For the past several days, we at S.A.U.C.E. have put our individual projects on hold to investigate the disappearance of Michel Nolastname.

Our most respected venerated elder had scheduled for today a formal discussion on the divinatory symbolism of caroc decks from the Renaissance and its uses in crime prevention, or maybe he meant Cluedo. His scribblings on the calendar read “To death neither caroc nor clueless pack read.” Perhaps he wrote chaos rather than caroc. His hand has been less than coherent these past few years. Perhaps it was carrot. The discussion has, needless to say, been cancelled.

Ignoring the ever-cautious Julen Ibarra’s protestations, treasurer Sorina Jones official reported Michel Nolastname missing. Mr. Ibarra says “You wanna bring our enemies down on all of us? You want our… our You-Know-What making every newspaper and tabloid the world over? Never trust the pigs!” Ibarra’s concerns are valid. We cannot risk revealing our greatest secrets. And yet, Michel Nolastname is a human being who needs our help and protection. If the police can help at all, it would eat at our consciences not to take that chance.

Anais Hershel, our expert in all nautical imagery in tarot, is forbidden to approach the authorities, though she, of course, must answer their questions should they ask. “You ****ers don’t trust me now? I’m too ****ing, what, aggressive? They’ve got guns, or nightsticks or whatever the **** they’ve got on their belts and you think they’ll **** themselves over my ****ing language? **** you. I have every right to help find Michel.”

Danny Delaire and I travel around the city every day, posting flyers:


[Michel Nolastname’s real name, or the name we are fairly certain is both his and real.]



[Michel Nolastname’s only non-blurry appearance in a photograph, and it’s a photograph of a drawing. Unfortunately, he is looking away from the artist. Perhaps some helpful soul will recognize the back of his head.]


[telephone numbers, etc.]

It saddens me that I am unable to relate the most relevant details from the flyer to this (secret emergency alternative) blog, but that would publicly link his S.A.U.C.E. identity with the one he uses in the world outside the doors of our headquarters. I will not add to whatever dangers he may already face.

Crystal Balque climbs onto the rooftops of the city when she believes none but her friends can see her, and there she sits with a pair of binoculars, and a bottle of Nolastname’s favourite catchpenny brandy to lure him out.

Come home, Mr. Nolastname. Your friends at S.A.U.C.E. are sick with worry.