I used my finding spell on Evan and Freddie’s friend. It’s not like remote viewing or clairvoyance. When it works, I just know where I need to go. You ever see one of those little weird buildings that could be an auto body shop or an exterminator or a place saying they can fix your phone screen? But then you find out it’s actually some kind of bar/club? A place like that in Havana (not Cuba) is where my spell told me to go.
An odd place to be at 8 in the morning but no big deal right? I had a feeling that wasn’t the case. Instead of telling Evan and Frankie, I drove out there. There wasn’t much to see from the outside. I was playing over various break-in scenarios in my mind when I realized it’s a fucking club. Just wait until it’s open and go in. I watch too many action movies. In real life you don’t break into places.
I did the spell again 12 hours later and it directed me to the same place. I took another drive out there during “business” hours. There were a half dozen cars and a couple bikes parked on the “lawn”. What do you call it when there’s no grass? Just property I guess. People were sitting around drinking beer and listening to some awful music. Swamp metal or some shit.
I walked up and said that my car had broken down and my phone was dead. It wasn’t a very good plan. Someone sitting outside just said they’d call a tow truck. My idea was to be invited in to look around but there probably isn’t even an old phone inside. While I was waiting, I asked them what this place was. They said it was a private club. When I asked how you get invited to a private club, a dude with a rat-tail and a denim vest said “sodomy” and slapped me on the ass.
I picked up an empty beer bottle and said “Great, pop those knickers off and let’s jam”. That got a lot of laughs. I’m the last person who should be trying to infiltrate any kind of social hierarchy but I know how these groups operate. I knew right then that denim vest was a hanger-on and therefore an acceptable target for abuse.
Identifying and whipping the designated whipping boy doesn’t get you “in” but it’s a good icebreaker. They deigned to let me hang around waiting for the tow truck. Occasionally denim vest would try to come back at me but I always turned it around on him. Not because I’m great at that sort of thing but because he was so inarticulate and thin-skinned that it was easy. The madder he got the more his “friends” laughed it up.
My last gambit when the tow truck showed up was to ask if I could use the bathroom. I was told to use the bushes.
Anyone reading this is probably thinking “why didn’t you just ask where Evan’s friend was?” That would be the logical thing to do. But I don’t think logic is what’s needed here.
I just have a feeling.
Rocket Cat 