Multi-Dimensional Merchant System

The process of reducing his suspect pool turned out to be just as complicated as Oliver expected. Three days of intense digging through social media, and joining a handful of memorial groups and pages created because of the church burning, had crossed a number of people off the list.

Unfortunately, his regular fly-byes whenever the drone recharged managed to add a few more people each time.

The first people marked off the list were those too old or disabled that were physically unable to have done it, though some of those he had expected just from watching them through the drone for a few minutes. With the easy eliminations taken care of, the level of work he had to put in for each grew noticeably, often requiring him to cross reference posts on different sites or make phone calls for confirmation. Like the construction worker that spent three days at the hospital on the other side of town because her daughter was sick, or the the truck driver that just got back from a long haul.

The people he didn't have names for took the longest. Oliver spent hours searching through public profiles and the different groups had joined just to find them. Those he could actually find, that is, as there were a few that either kept their profiles private or simply didn't have one.

And reading through countless number of posts and comments... Oliver, not being all that interested in social media himself, was amazed at just how much of their lives people liked to post online. Major life events, complaints about their boss, and even posts and pictures about what they had for lunch! He really didn't understand why people thought everyone wanted to know about the terrible traffic they got stuck in, or the new puppy they just adopted. Though it was a really cute puppy, he admitted to himself.

He was beginning to question his thought that 'any detail could be important'. But enough of them were, so he could only press on.

'Next step is the leg work.' Oliver thought to himself and immediately winced at the horrible accidental pun he made.

Oliver felt a bit like a creep when he started to stalk people at their jobs or spy on them in their homes. The conspiracy theories about government surveillance didn't seem quite as ridiculous as he watched people from afar using the drone. But, as much of an invasion of privacy as it was, he didn't hesitate to do it. He had a goal, a mission, and he intended to see it through. And, thankfully, the police hadn't beaten him to it. Yet.

It was a race, one he intended to win. And he could almost sense the finish line just ahead.

After two weeks, his list had shrunk to just a handful of names... Or rather, just a handful of faces. No matter how hard he searched through social media, he came up with nothing. No posts or comments, not even a hint of a private profile. Other than the pictures he had taken using the drone, he had nothing on these last five people.

And if they turned out to be a dead end... He wasn't sure what he would do. Trying to find the arsonist with nothing to go on would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. He really wasn't surprised the police were still stumped.

“Break it down logically, Oli.” He muttered to himself while pacing in the cheap hotel room. “All you've got is a couple pictures. How do you find these people so you can investigate them?”

With a sigh, he grabbed a soda from the cooler and stared out the window. Lost in thought, he sipped it slowly and just let his gaze wander. Across the nearly empty parking lot, past the burger place nearby, across the grocery story, the corner gas station...

A smile slowly grew on his face as he pulled the binoculars out of the warehouse and looked through them, sweeping his gaze slowly from the gas station to the grocery store.

“Everybody needs groceries, and almost everybody drives.”

One suspect found... And another bust. A high school kid. Apparently he had been grounded for a month, all because his mom found his stash of weed. He hadn't been anywhere besides his home and school since well before the church was burned... Given the mother's very strict, no-nonsense attitude, Oliver believed it. A little overbearing, but she seemed like a mom that really cared.

Failure after failure at finding the arsonist, combined with the feeling of melancholy Oliver got from being reminded of his own mother, had him sitting in a sports bar as the sun started to set. Perched on a stool at the end of the bar, he ignored the slightly run-down surroundings as he bit into a surprisingly good bacon cheeseburger. The place didn't look like much, but at least the guy running it knew how to make a burger.

Plus, a burger and a beer was a decent distraction from his own memories. At least for the moment.

More surprising was the group that came in before he finished eating. He didn't expect the place to get much business on a Tuesday night, but it was apparently a local hangout for at least one group of people. With a glance over his shoulder, his idle curiosity instantly morphed into pointed interest. Almost suspicion.

Early twenties, white guys. One was bald, another had a fairly impressive beard. A fairly average looking group of guys, just hanging out and grabbing a couple beers while they play pool. But their tattoos...

A viking axe, the viking compass, even a skaldenmet... Maybe these guys were just proud of their viking ancestry. Or maybe they were another group of white supremacists that misappropriated Norse mythology.

Oliver couldn't really be sure either way, but it warranted looking in to.

He kept an eye on their reflection in the mirror behind the bar while pretending to watch the sports highlights played on the tv. Despite the suspicion he felt, everything appeared completely mundane. They played pool, drank some beers, and snacked on some hot wings. Even their conversations were normal. What happened at work, how their favorite sports team was doing, trash talking each other... Just another group of guys.

Until another one joined them. A face Oliver recognized. One of his four remaining suspects.

Black hair, blue eyes, medium height and average build. In the picture Oliver took of him, the guy was wearing a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans. He looked like a college kid, just checking things out. But when he walked in to the bar wearing a tank top, Oliver could see tattoos across his chest and upper arms similar to the rest of the group.

Oliver paid his tab as he considered what to do next. Follow his suspect to gather more information on him? Maybe take pictures of his friends first to try and dig up info on them. He had learned their first names while sitting there, but if they were staying off social media like their friend-

“Hey buddy! You wanna play some pool?”

Realizing there was no one else they could be talking to, Oliver turned to face the group. Most of them just looked like they were waiting for his answer... But baldy, who Oliver had learned was named Lewis, glared at him with what was obviously distrust.

Oliver thought about it for a second. He hadn't planned to actually approach anyone. It increased the level of risk and, if they weren't the culprit, would raise a lot of questions when he inevitably disappeared. But it was also an opportunity.

An acceptable risk, he decided. Offering the group a friendly smile, he hopped off the stool. “Loser buys the next round?”

Three games, three losses, and three rounds of beer. Part of Oliver felt like he should have gotten some pointers from Polina on one of their dates. But, since the games were close, he shrugged it off. He wasn't the type to get a woman drunk and take advantage, but getting these assholes drunk to dig for information? He could definitely do that.

And they were definitely assholes.

With enough alcohol in their system, the group loosened up enough for his suspicions to grow. It started slow, with a few racist comments slipping out when they talked about certain people they worked with or knew. But as the night wore on, he had to resist the urge to do something violent. They were clearly racists... but that didn't necessarily mean they had done anything wrong.

“Man, we been shooting the shit half the night and you ain't said a lot Oscar. What brought you to Sparrow? What kinda work do you do?”

“Ah, lay off him. Don't mind Lewis. He's always an ass!”

Oliver chuckled as he took his shot. “It's cool, man. It doesn't really bother me. A large part of why I came here was because of work anyway. I work in distribution, though what that really means is that I spend most of my time packing up shit before it gets sent off to wherever the fuck it goes.”

Peyton, the guy Oliver was investigating originally, leaned casually against the pool table as they spoke. “If that's the large part, what's the small part? It ain't in your pants, is it?”

Oliver laughed along with the group at the childish humor. “Nah, my last job went kinda sideways and I figure it was time to relocate.”

“Went sideways how?”

He watched as his opponent took his shot and thought about how he wanted to respond for a moment. With a shrug, he gave them a slightly altered version of the truth. “I got jumped by a group of thugs and they beat the hell out of me. One of them even shot me.”

At their surprised looks, Oliver turned and pulled up his shirt to show off the partially healed graze wound. “He was the bitch of the group, trying to prove himself or something. His hands were shaking so bad he nearly dropped the gun. I was kinda lucky that it wasn't worse, and that they took off right after. I figured that was a good time for me to get out of dodge, you know?”

“Shit, man. That's crazy. And fuck those guys. Fucking low life-”

Oliver struggled not to grit his teeth at slurs being spewed and nodded along in pretend agreement.

“That's why you need to be packing, man. Somebody comes at you like that, you drop them.”

Oliver turned to Peyton and shrugged, his brow furrowed in mock frustration. “Would if I could man. I got caught with a little weed when I was fifteen. The judge was bumping for some position and decided he needed a boost to his numbers or something. They tried me as an adult and hit me with a felony charge. Seriously fucked up my life, you know?”

A thoughtful look flashed across Peyton's face before he responded cautiously. “Maybe we could help-”

As Lewis cut him off with a hushed argument, Oliver smiled internally. He couldn't be completely sure these were the culprits, but he was definitely leaning that way.

And if they weren't, it wouldn't hurt to see what sort of guns he could get from them and then move on. Being better armed and prepared was still on of his goals, after all.