by Melan

A few days ago, I received note from a man by the name of Grimy Morgan. I have bought the odd trinket from him before - he is one among the hundreds of workers labouring to keep Bridgeport's electricity supply going, and his kind always finds the most unusual things... Morgan rigs water arrows in his underground lair, and occasionally, he is able to palm the odd piece of wind-up machinery when his superiors aren't looking... and most aren't looking too hard. This time though, he promised something more, a passage he'd discovered below the power junction he works in. Morgan hasn't contacted me again, and I am starting to think he may be looking for other offers, or thinking of getting his hands on whatever's there on his own. So much for gratitude... Whatever this is, he should have learned to keep his mouth shut. My name shall not be Gerald Foxley if I cannot claw my share from his hands - the only question is how much punishment he is prepared to take before paying up...