"Thanks again for clearing out the squatters. I won't forget that." He nods, then looks away.

"Thanks again for clearing out the squatters. I won't forget that." He nods, then looks away.

"Are the squatters gone yet?"

"Yeah, they're gone."

"Man. That's a relief. Woo!" He smiles, tilting his head back, and crumples up the eviction notice.

"They were just musicians, you megawuss."

"That's it?" He frowns. "Man, I could have handled that."

"You need to get people away from this place. The Palace is going to come down any second."

"Shit. It's that bad?" He surveys the building one last time. "It might take a bit for people to get here. I don't think anyone will miss it much, honestly."

They no longer notice its presence, but they'll feel its absence -- a hole in the city's memory.

"I've got a theory about why the building is collapsing."

"A theory? Isn't it just old?"

"The Palace is trying to kill itself to hide its terrible shame."

"The building is suicidal? Why?"

"It's failed to serve the purpose it was built for."

"I dunno, that just seems a little dramatic." He scratches his chin. "And thinking about it, can a build even want... stuff?"

"Look at it. It's been through too much."

"The Palace is trying to wang itself to hide its terrible shame."

"You were right. Maybe it's just old."

"Makes sense, doesn't it?"

His words are tinged with subtle disappointment.

"It's part of an ongoing city-wide cover-up to erase Nestor's legacy from the people's minds."

"Hard to see the harm in that. We got rid of most of the statues and exiled him too."

"Right. It's the good kind of cover-up."

"Those are a thing? Huh." He shrugs. "You know, us Portofirans don't need to cling on to the past like other places do. We lived through it -- that's lesson enough."

"But if you erase the records, aren't you doomed to repeat history?"

"Maybe that's what happens where you're from. Portofiro's different. We don't need those kinds of reminders."

"The Palace doesn't have the will to keep standing, even when people depend on it. It's pathetic."

"I'm pretty sure it started to collapse after people stopped depending on it, though."

THE SUPPORT OF THE PEOPLE IS IMMATERIAL. THE BUILDING SHOULD HAVE KEPT UP THE FIGHT REGARDLESS.

"The Palace has been pondering its place in history and the universe at the end of its life."

"And it's decided that its place is...?"

"It doesn't have one. The world's moved on -- so it's making an exit."

"Huh." He blinks up at the building. "I guess that's not wrong. It doesn't really fit here anymore."

"Found a bomb in there. All strapped up with no-one to blow."

"A bomb?" His eyes widen. "The procedures for clearing unexploded ordinance are... Oh, man. This is going to take forever."

The next two weeks flash before his eyes...

Cordoning off the whole neighborhood, all-night shifts, non-stop abuse from everyone who can't get to their corner shop, or bar, or home...

"I'll take care of that too. Safely."

"You can do that?" He asks warily. "Where'd you even learn?"

(Whisper.) "I'm not really a sock importer."

"No way." He leans in. "I'd have never suspected."

It never even crossed his mind.

"Okay." He glances over his shoulder. "I'll pretend you never told me about the... exploding thing. Better for everyone."

"The world of sock trading is violent beyond your wildest imaginings."

"Hosiery. Huh. Who'd have thought?"

"Just trust me on this."

"It's better if you don't know."

"Yeah, that's gonna suck for you."

He groans.

The rash on his neck visibly throbs.

"Your aunt Carmuna was involved in a plot to assassinate Nestor."

"No shit, Tía Carmuna's been terrorising me my whole life." The realisation of what you've just said hits him. "You mean... the bomb, and Nestor, and... her?"

Suddenly, he realises, he doesn't know her at all.

"So are you just going to stand here guarding rubble now?" (Conclude.)

"No way. They can send someone from the Party Alley beat to keep people out of here -- I'm going back to the Bazaar."

"Meet you back over there."

"Maurito will see you soon, back on his own turf."

"Do you not feel any responsibility for what happens here?"

"This is not Maurito's turf." He shrugs.

"You really are a coward, Maurito."

"Enough Palace stuff, I have other matters for you." [Leave.]

"Not yet, miss. Maurito needs to get back into his proper position." He looks behind you, towards the Bazaar.

"They're safe."

"Easiest gig of my life."

"The squatters. Did you get them out?"

"Working on it."

"Okay." He heaves a sigh. "If you need help... uh, shout, I guess."

If he hears a scream from inside the Palace, the last thing he's going to do is run inside to assist.

"Let me take a look inside for you."

"And let people think the carabineros are taking over my sensitive operation?" He tilts his head from side to side.

This little performance is for his own benefit.

This little piggy's a total pussy.

"My only desire is to support the law."

"A citizen's eviction. Unconventional, but..." He squints, tongue pressing against his cheek. "I won't mention it to the others. Don't worry."

"As an officer of the Guardia Municipal, I give you permission to enter." He taps his badge. "Please get them out of there."

"Thanks, Maurito."

He gives you a thumbs up, his shoulder sagging in visible relief.

"I'll check in shortly."

"Here, this might be useful." He gives you small flashlight.

"More gear, nice."

"Maurito, look at me. This is a baby-tier assignment. It doesn't even move the adrenaline needle. Stand down."

"Huh." He squints, tongue pressing against his cheek. "You, uh, do security work back home or something?"

"And a few other places."

"I'm just a natural."

"Listen, I'm going in. Cool?"

"Well..." He squints, tongue pressing against his cheek. "Cool."

"Why would a sock businesswoman do that?" He blinks at you, slowly.

He's desperately hoping you'll give him a good reason to let you step in.

Just say something that sounds good. No need to get deep -- in fact, better if you don't.

Tell the piggy we're not pussies. But in a way he'll like.

"Maurito can't just let a civilian go in there." He blinks at you, slowly.

"So... what's the hold up?"

"It's just... methodological complexities. See, per procedure, an officer must occupy the Zone of Obtrusion to ensure no further trespass occurs." He taps his foot. "The Zone's here."

"But, in parallel, an officer must breach the Zone to serve the eviction notice and applicate a timely and effective removal of all offenders from the premises."

Ah, cop speak -- stilted, bloated, and memorised from a pamphlet.

Look -- wobbling legs. Prey shakes.

"You're not afraid of going in, are you?"

"Who? Maurito? No. Not even close."

"It just needs some... figuring." He looks up hesitantly at the Palace.

Given the building's condition, he might be scared of the whole thing collapsing on him.

"So you just need two officers. Problem solved"

"That's what a laywoman would say. You need tactical training to get the dimensions of it all."

"You could go in and ignore procedure for a few minutes."

"Never. That'd be an insult to my sworn profession. And to the law."

Yeah, he's pretty scared.

"How'd the squatters get in? The entrance looks blocked off."

"The delivery tunnel right behind me, I'm thinking. That's the only way in or out since the awning collapsed last year." He nods to a spot a few metres away.

A brownish stain on the bricks, like a shadow cast by no one.

Pedestrian. Crushed. Very likely fatal.

"Unless they've been hiding out in there for months."

"How would you get them to leave?"

"Tactical strike. Special carabinero detachment." He ponders. "Maybe some smoke bombs?"

He talks as if they're terrorists.

Most GMs don't carry guns.

Even in his fantasy, he has to call in the big boys.

"They're musicians."

"Alright? So?"

His voice is indifferent, but his eyes drift back towards the building, curious.

"So maybe the Portofiran music scene isn't dead yet."

"If it's been hiding out in there, I'd say it's not just dead, it's awaiting burial."

Too cynical to consider it.

"So maybe the Portofiran music scene isn't wanged yet."

"Just, you know. They don't seem like a threat."

"Looks can be deceptive ma'am."

He believes the cliche, so it's his final word on the subject.

"Carmuna is looking for you, by the way. She says you deserted your post."

"That woman. You tell Carmuna that Little Maurito's not her personal GM." He gulps. "And tell her to feed Bambu for me. She has the keys."

A man sprinkles dried kibbles into a bowl. His companion pads around him, brushing against his ankles, tail fluttering. Streetlights smear against the window, but the fragile machinery of routine holds the world at bay.

"Can we talk about something that isn't this Palace?"

"Not right now, miss. Maurito needs to concentrate. Once this is all over, maybe."

"I'll be back." [Leave.]

He nods at you.

"Not yet."

He swears softly under his breath, fiddling with his whistle and staring up at the ominous building.

Officer Maurito is where you left him, still looking into the building's entrance.

"Operation's still underway, miss." He nods, twice. "Sensitive stuff."

"Need some back-up?"

"Please, now's no time to go around playing carabinero." He waves the orange slip. "An eviction notice. We got squatters in the Palace of Culture."

He leans to the side, peering into the dark entrance. Then, he tilts forwards, just a bit -- and stops entirely.

DOES THE PROTO-FASCIST LARVAE NOT KNOW THAT PALACES OF CULTURE WERE BUILT TO BE FREE AND OPEN TO ALL?

"Why the eviction? Are they bothering anyone?"

"It's for their safety. The building's all rotten on the inside. Bits have been coming off for ages -- and it's getting worse. They shouldn't be in there."

"Not to mention that, if anything happens, we'll waste valuable Guardia time picking their remains out of the rubble."

"What if they have nowhere else to go?"

"That's not the Guardia's problem now, is it?"

He makes no move towards the building. At all.

"Maybe they'll pack up if you tell them that."

"There's no guarantee here. They are squatters." He scratches his moustache. "Those people aren't logical."

"Sounds like they need to get out -- willingly or not."

"I'd prefer willingly."

"'Squatting' is a fake crime. The Palace of Culture belongs to the people."

"Maybe where you're from, but we're in a civilised place." He leans back. "See, you messed up my analysis with your nonsense."

"Maurito's the one with the badge and qualifications here." He waves the orange slip. "An eviction notice. We got squatters in the Palace of Culture."

"What's going on?"

"Eviction notice, miss." He waves the orange slip. "We got reports of squatters in the Palace of Culture. Maurito's about to go in."

Maurito squints up at the dilapidated building, shielding his eyes with an orange slip of paper. He grunts as you approach.

"Olá again, miss. Please stand back, a sensitive operation is underway."

Can't be that sensitive. The area's not secured, and there's no other GM around.

"I'll stay away." (Leave.)

"Your co-operation is appreciated."

He leans to the side, peering into the darkened entrance. As you step away, the officer makes no move towards it.

The Guardia Municipal officer squints up at the dilapidated building, shielding his eyes with an orange slip of paper. He grunts as you approach.

"Olá, miss. Officer Maurito," He taps his badge. "Please stand back, a sensitive operation is underway."