“There’s Old Blunderbuss, just the other night he accused Roger of cheating at a game of cards. Buss nearly ran him through with his saber. Fortunately, Andre was able to subdue him and convince him to return to his room for the night. I suppose Andre didn’t want to oversee another funeral.” -Billy Stevenson

Old Blunderbuss resides on the Fourth Floor. Room : D5.

It appeared to be a case of dementia for the oldest tenant in Henrietta's apartments.

Old Blunderbuss, as he was called, was convinced that an invasion of the Germans into his fortress was imminent. He had been in fact stock piling weapons and munitions for some time. Not to mention booby trapping his entire apartment, as well as having a cannon at the ready to fire from his window at the first sign of a cavalry charge down the street towards the building.

Whispers among the newer tenants wondered if Old Blunderbuss should be committed, if not the very least find a next of kin that would take him in. However, the older tenants who knew the old veteran would hear nothing of it, insisting he served a vital purpose in their indoor community.

One day a young German man who had been swooning Madam Henrietta Guenier, had indeed caught the eye of Old Blunderbuss.

The old tenant did not say a single word, yet like any predator in nature bided his time, watching the young mans every move.

As the night turned to the late hours, finished with Henrietta, the young man slowly made his way out of the apartment through the Lobby.

Before he could finish his exit a well polished saber rested on his shoulder. "You're heavier than you look Monsieur." Blunderbuss addressed him coldly, keeping a comfortable distance behind the young man.

"I don't know what you mean...!" The young man was incredulous.

"You very well know what I mean!" Shouted Blunderbuss, alarming a few tenants who tended to their own conversations and games, not to mention rousing a few others from their sleep.

Grabbing onto the collar of the young mans coat before he could escape Henrietta cried from above. "Let him go or I'll have you removed from this place!”

"That's right old man. . . You heard the woman!”

The young man made a point of pulling himself harshly away from Blunderbuss' grasp only to drop a large purse from the inside of his coat, that spilled the sum of everyone's rent for the month.

The young man turned pale white to see the money spilled out onto the floorboards, and a disquieting silence followed.

Old Blunderbuss simply smiled in reply, using the blade of his saber to gentle pick up the loose bag of money. The edge of the blade soon found its way to the young man’s nose. “I think you dropped something. . . Should you care to take it Monsieur?”

Henrietta watched from above at a loss for words, her knuckles white as her hands tightened on the railing.

Old Blunderbuss is concerned he doesn't have enough gunpowder in case of an invasion. The walls of his apartment are decorated with various strategies, for inside and outside the building, not to mention the hidden nooks and crawl spaces for the children if the last resort should arrive.

It would no doubt be the only solution if he could not acquire gunpowder for his weapons. It was harder to come by since the newer weapons only needed bullets, which appealed to most military men, however not to Old Blunderbuss, a shrewd military man, of careful planning, and precise action.

Another thing that gravely concerned him, the thought of a spy among the tenants ranks. He needed someone he could trust, someone who could sneak in supplies, not to mention a strong back.

Peering out of his apartment as fate would allow Andre Berkshire was seen walking by.

"He's here!"

Blunderbuss schemed in his mind as he looked down towards Andre.

The boy was always out of town and getting into trouble. Though it was seldom any fault of his own, he simply wanted for attention. Blunderbuss further reasoned to himself that Andre was young and his heart, his soul demanded for an adventure, of some kind, any kind.

Blunderbuss grinned under his beard and gave a hard grunt stirring the boy’s attention.

"Andre... Andre Berkshire I presume?"