By five o’clock that morning, Brown Limper Staffor knew he had found Tyler.
For days now he had been unable to sleep, to even sit down quietly or eat. Forgotten were all other cares of state, forgotten were all other tasks that ordinarily occupied his time. With a wild, intent glare in his eyes, for nearly twenty-four hours a day, he had concentrated only upon closing the trap which had been set. Crime must be punished! A malefactor must be brought to book. The safety and integrity of the state must be given priority. Almost every text he had studied on government, all advice he had been given, proved to him only one thing: he had to get Tyler!
getTylerVictory had begun to beckon with a drone picture he took off the machine at 3:00 AM. He had trouble with these machines. Ever since these
