Goldie's house was the oddest thing the Porters had ever seen.
Instead of a fireplace, a primitive fire-pit sat buried in the floor, surrounded by what appeared to be chairs with the legs cut off.
From the low ceiling hung flower pots and rusty wind-chimes. But the walls were among the strangest: Goldie had apparently vandalized her own house, streaks of bright neon and entire walls filled with two doubling words: Operation Iron.
Paisley pointed this out. "What's 'Operation Iron'?" she asked. Goldie's eyes narrowed. "Something the council of the Lower Levels concocted a while back."
Arden stared at Goldie. "There isn't a council for the Lower Levels." She said slowly. Goldie smiled sadly.
"Yes, well, maybe not an official one. Operation Iron is- actually, I'll let the council tell you. I'll take you to them."
Goldie led them to the door.
"I still don't trust you, but I gotta ask; do you know anything about this Operation Iron?" Arden asked Victoria, who replied, "I've heard whispering's of it, but nothing more. I'm in the dark as much as you are."
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