Bar Boggs is near Guild HQ, merely a few streets away. The Supervisor takes the lead and the rest of our group mutely follows behind in silence. It doesn't take long for us to spot the bar's neon signboard right across the street. Unfortunately, Boggs is not near any intersection with a traffic light, making the fastest way to get there simply dashing across the street during a lull in the traffic.

A duo ahead have gotten that idea into their heads and make the dash with practiced movements. Probably heading to the party as well, given how much effort they've put into their grooming this evening. Squinting a little, I realize its James and Sam, changed out of their Guild uniforms. Staying in the dorms at HQ sure is convenient.

"Shit!" the Supervisor shouts, stopping dead in his tracks and almost causing me to bump into him. Before I can complain, my thoughts are interrupted by the enraged honking from a heavy vehicle.

"What the hell?" I mutter, taking in the sight of one of Sam's dress shoes spontaneously shed its heel. Sam abruptly loses his balance and falls hard to the side, right in the path of an incoming truck. To my surprise, James doesn't miss a beat and rushes forward, using his body to shield Sam from the truck.

The truck's driver slams the brakes hard with an earsplitting screech and all of us can see smoke rising from the truck's tires. James slams his fists together, invoking his Warrior class powers, causing his muscles to swell. The dress shirt strains against James's rapidly enlarging torso, but he won't be strong enough to resist a truck slamming into him. Not in the time left before impact. The truck's tires bite into the asphalt and everyone holds their breath. I can see James tightly closing his eyes.

There's a hiss of pneumos engaging as the driver fully locks down his truck's wheels and the screeching reaches a crescendo. The vehicle's cabin lurches forward from the sudden jolt and despite myself, I grit my teeth from the tension.

Two inches.

The truck managed to stop two inches away from James's face. If the driver was a bit slower on the uptake, both he and Sam would be bloody smears on the road by now.

"Thank god!" the Supervisor cries out and hustles across the road, grabbing James and pulling him to the other side. I follow suit, catching Sam by the crook of his arm and pulling the man up. As our enlarged group hauls ass to the safety of the pavement, Sam's damaged shoe sloughs off his foot like a piece of discarded snake skin.

"That was intense." James wryly remarks, fixing his slightly torn clothes as best as he's able.

"You didn't need to do that for me." Sam pipes up, hobbling with just one shoe, "That stunt could have gotten you killed."

"Good show though," the Supervisor praises, "Not many people would have been willing to put it all on the line like that."

"Ah, yeah." James blushes, looking embarrassed, "Sam's always been clumsy. So I'm used to stuff like this happening around him."

"Are you feeling OK?" I question James with narrowed eyes.

"Yes? Why shouldn't I not be OK?" James makes a surprised noise, "The truck didn't hit me. Not even a scratch."

"Things were pretty close though." the Supervisor comments as we make our way down the street toward the entrance of Boggs.

My eyes flick between James and Sam. Other than losing his shoe, Sam's pretty much the same as when I met him in the Rift. Just more snappily dressed now. James though, well, he's not lying when he says the truck didn't hurt him. But there's one crucial thing different about the man right now.

James's halo is gone. And come to think about it, I didn't notice James's halo either while he was in the middle of his heroics.

"I'm fine, Adam." James reassures me, noticing my gaze hovering over him, "Really."

"That's great." I grunt, "Would be a downer if you got yourself hurt just before the party."

"Wouldn't want that to happen!" James laughs, flexing both arms. Man's got gaudy taste in clothes. The topmost button of his dress shirt has been popped, revealing the trace of a bare chest adorned with a gold chain. James notices Sam falling behind and lends his friend a shoulder, easing Sam's uncomfortable single shoe hobble.

"Hey Adam, I want to ask you something." Sam asks as he wipes the sweat from his brow, "Why are most of our department functions held at Bar Boggs?"

"Because the owner, Boggs, used to be an employee of the Guild." I snort, "She was really close to the former Grandmaster of the Guild. So Phoenix Guild throws her work every now and again."

"Don't go around dissing Boggs Everett." the Supervisor comments, "She's a legend in her own right. Boggs could kick your ass. Easily."

"Just stating facts, sir." I blandly respond, "Boggs doesn't mind people knowing of her connection to the late Grandmaster anyway."

"Just don't make it sound like the Guild is giving her pity." the Supervisor quirks his mouth, "Boggs is a better woman than that. And you know the official position about our Grandmaster. So no mouthing off in public."

"Right. Right." I wave my hand in affirmation, "We await the Grandmaster's return from unknown lands. That better?"

"Ayup." the Supervisor nods as he opens the door to the bar, "There's a reason why there's only an Acting Grandmaster now."

We step into a packed drinking hall, the air heavy with cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Bar Boggs isn't the biggest place in town, and this Guild gathering is enough to fill the joint to the brim. We push our way forward to the bar counter where a a comely middle aged woman presides over the bar's servers as they prepare drinks for the party.

"Cynthia!" the Supervisor spreads both arms wide, "Good to see you again."

The middle aged woman approaches and embraces Supervisor, both of them indulging in a bear hug. The Supervisor's got muscles of steel, but Cynthia Boggs doesn't show any discomfort. If anything, it looks like she's enjoying this duel of strength.

"Good to see you too, love." Boggs grins, "What'll it be then? Beer to start? Or our house cocktails?"

"Beer sounds good." the Supervisor decides for us on the spot, "And bring several jugs to our table, Cynthia! We came late, so there's catching up to do!"

.......

"So, how did Excelsior show up at Phoenix Guild anyway?" I quiz James, pouring him another beer from the last jug remaining.

James blinks his eyes, face flushed red. Beside him, Sam engages in a heated drinking game with the Supervisor with the rest of our group watching.

"What?" James finally says before chugging down his glass.

"Excelsior." I remind the budding alcoholic in front of me.

"Excelsior ... Excelsior ..." James belches as he concentrates, "He's actually not part of the Guild, y'know? Captain Latour brought him to the city. About something or other."

"Something or other?" I repeat, nonplussed at how unhelpful this piece of information is.

"Dunno. That's their personal stuff." James shrugs helplessly, "You should ask either of them instead, Adam."

"Yeah." I reluctantly agree. Expecting James to have the lowdown on Excelsior was always going to be a longshot. I should be grateful that James even knows anything.

"But if Excelsior's not part of the Guild," I try pursuing a different line of questioning, "Why was he in the Rift with us?"

"Oh that." James nods in thanks as I pour out another drink, "Captain Latour made Excelsior some kind of consultant. So Excelsior helps out when Captain Latour tells him to. Like with the Rift. Or with supervising Support Department."

So, uh, does Excelsior have one gun on him, or two?" I bite my lip and for the issue that's been nagging at me.

Instead of answering me, James stares ahead boggle eyed before raising his index finger to his mouth in an exaggerated fashion.

"Shhhhh." James whispers, his chin sinking to the table.

"Its a secret?" I frown.

"Not secret, silly. Sensitive." James chuckles drunkenly, "Everyone knows what happened, but no one talks about it. Its not polite you see."

"Excelsior isn't here, James." I lean forward, waiving that objection away.

"Still not polite to talk behind someone's back." James belches again, giving me a face full of beer breath.

"You want the rest of the jug?" I urge James with a conspiratorial smile, pushing the jug toward him.

"Screw it. Like you ... I mean, like I said, its no secret," James begins tipping the entire jug to his mouth, "Excelsior lost the other gun. He can't succeed his dad with just one. He's become a joke to all the other schools."

"Yeah, its pretty funny alright." I keep my face neutral at this news. Confirmation of what I already knew. Maybe I was hoping that things weren't quite that dire. Hope springs eternal after all.

"Everett!"

"Adam!"

"What!" I yell back as both Sam and the Supervisor glare at me accusingly.

"You gave all the beer to James!" Sam complains, pointing at his own empty glass.

"Cynthia! Cynthia!" the Supervisor waives to the bar, "We need a refill!"

Boggs ambles over to us with an amused smile on her face.

"More beer?" she asks.

"No! We've gotten warmed up already." the Supervisor bangs his meaty fist on the table, "Shots for everyone! Whiskey."

"No problem." Boggs looks back to the bar where a queue of revelers has formed, "My servers are a mite busy now, so just wait a moment -"

"Everett! You caused this problem, you solve it." the Supervisor blearily gives me an order, "Sally forth, and do not return without our drinks!"

"Come on then love." Cynthia Boggs gestures at me to follow her, "I'll help you get sorted then."

I'm led to the bar counter, where Boggs brings out a bottle of whiskey and begins to pour out the shots Supervisor wanted. My eyes drift to the wall, where an entire gallery worth of photos is displayed. One in particular draws my attention. A photo of Boggs and a distinguished looking mustachioed man posing over the carcass of a Primal Ape. Boggs is much younger in the photo, stars in her eyes while she flashes a victory sign. The older man has one foot on top of the Ape's head as he smirks at the camera.

"That was the first time I met the Grandmaster." Boggs comments as she prepares a jug of soda water for our whiskey, "I didn't think I was going to survive that day."

"I had a similar experience recently. It was more terrifying than heroic." I laugh, "The Grandmaster took you under his wing after that fateful day, huh?"

"You could say that." Boggs makes a strange face, "We were more friends than anything though."

"Friends." I murmur, looking at the next photo in line showing a long snaking row of supermodels dressed in wedding gowns. At the head of the procession is that mustachioed man again.

"The Grandmaster had too many women." Boggs grins, "He felt that it was easier to marry all of them at once."

I scan the photo, finally managing to find Boggs seated among the guests.

"You never -" I begin but Boggs quickly shushes me.

"I friend zoned him." she explains, "I knew him way too well to become a lover."

"How many women did the Grandmaster marry?" I ask, trying to count the number of supermodels in the photo.

"Close to a hundred." Boggs sighs sadly, "And he had more than a thousand children. It all ended in tragedy though."

"The fire right?" I reply, "I heard about that. After the Grandmaster's disappearance, his castle got razed. By who, no one knows."

"All the children dead. And most of the harem as well." Boggs becomes quietly upset, "My theory is that someone in the harem did it, the women settling scores among themselves."

"Huh." I grunt, not sure how to respond to that.

"Sorry, didn't mean to spoil the mood." Boggs perks up again, "You mind bringing the drinks back by yourself? I'm going to fire up the karaoke."

"You're going to sing with my Supervisor again, aren't you?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"Mark's a crooner." Boggs explains, "Once he loses his inhibitions."

"Aren't we all." I muse in silence as Boggs walks back to my table, where the Supervisor swiftly accepts her invitation.

Both of them make their way to a small stage in the corner of the bar eagerly while I weave my way through the crowd with the tray of drinks in my hands. Its slow going, especially since I don't want to spill anything. The music starts in the background, with Boggs and the Supervisor belting out their duet.

"About time." James cheers as I set down the drinks.

"You've had enough." Sam delicately pushes the glasses away from James, eliciting a pout from the alcoholic.

"Its a party." James complains.

"You can drink the soda water." Sam shoots back. I sip my whiskey, ignoring the duo's bickering.

Then I see it. A glint in the corner of my eye. Coming from under my serviette. Strange, the glint wasn't there before I left to get the whiskey. I reach underneath the serviette and find a folded up voucher. Or maybe its a ticket?

But the words printed on the voucher, in bright cheerful colors, is what really gets my attention.

"To SEE what the SLEEPER cannot. That is what it means to be AWAKE."