The tall lanky man walked through the dancing crowd.  They all see him and give him little thought; he may be in an old black suit, hood and leather plague mask, he is just another one of the congregation at a goth club.  He pays them no heed either way and walks to the back stairs that lead to a door marked PRIVATE.  The massive man at the door opens it and allows him to enter.

"Ahh...Doctore Dark.  I take it you have news of my goods?  Or do you have an update on my meta pest?"  Damian rests in a large stuffed high back chair amongst the oddities of his office.

In a raspy voice, the cloaked figure replies, "I have news on both.  I have tracked your goods through a few hands and to now.  Most knew not what they had and thought it an antiquity and are of little consiquence.  Until its final owner, a Andrew Woodrift, they all left if sealed and boxed.  Mr. Woodrift knew, protected it, but chose not to unseal the bottle based on his diary.  He died and his estate split up much of his antiques.  He was foolish and had not protected the bottle better.  I'm tracked it here to Chicago."

"Hahaha...providence works in funny ways.  Where is it now?"

"It is in a collection at a museum.  The collection was split and shared, so I will have to keep looking.  I should know soon."

"And my pest?"

"He was captured and now caged.  It may make a stir as I found he had ties to CPD and others, but it should pass.  I'll keep him, for now.  It is a minor thing.  When can I expect the second payment?""

"I'll have it transferred to you today.  Thank you.  I await your final report."

The Doctore turns and leaves without comment.  As he walks out of the club, he turns down the alley in the direction of the deeper shadows and seems to disappear.