text: [Themes: Mystery, female protagonist, male protagonist]
  
  > Look around
  A pleasant enough place, even if the smoke-blackened sky and tall buildings peering over the TREES leave one under no illusions that this is anywhere but smack in the middle of the city.
  
  We're on the cobbled square with the famous weeping fish FOUNTAIN. A BENCH overlooks the area, upon which a courting COUPLE sit, side by side.
  
  A PRIESTESS lies sunning herself on the grass, some distance away.
  
  IVY is by my side, elfin and mischievous.
  
  > Couple
  A gentleman and lady, both smartly dressed, perhaps a little older than Ivy and me.
  
  "They make a nice pair, don't you think?" I suggest.
  
  Ivy mimes retching.
  
  Seeing her gesture, the couple both shoot me a pitying look, as if they think I should set my sights higher.
  
  > Priestess
  Although she mostly fits the part with her straight black hair and KALASIRIS, her pale skin marks her out as an Oldchester native. I'd imagine that's the reason she's trying to get a tan.
  
  "She's judging me," Ivy says, following my gaze. "I can tell."
  
  > Kalasiris
  A straight, white dress, the straps meeting behind her neck. I'm really not sure if the hemline is higher than Ivy's. The priestess is certainly showing more leg, but perhaps that's just because she's lying down and-
  
  "You look deep in thought," Ivy says. "I s'pose any quiet moment is a chance to ponder mysteries, right?"
  
  I clear my throat. "Yes, well."
  
  > Bench
  Someone has etched Silooette 4eva into the bench's arm. Now, Ivy's spelling may not be perfect, but she can at least spell her own alias. This message must have been left by one of her fans.
  
  > Fountain
  The fountain takes the form of a huge, scaly fish. Water cascades in torrents from the corners of its eyes and into a pool dotted with copper and silver coins.
  
  Ivy says, "Freaky. Not sure I'd trust this thing with my wishes."
  
  > Trees
  Hopwell Gardens has always been surprisingly wooded. It's not uncommon for people to get lost if they wander too far from the path. Peering into the anaemic, smog-poisoned trees, I think I can make out the tattered canvas of a TENT.
  
  Ivy cracks her knuckles. "You have that distant look in your eye.
  The chase is afoot."
  
  > Ivy
  I glance over at Ivy. I see a young woman, about the same age and height as me, slender, athletic, elfin. Her hair is cut into a short bob and her features are untouched by rouge.
  
  Ivy is carrying a NOTEBOOK, a YELLOW letter, and a BLUE letter, and she's wearing a long JACKET, a short DRESS, and a CLOCHE hat.
  
  > Yellow
  Written on scrappy paper, damaged by moisture and stained by soil. It's hard to tell without chemical analysis, but it doesn't look like soil native to Oldchester.
  
  Thought you got rid of me, did you?
  Well I'm on my way home.
  You'll get yours, city boy.
  
  From you know who.
  
  > Blue
  Written on paper that, while hardly rare, is certainly not inexpensive. There's no letterhead.
  
  Saul,
  Our mutual friend is in the city. Don't ask me how. Perhaps you
  can pay him off?
  Rupert Wetherby
  
  > TENT
  I point at the tattered piece of canvas in the trees. "Looks like someone's camping out."
  
  Ivy laughs. "What kind of idiot would sleep in a tent in Hopewell Gardens? Oh, wait... Yeah, I've not been paying attention."
  
  A dirt path leads IN, towards the tent.
  
  > Enter
  We follow the path into the woods, the sounds of civilisation growing distant behind us.
  
  The air here is cool and damp, the sky obscured by the broad green leaves of an immense and gnarled OAK. A TENT canopy has been strung across its branches, and a BARREL of fish sits between its roots.
  
  An unkempt MAN sits cross-legged in the dirt.
  
  IVY is by my side, elfin and mischievous.
  
  Oh, and, by the way, a giant SQUID on robot legs hulks over us all, chained to the oak's trunk.
  
  Ivy grabs my arm. "A squid on robot legs! You were right! I was right! Leg it!"
  
  The man leaps to his feet, swinging a flare gun wildly in our direction. "Not so fast, townies."
  
  > Man
  I can see the resemblance to Hawthorne, I suppose. Although it's obscured rather by his long, matted hair and untamed beard.
  
  He's bareheaded and clad in a suit of Martian SCALES.
  
  Davenport manages to control his mirth. "This is what qualifies for strength and authority in the city, is it? A lame pretty boy and a waif who can hardly see out from under her hat? No, I think you have this situation all backwards."
  
  > Scale
  The scales shimmer in the light: rust red, coarse and dry.
  
  Ivy whispers to me, "You carry a gun, right?"
  
  I'm shocked. "Of course not! I abhor violence. That's the very reason I became a police detective."
  
  > CANE
  A simple but sturdy walking stick, necessary since I was shot by an accomplice of the Bottle Street Strangler.
  
  "Look at you both," Davenport says. "In your city clothes. Prancing around like you own the world."
  
  > Barrel
  Stolen from a local fishmonger, I'm sure. It's full of slimy, oily FISH.
  
  "I've seen creatures that thought they owned a world," Davenport continues, "and then found out the hard way."
  
  > SCALES
  The scales shimmer in the light: rust red, coarse and dry.
  
  "Thought that was a meteorite, everyone did," Davenport says. "Left that crater in the ice. Didn't hang 'round long enough to find the truth."
  
  > TENT
  A tattered piece of canvas that seems to have attracted the filth of two continents like... well... some sort of... filth magnet.
  
  Davenport winks. It's a rather frightening sight. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you what I found down there, and you'll wish I hadn't."
  
  > Legs
  The squid's robot legs are thickly armoured and crab-like. Petrol-driven, I suspect, given the noise. As well as providing locomotion, they incorporate some sort of GILL apparatus.
  
  There's also a conspicuous LEVER in amongst the machinery.
  
  "This incredible machinery," I ask Davenport, "where did you get it? Who fashioned it?"
  
  "T-T-" he stammers, "that's none of your business, city boy!"
  
  > FISH
  When Davenport isn't looking, Ivy purloins a haddock.
  
  "DISTRACT him," she hisses.
  
  It seems she's formulated some sort of plan.
  
  > Arms
  Gathered in a writhing coil around its mouthparts are the squid's arms - eight muscular appendages lined with toothed suckers. Although their reach is limited, once it's got hold of you with these, you're a goner for sure. As Ivy might put it.
  
  Extending far beyond the squid's arms are its TENTACLES.
  
  Ivy whispers to me, "I don't understand what he's talking about."
  
  "Don't you read the papers?" I whisper back.
  
  She shrugs. "When I'm in them, sure."
  
  > distract
  The squid has two long tentacles, each ending in an arrowhead of suckers. They dart through the air like angry snakes. Not to be confused with its ARMS.
  
  Davenport looks up at the blue sky. "Mars. Dry and cold and dead. But it was pleasant enough. Once."
  
  I adjust my bowler and start to pace away from Ivy. "You're quite right. In fact, I see the error of my ways now. Perhaps you could instruct me in a few survival techniques?"
  
  Davenport looks at me pityingly. "The only teacher you need is Mother Nature. But I warn you, she's a harsh schoolmarm indeed."
  
  I try to look disappointed. "I see."
  
  Ivy discreetly slips the haddock into one of Davenport's pockets.
  
  > Eyes
  The squid stares at us with glassy eyes the size of dinner plates.
  
  "Creatures like us lived there," Davenport says. "High 'n' mighty. Civilised. But it counted for nothing when the oceans dried."
  
  > Muzzle
  "Don't worry," I tell Ivy, "it's not going to eat anyone while it's muzzled like that."
  
  "No," she agrees, "it'll just have to wring 'em out like a wet stocking instead."
  
  "Some of 'em fled," Davenport goes on. "The ark. Bet they were the smartest, the most civilised of all of them. But all this time later, it don't count for nothing."
  
  > Gill
  Among the intricate mass of machinery that supports the squid's existence on land is - obviously - a contraption for supplying it with oxygenated water. I can see a glass CANISTER of water connected to a mass of HOSES and a PUMP.
  
  It reminds me of my carrion fly experiment. Actually, I wonder how that's going...
  
  Ivy pokes me in the ribs. "Please don't start daydreaming when we're face to face with a sea monster."
  
  > Pump
  I'll be honest, I have no great technical appreciation of water or air pumps. Though after this, I'll be sure to do some research.
  
  "There they are," Davenport says. "Scratching at the ice like beggars. Savages. Feeding the weak to the many-armed monsters that came with 'em. No politeness. No etiquette. No pretence. Just do or die."
  
  > Canister
  Don't let the fact it's glass fool you: it must be pretty tough to contain water at deep-sea pressures.
  
  "And you, pretty boy," Davenport says, pointing at me, "you think this could never happen to us? How'd you get by without that cane of yours?"
  
  "Always rather badly," I admit. He seems satisfied at that.
  
  > Hoses
  Yes, I suspect that these hoses are this thing's weak spot. But we have no chance of getting close to them while the squid's tentacles are free.
  
  "We got rid of everything worthwhile," Davenport says. "And we replaced it all with this civilisation. Made up nonsense. Distractions. Anything except engaging with the real world. With the harsh realities."
  
  > LEVER
  Whatever it does, it's protected by the squid's ARMS and I have absolutely no chance of reaching it right now. Better to focus on something else.
  
  Davenport waves an arm at the city we can just about make out through the trees. "And what happens when all this goes the way of Mars? How many of us will survive? How many of us even have the least idea how to?"