Toby Determined was surprised to be woken from his bed that Sunday morning. Of course, his bed was actually his underwear drawer inside the Gossiper's office, and he was used to being stirred by snow, rain, hail, thunder…

Not by a cup of Breakfast tea and the sound of heavy building equipment.

"Oh Marbles! This is it! This is the end! They've discovered the labels I tore off of those mattresses! It's all over! I'm sorry, Mattress King! I'm sorry!"

"Toby. Toby, for pity's sake, wake up, you little goblin!"

"...Mr. Northwest?! Oh no, please, don't try and take my pancreas!" Toby scrambled out of his drawer in fear, his kitten-print jammies almost being soiled in terror as he hid behind his desk. The wrath of Preston Northwest was the only thing he feared more than the acne-ridden overlord of nighttime comfort.

"I'm not here for your internal organs, Determined. What the hell would I do with them? They're probably as malformed as your spine."

"The doctor says my spine is special!"

"Eugh. Look, I'm here to tell you our contract is over, Toby. With interest."

"Y-you don't want me to be your PR sla- partner anymore?"

"No, Toby. My daughter has convinced me it was an… unethical move."

Toby blinked and smiled; at least, as far as his elongated underbite could smile. He knew this meant that the story he had handed to the Northwest heir had done its job. It wasn't quite the scoop he was waiting for - but as far as a compromise went, he was happy to accept it. He wasn't one for revenge, anyway.

Not since the last time he'd developed a grudge against a raccoon on Southern Street over a second-hand slice of pizza.

"So w-what's the interest?" Toby stammered, beginning to become increasingly excited.

"We're rebuilding your damned office, Toby." Northwest replied, his stiff upper lip barely flexing as he spoke, the Northwest Building Company's foremen and crews beginning to swarm the minuscule, draughty structure.

The head foreman, one Albert M. Sternumhammer, was particularly perturbed by proceedings. He had, after all, consulted on the majority of Preston Northwest's building projects, and usually understood the self-rewarding motivations behind each.

He was a short, porcine fellow with a teardrop shaped head and an ill-fitted suit, punctuated with a comically small bowler hat perched atop of his tiny brow. His pencil moustache twisted as he inspected the crooked, wooden building, tugging on his uncomfortably tight shirt collar as he went to work taking notes and drinking copious amounts of Earl Grey Tea.

"Oh my goodness! It's like all of my dreams have come truuuue!" the diminutive reporter cried out loud, embracing Preston as if he was a cardboard cutout of Sandra Jimenez.

Albert balked and backed away slightly. He wasn't familiar with the disgusting little reporter and was somewhat concerned he might be next to receive a sweaty, fetid cuddle from the little gnome creature with whiskers.

Preston grimaced and pushed the little man away, punctuated with a decent squeeze of hand sanitiser. "Don't push your luck, Determined. I'm doing this to keep you damned well quiet, do I make myself clear?"

"A unwritten NDA! This is the most exciting day of my life!"

"Whatever keeps those pyjamas on, Determined. Just… get out of my sight while we build this damned thing, would you?"

"Yes Sir-ee!" Toby beamed. "Let me just go get changed!"

"Be quick." The millionaire huffed.

"Yes, Sir!" Toby replied enthusiastically, ripping off his pyjamas to reveal his usual day to day outfit of tweeds and bow tie. That answered a few too many questions about the bizarre little journalist's scent, and none of them were particularly pleasant.

Preston's eyebrows raised. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, before twisting on his heel and stepped out of the office, leaving the little man to grab his valuables and depart the worksite of the new Gossiper offices.

"Get on with it, men. I want this toothpick shack replaced by bricks and mortar in twelve hours." He shouted, clapping his hands together. "Money's no object, so just get it done properly, and quickly."

The chief foreman twisted his lip and eyed the plans with suspicion as he stepped behind his boss, looking around the ramshackle newspaper office with increasing confusion. There was no natural resource, no oil, gold or coal in the surveyed area, no valuables to steal, no potential insurance scams…

He leaned in and whispered as soon as Toby was out of earshot. "I don't get it, Mr. Northwest. What do you get from this?"

"That little man knows more than he appears. Think of this as a colossal bribe." Preston replied in a hushed tone.

"Like the airforce base?"

"Like the airforce base."

The foreman nodded sincerely and wrote 'Important bribe' on the diagram in his hands with sincerity. That, at least, was a language that the Northwest Construction Company was used to dealing with.

Preston looked up at the portrait of Tobias Determined upon the wall and almost immediately froze, as those oil-paint eyes pierced him furiously. That famous, steely eyed look of the forgotten reporter seemingly reached right down into the bottom of him. Preston was not a superstitious man - surprisingly, considering how much of the paranormal he had encountered - but, for only a moment, he felt like he was being watched.

Watched and judged.

He huffed and left the office without another word. Perhaps it was just as well...