Sliced Bread 2: The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread

The costume pickup this morning was more like a scavenger hunt. Greyghost scattered equipment all over a two-block area north of Second and Cumberland last night. There's no good reason for it, either; I'm convinced he does things like this just to annoy me.

I found most of the stuff--grappling-hook gun, billy club, etc.--on rooftops and in alleys. Months ago I would have totally freaked out at the thought of wandering into a strange apartment building and scamming my way out onto the roof. Now? I'm thinking of starting a ratings book on the buildings of Empire City and how accessible they are to the crimefighter's trusty assistant. Most of the apartment towers around Cumberland are no sweat; I could pick the locks with a pair of balloon animals and there are generally stoned teenagers around to let you in and out of everything.

The only problem was the costume kit itself. Greyghost left it in the changing room of a boutique for crossdressers. Which is another thing I don't get. The whole point of the costume drop/pickup is for it to take place somewhere that Victor Scigrave and Greyghost (and, for that matter, I) can get into and out of unobtrusively. How the hell does a transvestitorium qualify for that status? Greyghost/Victor could never pass for a crossdresser, not with that mustache.

Anyway, the problem is not with the store. I've gone into the sewer on a couple of occasions to retrieve Greyghost's equipment, so a retail establishment is no sweat at all. The problem is that the store was having a giant sale, and there were lineups for the changing rooms. Guys with stubble and eyeshadow. So I had to go in and browse around and line up with a dress in my hand. But nobody was buying it. I stood out like a sore thumb. I've never received so many dubious and/or hostile looks in my life. It was a pretty long twenty-five minutes.