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...uble decoy.

Gordon rounded the corner and was about to leap the electronic turnstiles, but a white gloved hand barred his way.  Barry, or so his name tag claimed, stood resolute in a green and gold, transit uniform.

'Ticket please, sir,' he asked.  His eyes were vacant, but for a single surviving hint of public service malevolence.  Gordon hesitated for a moment, stumped by this absurdly mundane hindrance.  Barry frowned.

'Sir, do we need to have a discussion about the pros and cons of fare evasion in my office?'  Barry asked, his hint of malevolence becoming more of a sour taste.

Each death that Gordon caused was one step closer he took to the Dark, but the grey men wouldn't stay distracted for long, and he needed to be elsewhere very quickly to stop the...

The curse of Uberfield.

Uh oh. No one's written this branch yet. :o

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