There are moments in life where Lyam wished that he was fueled with nothing but motivation. No need to eat, sleep, socialize, or shower. And right now, Lyam found himself lonely and unmotivated. He was overwhelmed with thoughts, but had a hard time processing any of them. Every time felt like a continuous loop, trying to rest, returning to the case, shutting down and resting again. Procrastinating in every way imaginable. 

That’s not to say he didn’t get any work done. There were still small cases that came to the heron and he solved them with ease. Like the case of the missing code for a locked file cabinet; not exactly something you’d hire a detective for, but once Lyam figured out the guy’s working habits, it wasn’t hard to guess what the numbers were. Then there were cases that took up more time than he would’ve liked, but it wasn’t due to the difficulty of the mystery. A little girl’s pet goldfish had gone missing, and it was the grandmother that took it. It was done out of the belief that the pet was not given good enough care and attention. 

At the end of the day, telling people the truth was the hardest task. Cold hard evidence is easy to collect; Emotions and relationships, to Lyam, were always the most difficult to manage. Opinions clash and conflicts happen. There were many cases where Lyam already had the answers to the mystery, but were forced to sit there for hours, listening to people bicker about who’s right and who’s wrong. 

Despite all these mediocre cases that took up the majority of his time, he still went back to that Royal Owl case at the end of the day, the very thing that got him into this mess of an office. Spending his nights looking over the boxes of evidence he collected since the beginning, but found himself in the same dead end. Missing money with no sign of it at any of their possible money laundering locations.

“Damn fire…” Lyam cursed under his breath, remembering back to when he finally got a warrant for a laundromat, thought to help launder their money. He was so excited, that he had his partner Wilson scope the place out before they go searching, but by the time the detective got there, the place was already set ablaze. When the ashes settled, the building was empty. They searched up and down, but no sign of this ledger. It was that day when everyone turned against him, seeing his theories as just fantasy. 

Between his cases, Lyam would take the opportunity to pass by some storefronts where some Owls had recently visited, and asked the store owners for any information on the mafia. Unfortunately, he was only met with a cordial door slam to his beak. Frustrated in his lack of progress, he continued on route onto his next case before heading back to his office.

As the heron opened the door and stepped into his quarters, he noticed something beneath his feet, a note, addressed to him.. Curious, he snatched it up from the ground and quickly sat down at his desk. Opening the letter, revealing it was from one of the store owner’s children. He began to glance over the note, skimming over the basic greetings and other unimportant items. It wasn’t until he read off a name did he begin to slow down and take in more details. “Sive Thornia-” Lyam said to himself quietly. The name had come up before in his case, but the trail on them went cold. Reading more into it, he found out they visited their laundromat and other shops on this small block, offering to buy them out, and continue to work within them. The child believes their father took the deal and felt like it was a bad idea to get involved with the owls.

The thought of an actual lead filled the heron with eagerness to get back into the field. Knowing this could be connected to the big case, it might be what he needed to find the source of the Hush, or the Royal Owls themselves. Out of the door he went, hurriedly putting on his coat to follow up on the potential breakthrough. 

Lyam rushed down the street, and rounded the corner to be met with a large crowd around one of the stores. He pushed his way through the mob of people, using his long neck to peer over everyone. It wasn’t long until he found the source of the commotion as a yell resonated from the storefront.

“Move, move! Out of the way!” Yelled what looked to be a Horned Owl in a suit, parting the flock of birds towards a lone vehicle on the street before yelling, “Clear!”

Then suddenly a tall Snowy Owl came walking out of the building, wearing a white suit with black spots. The private eye was able to spot them with ease amongst the commotion. To him, there was no doubt that it was Thornia leaving the small laundromat as the lead stated. From within his coat, he pulled out a small notepad and pen, jotting down the vehicle’s plate before it drove off. 

Lyam rushed back to the office and contacted his old partner Wilson to help him run the plates for any information that may help his investigation.

“License plate?!” Wilson blurted out. The sound of him spilling his coffee all over his desk can be heard on the phone, and now he had to clean it up. The officer groaned at the mess as he rustled to find a towel.

“Lyam, you can’t just-” A deep sigh followed as the partner spoke. “You know I’m not supposed to be helping you. We could get into serious trouble, and you’re not even on the force, remember?” The petrel whispered aggressively into his phone.

“I know, Wilson. Just- I’m onto something here. This could be the big break. Could you do me this favor, just this once?” The eager detective spoke with desperation, wanting his friend to help. After all, the two had each other's back when it came to cases like this back in the days. 

Silence had filled the line before Wilson spoke back up again, in a more relaxed tone. “Fine, just this one time. I’ll send over the information on the plates when I get them. By the way, you remember my girlfriend, Sandy So-” The call was hung up before the former partner was allowed to ramble on about unimportant conversations.

After the conversation, and countless cups of coffee, the heron fished out what he had on this Snowy Owl. Every connection and suspicion the police sought him for, Lyam had spread on his desk. He just needed one thing to get them locked up, then the rest would spill out. 

It was early morning that the information finally came back to him through a fax. “This is it.” He spoke quietly to himself, excitedly reading the news. However, his newfound optimism quickly shifted to frustration and annoyance when he was told that the plates were clean, making this another dead end. A long groan of anger was let out as the heron perched on his office chair. What he thought was the right path was just another road of deadends and logic holes. It left him feeling defeated and drained, and it seemed the case was all just crumbling before his eyes.  

The anger started to build up inside, and he could only think of one thing to numb it. Grabbing his coat off from the rack, Lyam started to make way to the Ruffled Feathers nightclub, remembering the name from the interview with their singer, Maggie Berrybush. Perhaps the soft, relaxing tone of her voice, and possibly a good, stiff drink would help. 

As he walked down the block, it became obvious about the state of this city. The further he went, the further the new changes fell behind him. Ahead of him laid a sad sight of the poor neglected parts of the area. Windows were boarded up with the dreary atmosphere to match. As he walked further towards the center of the city, the differences were even more noticeable. There was less trash that littered the streets around him, more people were out-and-about, and how well maintained everything seemed to be. “They should at least revitalize the outskirts soon…” He spoke softly to himself, making pace to his destination. 

The observations were cut short as the heron got close to the nightclub. “They’re all around us! Watching us!” A voice yelled as he approached. The individual was a white feathered Cockatoo wearing a lab coat. He approached the private eye, seeming delirious and raving more about their topic. “Aliens, observers, they watch us all! You should be afraid-”

“Get out of my way, you demented cockatoo.” Lyam spoke up, cutting them off as he pushed past. While walking away, their words rang into his ears.

“They will try to contact you! Be afraid, sir!” It was the last thing he heard before entering ‘The Ruffled Feathers’. 

Pushing past the door and finding a seat at the bar to settle down, he tried to unwind himself from what tension built up amidst life’s problems and the dead ends in the case. As the private-eye sat there with the drink in his hand, he gazed upon the stage, watching the familiar singer play their tune that whispered sweet harmony into his ears. Between the alcohol and the sparrow’s song, Lyam felt like it was a good idea to come here more often, just to listen to a nice melody; An escape, in some way, from the trouble this case is causing him. After some time, he eventually wobbled his way back home, drunk, his head clouded from the alcohol ingested.

And yet, the gears in the bird’s head continued to turn. Though his mind was hazy with alcohol, he kept going through the clues and leads, retracing his steps, over and over again. ‘It couldn’t be all. There has to be something Wilson forgot about.’ The heron drunkenly thought as he reached for the red phone that sat upon his desk and picked it up, wanting to call his old partner to double check everything. Of all the things he would expect at this moment, he wasn’t expecting another person to be already on the line. 

“Hello, Lyam.” the voice spoke up before he could say anything. 

“H-Hello?”