station to answer questions. That would probably be an excellent idea. Plus, I needed a new car.

"I'm gonna head out," Gwen said.

"I'll go with you. Mind dropping me off at a police station?"

"Sure, Randy. You coming, Annie? "Gwen said.

"Naw, I thought I would go back in a couple times with Sid and Em. If they don't mind giving me a walk-through."

Like Abed from Sid's favorite show, Sid said, "Sure, Sure, Sure." So it looked like Annie would be power-leveling while I was away.

Gwen and I got into her car, a Mustang GT convertible with a faint new car smell holding on. I was ready to give her directions to the police station nearest me, but she had already found it in her car's GPS.

Gwen let me off at the police station. I was about to go in when I had a thought, so I sat down on a public bench outside the station and called the Lawyer I had used after my wife's death to deal with the insurance company.

Sarah, the law firm's receptionist, answered. "Hey Sarah, it's Randy Luster. Your firm helped me out a lot last year. I was wondering if Bob was available?"

"He's in a meeting with a client. Can I get him to call you back?" Sarah replied.

Having him call me back probably wouldn't work since I was already sitting in front of a police station. "How long do you think he is going to be. I'm currently sitting in front of a police station, and I will probably need legal help pretty soon."

"Oh. Our firm mostly does Insurance, probate, and property law. If this isn't some sort of property dispute, you are probably looking for an attorney specializing in criminal law."

"Yeah, I had a suspicion about that. Can you make a recommendation?"

"We frequently refer our clients to the firm on the 6th floor. Cummings & Cockburn. They are good people. Their number is 555…" a number which I quickly wrote down and dialed.

"Hello, Cummings and Cockburn; how can I help you."

"Ackerby and Associates gave me your number. I am currently sitting in front of the police station off U.S. 19. I figured that it would make sense to have legal representation before I went in. Do you have an associate you can send over?"

"Certainly, we will need you to pay a retainer; after that, Frank Cummings Jr. should be over immediately. That station is just down the street. Should I let him know if you're in serious trouble?"

I thought about it for a few seconds. I had done nothing wrong. That said, I knew the portrayal of police on TV cop shows — of diligent detectives rejecting the apparent answer and probing for more profound answers — was fiction. Cops, in my admittedly limited experience, were prone to jumping to conclusions and following the path of least resistance. (I based this on the day I almost got shot when a swat team had gone to the wrong address and kicked in 21a Woodling Lane instead of 21b Woodling Lane.) This was the reason I was hiring a lawyer, after all.

Finally, I answered, "I'm not sure. Tell Mr. Cummings that my car was stolen a couple days ago. I reported this theft to the police and my Insurance. But about half an hour ago, I saw the thief on Television as part of that school shooting. I don't think I've done anything wrong, but I want to avoid any investigations and finger-pointing."

"Okay." The receptionist said. "I will let Frank know. If you wouldn't mind putting a deposit for the retainer immediately, we take all the major credit cards."

I gave her the numbers for my VISA, and after the charge went through, the receptionist said, "Frank will be right over. Hold tight, and don't talk with anyone until he gets there."

It was a sunny day. There was a pleasant breeze blowing in off the Ocean. The station was located in a busy part of the suburban sprawl. U.S. 19 hugged the Florida coast up to Georgia and beyond. I'd driven down that street once with my wife after renting a vacation cottage in Alabama for a month. We'd stopped off in Crystal River to swim with the manatees. It still hurts remembering those days.

About an hour and a half later, when I was thinking about going in on my own, a guy who looked like he was just out of law school dressed in a suit walked over to him. "Randy?"

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"Mr. Cummings?"

"Call me Frank. Mr. Cummings is my dad. Sorry, I'm late. I wanted to catch up with the latest about what was going on with the school shooting situation, and the sheriff in charge of the situation in Kansas gave a press conference just before I came over. I got what you told Kelsey, our receptionist, but I want to hear things from you before we go in."

"I gave my credit card to the woman on the phone. And paid your retainer, so you have to keep things confidential. Right"

"Yes, Attorney-Client privilege. But I'll tell you upfront that if you had anything to do with killing those children, our law firm will refund you your retainer, except for the billable hours I spend prepping for this meeting. I can recommend someone who would be happy to help you, but child killers aren't the type of cases our firm wants to represent as clients."

"No, nothing like that." And I then told him everything, including the Dungeon in my guest room. I tried not to hold anything back. But I did stress that I wanted to keep the dungeon portal a secret, and I didn't want the police snooping around.

"Well, this is certainly a new one for me. Okay. If that is everything, I think we should go in."

We walked into the police station.

The same desk sergeant from before was on duty. She recognized me right away. "The jokester again. My day is complete."

My Lawyer had told me to stay silent except when he told me to speak, so he talked to the Desk Sergeant. "My client, Mr. Luster, has some information about a currently active case and would like to speak with a detective if one is available. I represent the law firm, Cummings and Cockburn. Would you like to see my bar card?"

"That won't be necessary. Your father is a constant pain in our ass. I will call up for a detective. Would you mind having a seat?"

About ten minutes later, my Lawyer and I were escorted to a featureless mirrored room. The temperature was a little too high. The old fluorescent lighting made the room claustrophobic, and the hum of the tubes set his teeth on edge.

When the Detective on duty came in and sat down, he said, "I'm Detective Laufferty. Just so you know, this interview is being recorded. So, what brings you in today? You mentioned you had information on an active case to the desk, Sargent."

Frank looked over at me and said, "I just want to emphasize that my client came in voluntarily and has done nothing wrong." He turned and looked at me. "Go ahead, Randy. Tell them everything you told me. I will do my best to make sure your rights are protected."

"You sure? Everything" I asked

He nodded. "If you leave stuff out, they will assume you are trying to cover things up and assume you are more involved than you actually are. They will then try to prove things. And let their imaginations run wild. So just tell them everything. If you've been honest with me, you have nothing to worry about."

So, I started to explain the Dungeon in my guest room. Then I brought up the Dungeon monster in the suit and top hat who had come out of it and how it had stolen my car. I pulled out my phone and showed the police the Ring video of the Monster coming out of my house, insulting my Karen neighbor, and then getting into my car and driving away.

Lastly, I mentioned that the same dungeon monster was the being who was responsible for the school shooting that was currently being broadcast on TV.

When I was done, the Detective looked at me and said, "This was incredibly irresponsible. I have to make some calls. Stay put. I'm sure the Tampa branch of the FBI will want to talk to you." And he got up and left the room.

My Lawyer and I sat silently for around twenty minutes when I got an instant message prompt from my System. It was Sid.

"Dude. The Florida National Guard just showed up and kicked us out of your Condo. Gwen is with them, but she won't speak with us. Not even to Annie."

"What the fuck?" I said it aloud and also texted it to Sid.

Frank, the Lawyer, looked over at me. "Anything I should know about?

"The Florida National Guard just seized my condo," I told him. "My friends were hanging out there and claim that DeScumbag's jackbooted thugs came over and kicked them out. Wait a second, my buddy Sid said a girl I know is with the Government Storm Troopers."

I sent a text to Gwen, "You brought goons?"

Gwen texted me back right away. "When I got home, I mentioned your secret to my dad. He agreed that your discovery was just a little too important for someone as irresponsible as you to control. He contacted an ex-student he'd stayed friendly with who works in the Florida Legislature, and they took possession of the title to your house."

"You Bitch!" I texted to Gwen. "You can't do this."

"Can they do this?" I asked my Lawyer after explaining what was going on.

"You live in a Condo, correct? Technically, they can. The laws about seizing a condo are pretty flexible. It would be different if you lived in a Private home. But a condo can kick you out, regardless of ownership, for things as varied as not paying condo fees or storing dangerous or illegal items. Usually, they must give notice, but I suppose this is a special situation."

"I can't hire your firm to get my property rights back. Or at least let me keep my Mystical Rights. Is that a thing yet?"

"I can head over there, but you are still in interrogation. Or I can let my firm know what is happening, and they can send my Dad or some other Partner over. I'm not sure what he can do in a situation like this. You will probably need a much bigger law firm -- off hand I can't think of anyone in Tampa with the experience. Maybe in Tallahassee. My Dad would know. And I can't see this case costing you anything less than a couple million bucks. No guarantee of winning. You might luck out and find someone to take it pro bono because this is precedent-setting. Who knows. But yeah, I can have someone from my firm head over and muddy the waters for a little while. Filing an injunction should halt things for a couple days at least."

Frank left the interrogation room. I sat alone under the buzzing fluorescent lighting for a little while. The Detective came back in with a guy in a black suit. "Mr. Luster, this is Special Agent Smithfield. Who would like to ask you a few questions."

I held up my hand. "Wait until my Lawyer gets back."

"You don't really need him. You aren't under arrest or a suspect of anything." The Detective replied.

"I'm sure that's what you say to all the innocent people you put in jail. If you don't mind, I would rather speak in the presence of an attorney."

A few minutes, which seemed like an eternity, went by, and then Frank returned to the room. "I let the firm know what is happening, and my Dad is heading to your place right now."

I sighed in relief and began explaining what had happened this time with the FBI asking questions.