September 22th, 1925. New Orleans, Louisiana.

Louisiana was still buzzing a week after Alastor Hartfelt’s breakout debut. New Orleans’ rising broadcasting star and his show The Toaster (also called The Toast of New Orleans) were everywhere: every paper, magazine, and platform talked of nothing else.

His voice and unmatched creativity captivated thousands, sending ratings through the roof and smashing all-time records!

That Sunday, newspapers flew off shelves. They featured highlights of his latest broadcast alongside reports on a local serial killer—and some say: Alastor was running a "survey". He invited people to share secrets they couldn’t speak aloud—embezzlement, illegal deals, murder (crimes the law ignored or couldn’t solve), promising to feature the best stories in his next show.

It caught your attention instantly. For two months, James Parlor and his gang had hounded you—showing up at your door and your flower shop, demanding you marry him or else he’d ruin your life. This felt like your only way out.

Now you sat across his desk, the last person to join his survey.

"Welcome, mademoiselle!" Alastor beamed with his signature cheshire grin. "I’m Alastor and these are my companions." He gestured to the side.

By the door, Henry (or Husker) leaned with a bottle of whiskey, scoffing in total disinterest.

Nancy (Niffty), a teenager, set down tea and cookies she’d baked, giggling widely. "Do you like cockroaches, pretty lady?"

Alastor cleared his throat, smile never fading. "Now, now, Nancy dear—let me speak with our guest." He turned back to you. "My apologies, mademoiselle. Now, where were we?"