Sandman shook his head slightly. He almost felt it was a cover. Why, specifically, did Raven want Sandman to enter his dreams? He didn't normally question the intent of his current clients, but this was one especially strange request, and he'd had plenty of strange requests. "You do realize I can, instead, put you to sleep with my sand?" He asked, opening the computer and pulling a black cord and small plastic-cased rectangle out of the box's side compartment. He plugged the USB into the side, turning the computer on and typing in a password. The screen went black again, then fuzzy, and when Sandman pressed two buttons at the back of the small pack, the screen turned dark. When he took the dime-sized camera out of his pocket, a shaky image of the hotel room appeared and, when he angled it, so did Raven. "There we are. Live feed."

He turned to Raven, taking a chain tipped with a silver snap from under his shirt and snapping the camera to it. "Now then, all I need is an address for Mister... Piaz... And I'll be off." His trip would be swift---he would ride the wind of the cars, the funneled breezes through tall buildings and footfalls and litter. And while he did, the camera would remain fuzzy as it would be broken and carried like the rest of him.