Meanwhile, Wiggles McGee has finally brought Paul back to Freddy and Nightstand, just in time for Freddy and Nightstand to force Paul to pay the bills again.

"PAUL! YOU'RE IN BIG TROUBLE, BUT FIRST YOU NEED TO PAY RENT!" Freddy exclaims, cracking his knuckles. Wiggles excuses himself and leaves before things can potentially get messy, and Paul begins fishing around his wallet.

"Uh…how much do I need to pay, exactly?" Paul asks.

"Well, between the interest rate and the fact that we had to hire that guy to get you back for us, I'd say…500 dollars will do the trick." Nightstand says, putting on glasses and punching random numbers into a calculator to look smarter.

"Um…oh man. Hang on, do you guys accept M.U.? I only have like, 50 dollars left in dollars."

"Well, that all depends on how much M.U. we're talking about here."

"I've got 6300 on me."

"Yeah, that'll do."

"How much?"

"All of it, and also those fifty dollars."

"But that's all of my money!" Paul whines.

"Okay, and? Gimme." Nightstand holds out his hand, and Paul grumbles under his breath, before emptying out his wallet into Nightstand's palm. Nightstand goes to hand Wiggles the fifty dollars as payment, but sees Wiggles already leaving, and decides that he can just hang on to the money himself, and pay Wiggles only if he directly asks for it.

Out on the streets of Costa Brava, a hushed crowd has gathered to watch a legendary Tourist Staredown, which Anti and Bermuda have initiated. This fabled event happens only on very rare occasions in this city, and nobody is quite sure how exactly a Tourist Staredown is won, but what everyone does know is that it's serious business. Anti and Bermuda stare each other down intently for what seems like several minutes, stretching into hours, stretching into days, but in reality, the whole Tourist Staredown only lasts around thirty seconds. After this, Bermuda decides that he has important triangles to be looking at, so he walks away, forfeiting the Staredown and granting Anti the victory, and with it the greatest prize of all: dignity.

"So, tell me, if you're not all that attached to the Order, why do you still insist on not telling me any more about this 'Comm' guy? You know we wouldn't have to kill him to deal with him, we could just get him to quit, one way or another." Cybr stares through the darkness at the computer screen, as a ":/" emote appears on it.

"You've read the files enough to know that it isn't that simple. You can't just 'quit' the Order." responds the voice from the computer.

"Well, why do you care? If this guy goes down, the Order might as well be gone. He's basically the only thing holding it together at this point."

"I think you underestimate how resilient these guys are. They won't stop until they've exhausted every single resource they have."

"Well then, it seems even more clear that that guy needs to be dealt with."

"What does he have to do with this? Oh wait, not that that guy, sorry, thought you were talking about someone else."

Cybr raises an eyebrow at this, but doesn't question it, since he's pretty sure he won't get any proper answers anyways.

"Look, the WCL is going to do a big mission soon, but I won't be attending. After that, though, they're probably going to turn their attention back to the Order, and one way or another, this Comm guy is going to have to get involved. So you can either reveal who he is on your own terms, or have us find out our own way."

"Right, right, whatever. I'll see if I can do anything."

The computer returns to its inert state, and Cybr shrugs and resumes working on his main computer.

A computer chair spins around, and the figure sitting in it meets eyes with East.

"Alright, I'm done talking to that guy, what the hell did you want?"

"What's a good synonym for 'says'?" East says. He's carrying with him an enormous tome of comical proportions, though by the way he's holding it, it seems like it weighs next to nothing.

"Exclaims." Squidd audibly states from the other side of the window, muffled through the glass.

"Nah, nah, don't listen to him, he's not a writer. A good one is 'ejaculates'."

"Right, right, I'll keep that in mind. Anyways, I've been working on my memoir here in my off time, but the storyline's gotten a bit stale. I think we should stir things up a bit. Maybe get a fight started or something. Conflict always makes for good stories." East gestures at the book.

"How the actual fuck do you expect us to start a fight down here? There's a population of like, seven." The figure turns back around to double-check on their computer, before facing East once more. "Five. I just checked."

"So…two versus two, with me as the ref?"

"Sure, just go and get Sans to agree, and I'm all in. If you want to write a good story, why do you insist on having it take place somewhere as boring as this?"

"Because it's a memoir, and I live here."

"Just go and play with that slinky or something. That's probably the most fun you can manage around here."

East sighs and leaves the room, walking up the stairs back out into East Virginia. With East gone, the figure returns to their computer and puts on headphones, and a shark-like Stand dives into the machine, disappearing into the screen with a ripple. After a few seconds, the figure begins to speak.

"Heyyyy, buddy, sorry to contact you on such short notice, but we really need to figure something out before these crime goons start looking for you." The figure states. "Yeah, I know I could've just contacted you normally, but if I use Surfing in Cyberspace, like I'm doing now, it's impossible for this to be listened in on, which you should know all too well."

"Hi doing now, I'm Dad!" says Dad. "Are ya winning?"

"Oh my fucking god, Dad, how many times do I have to tell you, there's no game to be winning at. I'm just fucking TALKING. And this is a private conversation, so make like a tree and get the fuck out of my room."

"Hi just fucking TALKING, I'm Dad!"

The figure lets out a long, exasperated groan, and just keeps their mouth shut until Dad disappears from the room.

"Anyways, as I was saying. This Cybr guy I've been talking to, or 13325, or whatever you wanna call him, he's trouble. Seems like he's intent on having your head, and every time I change the topic, he eventually loops it back to this. At this point, a confrontation is inevitable, so I guess the best I can tell you to do is to be alert. Maybe bring some guys to help guard your place. Like, Archeo comes to mind, he'd be pretty good at stalling at the very least…oh, come on, are you for real? I feel like your life is more important than your anonymity. Whatever, whatever, if you insist on doing this solo, I can't force your hand. Just…be careful. Bye."