You'd think we'd have all the information we'd need by now. Turns out you were wrong. Tim was tirelessly typing away, using all his technical skills to find out who exactly Landra was. I, on the other hand drifted into a deep sleep, while looking up websites that matched the category "The Art of Self-Defense....Online!" The clock struck 5pm and it was time to get off of work. I was drooling on my desk, exhaling Z's out of my lungs. I felt a brisk shove on my shoulder.

"Hey, buddy wake up. It's time to go. Our shift is over," Tim said, awaking me.

"Err, is it over already? Did you find anything?" I asked.

Looking sternly, and cracking his knuckles, Tim said, "While you were dozing off in dream land, I was tirelessly typing away, juggling between my own expose, and your little research project. Unfortunately, I was only able to find out that she lives at 545 Poppyseed Drive. Of course, that's only one match in a batch of 35 more Landra Lawsons in this state. She was the closest. It's kinda hard when you don't have anything to go by except her name."

"Poppyseed Drive? That's all the way in the suburbs! Fifteen miles from here!" I exclaimed in disbelief. Without a car, that's quite a ways to travel.

"I'll have to make a call to Stephen tonight, before we can investigate further."
After our little discussion, Tim and I bid each other farewell, and went our separate ways.

It was approaching darkness. The street lamps brightened the streets, and the entire area. Rush hour was underway, and the streets were packed with gas-sputtering cars, loud honks, and constant cursing from the lips. I was too tired to walk all the way home, so I decided to catch the bus. Even if it did take a while, at least I'd have time to sleep during the ride. So I waited for the next arrival and boarded. I was suprised to see my friend Bernice on the exact same ride, so I went to sit beside her.

"Hey Bernice, how's it going?" I asked.

Looking a bit distraught, and discomforted, she replied, "Things are okay. It's just a bit scary walking home alone at night these days in the city. You know, all the gang-related activities. Have you heard about that one chain-gang, who confronted a whole mob of policeman? They took six of the officers down, and escaped! They say one of their members is as huge as a giant ape, and can smash metal with his bare hands. It gives me chills just thinking about running into them!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, I hear you. I wouldn't want to be caught in a crossfire between them." Talking about crimes led me back to the thoughts of my investigation. I decided to inquire Bernice about Landra.

"Hey Bernice, do you know anyone by the name of Landra Lawson?"
Bernice, her face perking up as a little child's receiving candy, replied, "Landra Lawson? Of course! We were great friends back in the day." Her face then drooped down in disappointment, and she continued, "But I haven't heard from her in a while. Last time I saw her she was headed for a career in drama," Bernice answered.
With a puzzled look on my face, I replied, "Interesting. But hold on, you don't know about her current situation?" I questioned. She looked up at me, with a somewhat confused look about her face.

"Situation? How is she?" Bernice wondered.

Finding it difficult to find the words, I began my story, "I hate to be the one to...tell…"

But suddenly, all of sudden, the bus came to a screeching halt. Due to the sudden decrease in acceleration, and Newton's first law, my head jolted in forward motion and I hit my head against the seat in front of me.

"Agh!" I cried out in pain.

It felt as if I had tried to break a block of wood with my head like one of those martial artists. I grabbed my head to stop the ringing, and just ahead of me I could hear gunshots coming from the middle of the street. I also could hear loud cries from outside as well. Shouts of terror and anxiety. Anger and Haste.

All I could make out though, was "Get da truck outta here!.........let anyone see 'er! Shoot ........... coppers! Don't...near da truck. can't let......know what...... got!"
Bernice cried out in terror! "Ahh! This must be one of the chain-gangs I've heard about in the news!" she yelped.

As my vision was clearing up, I tried to get a good glimpse inside of the black truck on the street. There were two policeman, grounded, blood flowing from their chests. One gang-member in a black tuxedo, was laying on the ground with his arms outstretched, blood oozing out of his head. While the bus stalled, I focused my eyes on one of the windows, and I could faintly see a large figure holding a smaller one, the latter looking like a woman, in one of his gigantic hands. It looked like there was some struggling, but I couldn't view any longer because the bus had turned and reversed into the other direction to find an alternate route. Hurriedly, I tried to capture the events in my mind, and record the physical appearances of the gang and the hostage. I watched as the violent mafia scene faded slowly from sight, as the vision drew further and further away. The bus was silent after that, and everyone seemed too shocked to say a word.

I finally got home to my apartment at around 6 pm. I unlocked the door, and slowly trudged inside. Feeling tired, fatigued, and awestruck at the events of the day, I fell on the couch and rested. Before I drifted off to sleep, I made one last call to Stephen before the night ended. It rang......and rang......and rang.......and finally the answering machine came on. "You have reached an automated voice messaging service...etc." I was too drained to leave a message, so I hung up and drifted to sleep.

The alarm resonated boisterously once again, and as usual, at the wrong time expected. I clamored to get ready for work again, which had become my normal routine. At least this time I was only a half-an-hour late. I grabbed a few extra bucks and took flight out of the door without breakfast. I whistled for a cab, and rushed to work.

It was half-past eight when I arrived at my desk, and Tim blurted the usual greeting, "I can always count on you to make me look good in terms of tardiness," he said.
"What are friends for?" I replied in a sincere tone.

Recalling past events, I decided to talk to Tim about last night. In a solemn tone, I began, "But on a more serious note. Do you remember Landra? Landra Lawson? I think I may have spotted her last night."

A bit flabberghasted and skeptical, Tim answered, "Landra, huh, are you sure? You know you haven't been getting enough sleep these days, it could've been a hallucination.," Tim reasoned. "You don't even know what she looks like."

He had a good point there. I followed up with, "You may be right, but it's all we have to
go on. I also came across an interesting bit of information. Ya see, I found out from a friend that Landra went into the acting business. Do you know the names of any leading drama organizations around these parts?"

Reaching into the back of his mind, Tim began searching for familiar drama cults in the depths of his head.

"Hmmm, well there's Westchester Drama Club, Drama Kings and Queens, So You Want to Be a Broadway Star Inc....."

I stroked my chin while in deep thought. "Ok," I said. "Research those organizations, and find out if she participates in any of them," I demanded.

Tim willingly agreed. "I'll get right on it. I can't wait to get my mint-condition copy of Ultraman meets the Uncanny X-mutants!" he exclaimed excitedly.

While Tim began his search, he spat out a question. "How did you "supposedly" come across Landra, anyway?" Tim asked.

"Well, it's interesting really. Did you hear of the shooting that occurred down on Elm Street last night? You know, right after work?" I inquired.

Tim answered, "Of course, it was on the news last night, and Samantha was all over the case for this morning's paper."

"Well," I began, "I was riding home on the bus last night, and I actually WITNESSED the shooting."

Tim stopped typing for a moment. Looking bewildered and awestruck, Tim exclaimed, "WHAT!? You were there!? And you didn't even write anything about it!? I mean shee, give Samantha a free promotion why don't you!"

Disappointed at the opportunity I had missed, but also preoccupied, I answered, "I'm sorry Tim, I guess I forgot my day-job and assumed the role of investigator. Anyway, a person's life is more important than some old story. I thought I saw her in the gang's truck."
Just then, Tim's luck and technical skills actually paid off. "Whoa! We've got results, bud!" he cried.

"What, really? What you got?" I asked, surprised.

"It seems that our friend Landra is part of the Westchester Drama Club. Yeah and it looks like their latest play was held at the MidDale Theatre down in Freelance County, in the next state, it's called....."A Midwinter's Day Dream." Tim explained.

"Are you serious?!" I cried in disbelief.

"Yes," Tim replied.

"Seriously?" I asked again, still in unassuming disbelief.

"Yes," Tim answered again.

"Seriously!?" I asked, to prove it was all real.

"YES!" Tim exclaimed, a bit peeved.

"This is perfect, that actress, what's her name.....Kaitlyn Grimm? She's part of that same play, and she's in town right now. Remember? And the boss, he wants someone to interview her for the Daily Times!" I yelled excitedly.

At that moment, the door that connected to the chief's office barged open, and there came the gloriously satisfied face of Samantha Winkle, proudly marching in.

"Guess who got the job to interview the famous Kaitlyn Grimm? It seems my reputation precedes me. Thanks to my stand-up job at the shooting gallery last night, I was able to secure this interview all to myself," Samantha boasted.