Three weeks of rain and bad sleep have turned The Rusty Anchor into a chapel for drunks. Dallas slumps in the corner, bourbon gone warm in his glass, coat wrinkled, eyes red as brake lights.
The door opens. Jackson Temple steps in, uniform pressed, face tired but steady. He spots Dallas at once and heads over with the look of a man bringing news he wishes he did not have.
Jackson drops a heavy manila envelope onto the table. The thud lands between them like a verdict. Dallas stares at it, then at Jackson, too drunk to hide how much it matters.
Jackson Temple
You asked me to dig. I dug. Elena’s not clean, Dallas. She’s been moving through other people’s files for a long time.
Dallas Fontaine
The envelope is thick. Real thick.
Jackson Temple
I found old addresses, a shell company, and a few names that keep disappearing when her trail gets close. Somebody trained her to stay invisible.
Jackson eases the envelope closer, not quite pushing it, not quite retreating. Outside, the harbor fog presses against the windows like a dirty hand, while inside the bar the jukebox hums to itself.
Jackson Temple
Let me get you home first. Then you can decide what hurts worse, the truth in there, or the woman who taught it to lie.
✓ Quest Accepted
Learn the truth about Elena's past
“Dallas hugs Jax. His speech slurred "Hey it's my best man. Do we really have to go?"”
SUCCESS (Superb Willpower, rolled +0)
Dallas rises too fast, chair legs scraping the boards, and folds into Jackson with a rough, whiskey-warm hug.
Dallas Fontaine
Hey, it’s my best man. Do we really have to go?
Jackson Temple
For a minute, no.
Jackson eases one arm around Dallas’s back, careful as if he is holding up more than a drunk detective. The envelope stays trapped between them on the table, its edge stamped with Desk Nine routing marks.
Jackson Temple
You do not have to swallow this alone. I can read it with you, or sit here while you do.
Dallas loosens the hug just enough to look at him. Across the bar, fog beads on the windows. The pale envelope waits like a patient witness.
Jackson Temple
Whatever Elena was, whatever was done to her, it is in there somewhere. You still get to choose what kind of man reads it.
“Dallas orders some coffee and tries to sober up, looking through the file with Jax.”
SUCCESS (Superb Willpower, rolled +1)
Jackson flags the bartender with two fingers, and a fresh cup lands beside the envelope. Dallas pulls the coffee in both hands, steam cutting through the bourbon haze.
Jackson Temple
Drink that. Then open it. I am not rushing you, I am staying.
Dallas Fontaine
The coffee is bitter enough to wake the dead. Good.
Dallas sets the bottle aside and works the envelope open. The Desk Nine stamps flash under the bar light as Jackson slides the paperwork closer.
Jackson Temple
Shell companies, dead ends, borrowed names. Somebody taught Elena how to disappear on purpose.
Dallas reads line by line. The file shows payments routed through front businesses, rented mail drops, and clean withdrawals that stop and start years apart.
Jackson Temple
That is not a woman stumbling into trouble. That is tradecraft.
Jackson taps one page with a knuckle, then leaves it where Dallas can see the final notation. The rain-muted windows hold the room in a gray blur while the cup warms Dallas's hands.
Jackson Temple
You want the hard truth, it is this. She was running with cover names long before she ever met you. Now you know what was in the envelope.
Quest Complete
Learn the truth about Elena's past
Attribute Upgrade: Willpower Superb→Legendary