SPPA Chronicles (Sarre & Nix)

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"Yeah.. like Troy..." He had always thought that was the dumbest reason to start a war. He mulled over her question for a minute, pausing under one of the flickering street lights. "I think it is on the part of the Lycans and Vampires. I couldn't tell you about the Shifters or Witches. Maybe if fifty or sixty years everyone will stop acting like spoiled children and accept it." He wasn't exactly going to hold his breath waiting for it though.

Xyne tugged his gloves on a bit better, making a small face. "I'm honestly more of a cashew person but coffee? Coffee is evil. I am convinced it is a sinister plot to make everyone an addict and then deprive them all of it and watch them suffer." He could not stand the taste of coffee, especially the weak watery stuff they always had at Headquarters. Lil's tea was infinitely better. "I can't believe they didn't even tell you what shift you would be on. But, since they didn't.... My patrol route is usually the Bi-Level Market, then I walk to the The Second Circle bar, and then I have to make a patrol at Adrian's. I've been pulling a lot of doubles lately, with so many gone.." The Bi-Level Market was a massive flea market that catered to all the races. Despite being just inside the Northern District, it was technically neutral territory. Every race had stands there, and like the Bar, it was a prime place for fights to break out.

Pointing at a large building across the street, Xyne started explaining. "That's the meeting hall." It looked like an old warehouse, with dented doors and a couple of boarded up windows. A placard with the clan's name hung proudly in one of the well lit areas. "They are not going to be very happy to see us, especially since we don't have much to tell them yet. I can talk to the Pack Leader if you want to try and pin down the one that called it in, Allister."
 
Eleanor wanted to mention that the Greeks attacked Troy for political conquest and resource access, and they had simply used Helen as a spark, but instead of letting herself ramble on about obscure history gotten from questionable sources, she listened to Tristis. "Maybe the SPPA should just drop the detective work and start acting like an organisation of Martin Luther Kings. Give speeches and stuff," she chuckled. "I mean, we're the strongest of the weakest, aren't we?"

She had to try her best to resist bursting out in shrieking, witchlike, laughter at his ridiculous proposition about that beautiful liquid energy. "That's a fair argument," she said, after pretending to suppress a coughing fit. "Maybe you just haven't known anyone that can grow it. You get it green and roast it at home, and grind fresh in the morning. The sushi here might be amazing, but this place lacks good coffee."

The route, she told herself, she would commit to memory once they walked it. Despite prefering a more static lifestyle, she had an excellent sense of direction; so long as she had the space in her mind to become aware of her surroundings. The market, however, she'd been to. Who hadn't? It was the best place to find practically anything if you had the time to browse. They had farmers, private merchants, craftsmen, and chefs, all for cheaper than supermarkets and malls. Of course, the risk was getting caught in a brawl, but it was easy to see one brewing and get the hell out of the way before it started.

The warehouse wasn't too much of a far cry from what she had initially expected. She had been trying to be optimistic, but her tenacious pessimism had proven true once again.

The smell of a sweaty bar drifted outside into the cool air through open windows, mingled with the smell of damp fur. "Sure," she said, "Know anything about what he looks like?"
 
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Another soft chuckle was his reply. "I don't think I'd be very good at that... but you could always mention it to the Commander. I think it would be very entertaining to see some of our... charming office personnel giving speeches in the various districts." In fact, Xyne would almost be willing to pay money to see that. He had absolutely no respect for any of them, half of them were to soft to handle their job, and the others just didn't want to waste their precious time to try.

He shook his head. "Nothing can make coffee better. I've tried it in many different places made many different ways. I will stick with tea, thank you." Well, if a love of the disgusting drink ended up as Eleanor's only flaw, then that was much better than some. The last person the Commander had tried to stick him with, just two days ago, literally broke down in tears at the sight of a broken arm from a brawl in the Neutral District.

Surprisingly, Xyne grinned at her. "Not a clue, but we'll just get the Pack Master to bring him to us." He words were sly, and he actually looked like he was going to enjoy this. "Just remember something. I am not a conventional person. I'm not going to be all sympathetic and polite, because that is not going to work here, but that doesn't mean I don't care about our case or the victim." That had been the reason the partner he was assigned immediately after Jakins, had requested a transfer. She had said she couldn't work with someone that didn't care.

Xyne knocked twice on the door, before opening it and walking in casually. Inside the building was a completely different atmosphere. There were wooden floors, and a polished bar in one corner, with several tables scattered about. It was much cleaner than realistically expected, with a little over half the tables filled with people. One woman was sobbing, while most of the rest looked furious. The instant the door closed behind Eleanor, a large man was standing directly in front of them. Long brown hair, pulled loosely in a tail, a wicked looking scar running down his right cheek and neck. "I'm Packmaster Shawn McDonald." Sharp blue eyes studied them both. "Figure out who killed my mate yet?" The question was blunt, rude and practically bellowed.

Xyne smiled. "Not yet. I'm Captain Tristis and this is Officer Baker." A motion to Eleanor. "I need to talk to you and she needs to speak to Allister McDonald." His tone perfectly matched the volatile wolf's, except his was at a normal volume.

Three growls came from across the room, along with a good fifteen shouted comments about them looking in the wrong place.

Xyne, looked unimpressed. "Look, we're trying to do our jobs here. To do that, I need to know about the pack meeting last night, and she," A motion to Eleanor, "needs to ask Allister some questions that the other Officer didn't know to ask. We're the best at what we do, so shut up and let us do it."

Shawn smirked. "Fair enough... He will be delivered to us for justice right?"

"Of course." Xyne shrugged, that was pretty much a standard practice.

Shawn snapped his fingers and pointed at a younger blond near the bar. "That's Allister, he'll cooperate."
 
"So you're the bad cop," Eleanor grinned. "I guess I'll have to be the good one. Fine by me."

She stood politely as they talking, repressing the urge to wince when a sharp drop of cold saliva was flicked onto her cheek by the pack leader's violent, gruff, voice. She couldn't help but also notice how shallow their growls sounded without the anatomy required for deep guttural one. They were real werewolves, but in their human forms, their voices sounded perfectly normal. (Note 1: Most werewolves appear to be shitty actors.)

"Thank you," she said to Shawn, when she was pointed to Allister. She could feel the eyes of the entire room drill into her back as she walked across the room, the only one moving. When she got to Allister, she sat down next to him in an empty spot. There were two others near him, and they seemed startled, looking at the chair as if they should have protected it. (Note 2: Werewolves are not used to friendliness?)

"Hello," she said. "So you're Allister." Behind her, the pack leader and her partner were beginning to speak as well, and the deathly silence of the room was lifted into a sombre melody of harsh whispers and growling.

"Yes," the man in front of her said. "I'm Allister. I called." The two friends, instead of helping him, turned to whisper to each other. Eleanor could have probably picked them up if she tried (Note 3: Werewolves are really bad at whispering), but Allister was studying her now, so she studied him back.

"The people you talked to before weren't very competent, were they?" she grinned.

"I wouldn't know... I don't talk to people much. Human people, that is," Allister murmured. Unlike the others, he had a shy disposition, but even so, he spoke as if there were a frog in his throat. She noted his ears swiveling, trying to catch what his companions were whispering about. Instead of letting him, she kept talking. "Well, they didn't really give us anything," she said, "so I guess they didn't ask you for much. How about you just start with telling me all about your relationship?"

He was reserved in his description, but that was fine. She managed to acquire all the basic information the local police should have already gotten, and he was such a terrible liar that it was easy to figure out what had gone on.

The body's name was Luke Hunt, and he had apparently bullied Allister for nearly all of his life, toting him around almost like a servant. "Cleaning and stuff," Allister had said, and she didn't push further because of the look on his face, and the way he was trying not to peek at his two eavesdropping friends. That night, he had simply shown up at Luke's because he had demanded it earlier that day. Upon discovering a body, he had called both the SPPA and the local police and waited for them to arrive. Eleanor could imagine him frantically dialing on his phone, and then cowering in the hallway until someone arrived.

"Why SPPA?" she asked him, afraid that the other, better, lines of questioning might shut him down completely. "We monitor inter-racial disputes. Who did you think it was?"

He looked down at the ground. "Well, we hate everyone so I'm sure everyone hates us," he said. She first translated it to, "I was panicked and I needed to dial things," then she wondered if something else was making him hesitate. His friends were still whispering and watching, though.

"Anything else?" she asked, hoping that she could squeeze more out.

His eyes shifted again, trying not to turn backwards. "Not really," he said.

Damn it.

She put down her book, put a hand on the table, and leaned forward a little. "You've been really helpful," she said. "And, I know this probably isn't the case, but you kind of made yourself look really guilty. You gave yourself a pretty strong motive, no alibi... It's like you're trying to make yourself suspicious."
 
The Packmaster, with his strong stance and rough accent, Australian possibly, glared daggers at his pack before directing his look at Xyne. "What do you want to know?"

After a glance at Eleanor, and keeping his voice low, Xyne continued in the same low tone. "I need to know about the meeting. I don't care what you talked about, or what plans were made. What time did it start, and when did it end? Who did our victim talk to, and was anyone absent?"

"Meeting always starts at seven, ends 'round three. We toast the pack first before getting down to business. Luke was late, but he had Border patrol, so that was normal." Shawn growled slightly. "Only ones missin' were Nic and Paul. They had patrol. It's Pack McDonald's week to secure the East Border." Shawn appeared proud now. "Luke didn't talk much, but we figured he was tired from patrol."

Xyne frowned. It sounded like an average pack meeting, that could happen during any new moon. "Packmaster... can you tell me the exact place he was patroling?"
 
Behind them, Eleanor could hear the other two sniggering. This time, Allister wheeling around. "Shut up!" he growled, loudly enough for most of the others around them to hear. For a split second, he sounded and looked like a real werewolf. Then the gentle laughter became more widespread. A quarter of the entire room. Allister shrunk, then turned to face Eleanor again.

"With all due respect, Officer," one of them said mockingly, "You're an idiot. Look at his scrawny arms!"

Around them, the laughter became louder. Even people from the other side of the room turned to look. Allister seemed to shrink, like a puppy with its tail between its legs. This guy wasn't just Luke's runt, he was everyone's.

"Excuse me," he said. "C- Can I go?"

"Like you're trying," Eleanor said, shaking her head. Seeing his discomfort though, she smiled and added, "But it wouldn't be suspicious if you let me come with you."

Allister practically jumped out of his seat, "Ok," he said, "Let's go."
 
Shawn held up one hand, turned and literally roared at the rest of the pack. "SHADDUP!" Instantly, all the laughter stopped. "Is this how we mourn one of our own? With laughter and disrespect? Shut yer traps before I do it for you!"

It honestly took every single bit of self discipline, and the years of Lil's manners, to keep the smile off Xyne's face. It amused him to no end to see a whole room of fierce Lycans cowering, from one person. He saw Eleanor and Allister moving toward the door, and figured she had everything under control. "As I was saying, where exactly was he patroling?"

Shawn glared one last time before glowering at Xyne. "He was watching the border to the Fire Coven." Shawn practically spat the last two words and Xyne completely understood. The Fire Coven was easily the most disliked of the eight covens. They were aggressive, and despised everyone that wasn't in their coven. Their territory was small, tucked away in the Northwest corner of the Neutral District, to it was a relatively small area to look over. "Packmaster, one last question. Other than the usual border troubles, have there been any strange attacks here lately?"

That question, earned a puzzled look. "Not here, no. There was some big mess down in the Shifter district last week... Don't know the details, but nothing here." It was plain, that Shawn didn't care one bit for anything happening with the Shifters, not that Xyne really blamed him. He avoided the Shifter District like the plague. "Thank you for your time." That was his one token attempt at being polite, which he admittedly was rather bad at.
 
What happened to Allister after escaping from the pack was amazing. They had sat down on some crates near the entrance of the warehouse, in clear sight of anyone that wanted to enter or exit, in case anyone wanted to find them. They were far enough, though, for relative quietness.

"I'm so sorry if this is inconvenient," Allister mumbled. He didn't like his pack because of the way they treated him, but he seemed equally as nervous around her. She knew the SPPA's reputation, and she was certain he hadn't talked to non-werewolves much. Difference and uncertainty could be terrifying too. "Is there anything else? At all?" he asked.

Eleanor smiled. There was plenty more she could ask him, but for now, she stuck with tearing down the shield he was cowering behind. "You know," she started, "back in elementary school, I was the biggest nerd in the class."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I had the tendency to tell the teachers everything, so they never openly did anything to me, but I always saw the glaring, and occasionally I'd find strange things in my desk. Sometimes they were alive."

"Wow... sounds rough."

"I got through it," Eleanor replied with a shrug. She wondered if she should weave more detail into this fictional story that she'd inserted herself in, but she didn't need to. He was talking.

"Luke was the worst, definitely," he said, "but when he was pushing me around, at least it was only him. If I didn't listen, he'd toss me around during meetups, and..."

"Of course," Eleanor said, "Nothing worse than being alone in a crowd, right?"

Allister looked up at her, surprised, and nodded. Then he looked uncertain again. "I didn't do it," he said, "I mean- sometimes I would think about how much better it would be if he weren't here, but I wouldn't- I couldn't..."

"Who do you think would?" Eleanor asked.

"I don't know," he murmured. "He was popular, but I don't know if he had any really close friends. I know he and the packmaster were sort of close, but mostly it looked like he was fun to be around. I don't know, maybe it's just because I couldn't see it, but I just don't feel like he would be the type of person to have a real conversation with." He hesitated, then chuckled softly to himself. "But I guess you can never imagine the people you hate doing good things."

"Yes, yes, that's true," Eleanor said. While the conversation had started with a lie, it was hard to deny that the things he was saying could very well be true. No faking was required to agree. "You can imagine my surprise when I saw the worst of the school bullies after ten years cradling a cute little baby in his arms."

Allister laughed at this, and she joined him.

The interrogation had become light banter by then (though Eleanor was pretty sure it had more to do with Allister's helpless personality than her own conversational skill). They theorised together, as if playing, with her notebook acting as the game board.

Together, they garnered a list of people that would have wanted him dead. Most were kind of stupid, some were good, but vague, but many were technically possible. She hadn't told him about the poison theory, though, and many of the good theories were made obsolete by it.

Her small, crooked cursive, written in a blue ballpoint, and his surprisingly beautiful hand lettering, with a copper fountain pen, sat together like reluctant roommates on the page.

-A frequent Bi-Level Market goer, who was sick of all the fights he had started, and likely hated werewolves in general plus Luke is a jerk anyway (Related: Or someone that just found a random werewolf to kill, and he was it; likely a shifter, due to claw marks) or werewolf-claw gloves!
-Someone got infected with rabies and ended up at his apartment.
-Maybe he had an addiction and couldn't pay his debts? ***check blood results
-He started misbehaving at a bar/brothel he visited every few days, found a stash of horrifically revolting sexual photographs taken there once (he didn't want to elaborate further) ***get local police to search for these
-His ex-girlfriend's belated revenge; broke up about a year ago after being together for nearly three years, last six months together were full of fights, huge drama happened. "Lecherous manslut" was used frequently, so that brothel was a possible cause. Name: Yela Finn; left pack afterwards ***find her
-Allister has a secret lover that did it out of pity NO. OFFICER.
-Officer Baker has a secret lover that wanted to give her an interesting case Ok, that was just desperate
-Luke had a secret lover, and he rejected her so she got mad ***check for signs of stalking

They stopped after that, giggling like middle-school girls over how ridiculous their theories had become. When Allister suddenly stopped and cleared his throat, she knew that her Captain had finished, and he was now moderately terrified again. "That will be all, Allister," she said, holding out a hand "Your co-operation is much appreciated."

"I'm glad I can be of help," he said, shaking her hand. "Call if you need anything else." Then he nodded to Captain Tristis and ducked away towards the warehouse.
 
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Shawn stopped Xyne before he was able to leave. "Are you sure, you and that little bitty thing can find the guy? I don't have a problem with you all exactly, but, just seems strange, only two of you... Or was it not a big deal for you?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and possibly tase the guy, just for fun, Xyne instead smirked. "Now, Packmaster, I'm offended. Of course, this is a very important case, we take the killing of anyone seriously. I don't just leave the North District for anyone you know..." His smirk grew a bit, at the resulting growl. "Not to mention, that 'little bitty thing' is very skilled. I've seen her take care of Shifter twice her size." He lied with a perfectly straight face. He didn't even feel bad about it, he blamed Marcus for that. "Have a nice evening..."

He really didn't know what Eleanor could do, but it didn't hurt at all for a couple of small rumors to help make a reputation. A large portion of the job was just that a reputation and luck.

Still, he left the meeting house, putting the Lycan firmly out of his mind. The still had a lot of work to do, before he could even start on his usual patrol, which the Commander had already said still needed to be done. Personally, he hoped they could check out the patrol site, and possibly investigate the event in the Shifter District, unless Eleanor got an amazing lead form Allister.

The young Lycan disappeared when Xyne got closer. "How did it go?"
 
"I have a few leads but they're all very theoretical; the kind that feel like they'll result in dead ends," Eleanor said, looking at her notebook, but not showing the page to Captain Tristis for obvious reasons.

"He got into a lot of fights at the Bi-Level, but that place is huge so I have no idea how we'll look into that one; he had a favourite brothel, but I had the impression he liked them more than they liked him. Don't have the name, but the uh... information... should be back at his apartment. And there's an ex, Yela Finn, who hasn't really been in contact with the pack since they broke up about a year ago." Eleanor shrugged, closing the book.

"Allister gave me a lot about his lifestyle and personality, but that was pretty much it. Honestly, I think we'll have better luck if we just give his apartment the full comb-through. He was quite a social guy. If we can locate a phone or a camera, we should have much more to go on. How fast do the local scene investigators work? Should we go back and help them take a methodical look at everything? I know it's our job to do the brunt of the field work, but to be completely honest..." she hesitated, "I'm not sure how much I trust the local force. I'm sure werewolves have their own perfectly legitimate way of doing things, but... Well, I guess at heart I am a little bit racist."
 
Xyne quietly listened to Eleanor's information, it was good. She had gotten Allister to warm up to her very quickly and that was certainly going to make things a lot easier. "I was thinking about calling Marcus Whitmore. He's the vampire that created the medicine I mentioned to you earlier." Whitmore Pharmacies was a huge company, and their medicine was always very good. Xyne honestly didn't understand why the little vampire made medicine in the first place, but he had always figured it was the challenge.

"I don't think the market will be that difficult. I have an informant there and she is pretty good at remembering things." The market was on his patrol, and there fights had to have been during the day, and very minor, otherwise he would know. "I'll check in with her when I do my rounds later. Shawn, kindly told me exactly where he was patrolling that day, Fire Coven border, so we should probably check there as well." Xyne rubbed his chin slightly, thinking about the best way to get everything done.

"All you can do about the locals is not make them too angry with you." He didn't say a word about her admission of being a racist. Everyone's opinions were slightly colored. The main point, was being able to look past it. Xyne wasn't all that fond of Shifters, for valid reasons. "It would probably be faster if we split up, one at the apartment and one at the border..." He didn't sound like that idea was his preferred choice. "I think... we should give the locals a bit more time, say an hour? Then go and light a fire under them. We can check the border, and I can call Marcus while you oversee the apartment." Eleanor seemed capable enough, and Xyne had no problem treating her like an equal.
 
"Alright," Eleanor said, "Hopefully one of these leads turn something up."

She could have added a thought about how the new kid was getting the grunt work, but she didn't. There was still possibly a line. For now, she could fly solo at the apartment and get a taste of gently bossing people around. She looked forward to it.

During training, she had been taught that the SPPA had authority over most local forces. There had been a great sense of pride and righteousness about it all, and the occasional lack of co-operation with werewolves and especially the shifters were often spoken of with disdain. She was curious about these particular officers. Then she told herself that her success with Allister had probably given her a temporary buff of arrogance.

When she arrived there to "take a closer look at some things while they worked", she was immediately given dark glares; they seemed to know she intended to quietly supervise them. She worked quietly. First, she walked through the little apartment while leafing through the images on the camera, carefully making sure they hadn't missed anything.

The sharp-eyed lead detective asked her directly, "Did we get everything?" He looked distinctly smug when she told him that yes, they had.

With the photographs carefully recording the position of everything, Eleanor was free to move things around and snoop in drawers. The werewolves weren't working particularly methodically. There was one in the kitchen, one by the body, and one by the living room area, each with their own clipboard and box. The lead detective seemed to be working the most carefully.

That had left the bedroom, for the time being, empty. She wielded her gloves and went on in.

"Don't pocket anything!" the detective had called after her when she went in. "You'll mess up the catalogue and then blame it on us."

"I won't," she replied, not intending to fall into their stereotype.

The first thing she pulled out were the boxes under the bed. The layer of dust covering them was a clear hint that they weren't of any use to her. Indeed, it was filled with little childhood relics that must had felt important at the time they were packed, but were swiftly forgotten. Next, she checked the drawers. There was no sign of a phone book, so she supposed all his contact information must have been digital. Frustratingly, the laptop was locked, and despite the mastery of fictional detectives, she knew that guessing passwords wasn't that easy, so she didn't try.

A thought occurred to her. "Hey, did any of you pick up a phone?" she asked the officers. She'd expected a "no," but the lead detective gave her another smug grin, pulled it out of his box, and held it out to her. "Already unlocked," he smirked. "We got a program. Won't work for laptops though, so don't ask."

"Oh, that's really impressive," Eleanor said, deciding that it was probably best to stroke the guy's ego for now. "Thanks. Phone's good enough for now."

"Any time," he said.

She flipped through the contact list. It was huge. She imagined that, if facebook hadn't been shut down, he would have been the type to have hundreds, even thousands, of people on his friends list. Of course, whether or not they were actually friends was another question. In any case, there were at least three hundred on the contact list, and there was no sorting of any kind. Eleanor let out a defeated sigh. She'd let some ability-less grunt take care of it. For now, she just found Yela Finn's number and wrote it down, then returned the phone to the detective.

For the photographs, she looked at the top of the closet, in-between the mattresses, behind the video games on his shelf, under the desk (in case they were taped to an envelope there), in-between the pages of a dictionary and a few Time magazines, before finally finding them sitting shamelessly in their own drawer with a pile of porn magazines, a bottle of lubricant, and a box of condoms. There was also a bottle of hand sanitizer, which was a pleasant surprise.

Eleanor was glad for the gloves as she leafed through the creased, greasy photographs. They were even worse than Allister had made them seem.

The location was dimly lit with yellow LED lights. It resembled an old tavern in its colour scheme. In one photograph, she found a fountain featuring a dragon's head spewing out a stream of milky liquid. That should be easy. She imagined herself saying, "Excuse me, could you point me to the brothel with the dragon-head statue?" She couldn't fathom any scenario where she was given a straight, professional, answer. She hoped one of Captain Tristis' leads would prove solid.
 
Xyne was met with a bland look and a growled explanation of exactly where the patrol was, by the young Lycan that currently had the duty. As he walked the length of the border, studying the area carefully, he pulled out his phone. It wasn't the same as the ones they used for the agency, those were always the newest designs, with all the gadgets, since the Commander believed in staying at the top of their game in all things. This one was battered, in a simple black case, and he didn't even look at it as he pressed a speed dial, and held it to his ear.

After only two rings, a young voice came over the speaker. The way of speaking was old, but the voice sounded like a child's, a very distracted child. "Whitmore speaking, what do you require?"

"Marcus, it's Xyne. I have a question." If he was being completely honest, Marcus was his favorite to talk to. He didn't ramble like Lil did, and he certainly didn't try and draw Xyne into his elaborate plans like Adrian did. "It's about that Therminde medicine, you made."

"Ah, Xyne, it is always a pleasure... Yet, I do not understand why would wish to know about that terrible failure. I have already made my calculations and changed the formula. The replacement is still in the testing stage." The little voice had started out pleased but quickly soured, turning to slightly bitter at the mention of the failure.

Still, Xyne couldn't help but smile a bit. "I know, Marcus. I'm sure your new drug will work wonders on.. whatever it is supposed to do..." He honestly didn't pay much attention to some of Marcus' projects, as a lot of the technical stuff was far over his head. "What I need to know is what happened to the failed drug."

There was a long period of silence, before Marcus spoke again. "I trust that you will explain this fully at a later date..." It was phrased as a request, but it was clearly an order. "I destroyed whatever I had, as I am required to do. The chemical formula, is sealed in the vault here at the pharmacy. I am confident that it has not been disturbed. However... There was several ... disturbing articles in the papers, and on the news, it is possible that the formula was released there."

Sadly, that logic made sense. With computers, and nosy reporters, it was possible that anything could have been included there. Now, he could add looking through computer files and bad news reporting to his list of chores. "It's nothing about you, Marcus. I'm working on a case, so I can't really explain now. Can you send me an encrypted copy of whatever you have on that drug to my personal email? It would really help me out."

"Of course, Xyne. You will have it within the hour. I am certain I shall see you at Adrian's later."

Rolling his eyes, and mentally adding time for a mild questioning to his nightly patrol, he turned off and tucked his phone away. Now, he hoped he could find something useful.
 
The rest of the apartment proved unfruitful. Besides the brothel, the rest of his activities were normal and healthy for a person his age. There were little notes on his desk with simple messages and reminders; the most recent: "Tuesday 7pm: Hunter's Cabin," (which she discovered was a local restaurant). She recorded this, and some others, in case they discovered that the poison could remain dormant, but she doubted it would lead to much. At home, he primarily watched TV. She could tell by the polished surface on the remote control buttons, and the quantity of food crumbs in-between the cushions of the sofa.

After lingering at the place for over an hour, she gave up on finding any useful new leads, and let the local officers continue their packing. They were almost done, and in its bare state, the place almost looked clean. Almost..

Chasing the only lead she had that didn't involve brothel-hunting, she called Yela. It rang four times, then the signal cut off mid-ring. She did it again, but this time, it cut off before the first ring had even finished. Eleanor thought for a moment, then dialled again after twenty minutes, this time with her personal phone.

"Hello," a cheerful and slightly drunk voice answered. "This is Finn. What's up?" There was audible background noise. Yela was in a public area of some sort.

"Hey!" Eleanor said, turning up the pitch of her voice and cloaking it in a Japanese accent. The officers looked up from across the room, startled by the sudden noise. "I heard you finally visited Tokyo again. Why haven't you stopped by yet? I haven't seen you since you left."

"Oh, um... sorry," the slightly slurred voice said, "Hold on a sec." Eleanor heard some shuffling, then the voice returned. "Did you recently get your number changed?"

"Damn it, Yela, you just checked the caller ID because you didn't recognise me, huh? You drunk asshole."

The voice on the other side laughed sheepishly. "Well shit is it that obvious?" she said, "But you do sound familiar..." Eleanor smiled at the obvious white lie.

"I guess that's what I get for dropping the damn thing," Eleanor said playfully. "I'll call you with my own phone tomorrow, when I get it back from the shop and you're not drunk. Then you can apologise profusely for forgetting me. Talk to you later!" With that, she hung up.

She couldn't believe her luck. First, a desperate wimp, and then a loose-tongued, slow-thinking drunk.

Pleased with the discovery of this new information, she sent a quick, straightforward text to Tristis:

"Called Yela Finn. She kept hanging up on the SPPA number, but answered when I used my personal phone and confirmed that she is currently in Tokyo. She was drunk, and may realise her mistake when she sobers up. How should I proceed?"
 
The patrol location was a complete bust. Other than a testy Lycan following him around, and a couple of Witches shouting rude comments, he didn't find anything at all. The area was dusty, showing the signs of many people talking through, and very barren, as the Fire Coven tended to incinerate anything even remotely flammable. It would take a small miracle to find anything helpful.

There was a simple chime, signaling a text message on his work phone and a darker tone from his personal one, most likely the email from Marcus. Ignoring the latter for a moment, he checked the text. After reading it, Xyne thought for a moment before typing out his reply:

"Excellent work. Upload the attached file and use that to trace her location and question her. Use your own judgement on the best way to approach her. I'll go check out the Market and see what I can find there. Don't tell anyone where you got the file from."

It wasn't a normal phone trace, it was something Xyne had gotten from Adrian, but it was certainly a lot faster than calling in for a trace and waiting for someone in the offices to actually do it. Tech support was not always at the top of it's game, especially when the head of the department was away. Idly, he wondered if Eleanor would have a problem with his unconventional ways, but as she seemed to have a backbone, Xyne was pretty sure she would say so if she did.

A quick check, showed the email had arrived, and he scanned the information as he waited for a car to take him to the market. Therminde, according to the information, was apparently created to help combat the effect of Epilepsy, a condition that caused seizures. While it had appeared to work very well for regular humans, it caused members of the other races, even Witches, to hallucinate and claw at their own skin. The notes were very detailed, something Xyne expected from Marcus, filled with theories and chemical formulas, notes on possible changes and test results as the component that caused the hallucinations was located. It made Xyne's head hurt.
 
Eleanor smiled at the quick reply. The SPPA had a mobile phone tracking program! Lovely. And Captain Tristis had probably cleared the hoops for her. She entered in the number, and automatically, her location was pulled up on a map, complete with roads, markers, and the ability to sort the best path based on the safety level of the streets, the fastest route by car, or fastest route on foot. The map even included shortcuts through alleyways.

Instead of risking a walk through unknown territories on her first day, she borrowed a local patrol car and took a road. The public area was in an active street. While still dim, it was well-lit compared to the rest of the city, as neon lights were used liberally in all the signs, but there were still no street lamps. She stopped the car before she got close, parked it in the corner of a crowded restaurant lot, and took the rest of the way inconspicuously on foot.

Yela Finn's marker on the map had shifted, moving from a bar to a karaoke place. Instead of going in and awkwardly barging in on a howling singing party, she found a nearby restaurant and requested a spot outside on the porch, where she could watch the doors. The owner of the shop commented on her race, but she spun a tale about a werewolf acquaintance that had recommended the place to her. He was still suspicious, but was glad to take her money. After ten minutes, she was perched comfortably on a chair outside with a bowl of hot rat stew (the owner had recommended stews on the grounds that everything else was best rare or raw, and she hadn't tried rat meat before) and a cup of coffee. The stew was amazing, the coffee was shit, and the minutes passed slowly with Yela's map marker sitting stagnant on her bright screen.
 
Xyne ended up deciding that it would probably be best to share the information from Marcus with Eleanor, and made a note to show it to her when they met back up. First, he had the market to deal with.

The Bi-level market, was one of the greatest attractions the Vampire district had. While it was technically neutral territory, it was squarely inside the Vampire District. The building was two levels and covered most of an entire city block. There was no sectioning here, like there was in the city, a lycan could have a stand next to a human and have a shifter across from him. It was open every day without fail except for Halloween, when most of the city, gathered in the Neutral District of the city wide celebration of the Treaty.

As such, the market was a prime place for small fights, and not so small fights. There were always at least four SPPA agents stationed at the market at all times, still, many of the higher ranked agents made an appearance there, throughout the day and night. It helped to keep the fights to a minimum and the death count as low as possible. Xyne came every evening, except on Tuesdays, the day he was supposed to be off.

Tonight though, he mostly nodded to the various shopkeepers that he knew, looking for one in particular. Asmara was probably his favorite person in the entire market. She was an old shifter, sly and stubborn, and Xyne's personal contact for anything shifter related, or for anything pertaining to happenings at the market.
 
It was perhaps an hour when Yela, and a pack of friends (puns!) exited the karaoke place. She followed after them, keeping about half a block of distance away. There were enough people on the street to keep her inconspicuous to them, but the amount of people walking the other direction that turned to stare cut into the perceived incognito nature of what she was doing.

There were four women in the group, and one man. They were all loud and energetic, leading her to believe that they were at least buzzed. It wasn't if they were carrying beer bottles around, just talking. Eventually, they began to split up. Their first stop was a parking lot, in which the man and two women disappeared to. After five minutes of additional walking, they said goodbyes at a street intersection, and went their separate ways. The map marker told her that Yela was the one going forward.

She followed a bit more, waiting for the late-night crowd to subside a little bit before running to catch up. "Excuse me," she called out. "Yela Finn?"


She swung around aggressively. "Who are you, how do you know me, and what do you want?" she growled.

Eleanor lurched backwards and held up her hands. "Whoa, why so aggressive?" she said.

"Because I have reason to be suspicious of everyone right now, and the fact that you're human doesn't help you." Then, she noticed the crowd her anger had drawn. Eleanor made a note that werewolves were attracted to conflict. "Come here," Yela said, grabbing her arm and dragging her down the street. "Too crowded."

Eleanor let herself be dragged for a little. She was used to being pushed around back at home. After a moment, though, she shook her arm free and just followed. Yela walked furiously, and there was no room for speech. As she walked, she looked around, scouting for a location, and settled on the deserted playground of a local park. As they walked, Eleanor put her hands in her pockets. Through the pockets, she could feel the batteries.

"Alright," she growled. "What does the SPPA want with me, and why is it so urgent?"

Eleanor was surprised. This was nothing like the drunk, carefree, person she'd talked to only several hours before. Yela Finn was serious, aggressive, and above all, not stupid. So she stuck with truths.

"Oh, you just happened to be in the city at an interesting time," Eleanor said. They were alone, and yet Yela was asking questions, not trying to attack her, so she didn't mention the attack yet.

"How did you know I was in the city?"

"I didn't," she said.

"Damn it! I knew it. I knew something was wrong the moment I closed my phone. You think you're so smart, aren't you? With your multiple numbers and fancy trackers and special powers."

"Actually," Eleanor interrupted, "I thought I was just really lucky, and we don't have multiple numbers. The second number had nothing to do with the SPPA. Can't deny the fancy tracker and special powers though."

"You think you're funny too, huh?"

"I was funny before I got into the SPPA."

The studious, nerdy side of her was screaming at her for breaching the standard interrogations for the second time that day. She had associated those conversations with exams, though, and it was difficult for her to translate that tight, practiced mode of talking onto the city streets and normal people.

Yela Finn scoffed. "If I didn't know you had some kind of trick up your sleeve, I'd kill you."

"Under our code of conduct, an SPPA officer is allowed to act with aggression if threatened," Eleanor's professional nerd said.

Yela glared at her, then took a few steps backwards. Professionalism wins.

"I need to know when you arrived in town, what you're doing, and when you're planning on leaving," Eleanor said.

"Two days ago in the morning, visiting the few friends that I care about in this stupid city, and tomorrow night, unless you interfere. And here." She held out two tickets for Eleanor to see, but not to take, "These are the tickets to prove it."

The dates matched up almost too perfectly. She wondered if Yela was playing an innocence trick ("if it was me would I have been dumb enough to give you those dates?"), or whether she was genuinely clueless.

"Yeah, I'd cancel that," Eleanor said, marking her words down in the book.

Yela Finn bristled. "I swear, if I have to deal with you people again for more than I have to..."

"Again?" Eleanor asked.

"They locked me up for nearly a month as a precaution," Yela said, "and then they found out that I didn't do it. They let me out with "you're lucky" instead of an apology, and if this branch plans to do that too, I really will kill you when I get out."

"Well, hopefully it won't come to that," Eleanor said. "What were you doing yesterday, in the evening? Everyone else would have been at a pack meeting, but you're a visitor."

"Sleeping," Yela said, "Which is what I wanted to be doing by now. I'm jetlagged. In addition to being a little drunk, which you discovered earlier today."

"Fine," Eleanor said, "but I'll need your address. And if we can't find you, you can count on being tenaciously looked for."

Yela scoffed, but reluctantly wrote down the information on the Eleanor's notepad. "Don't piss me off any more than you need to," she grumbled, before heading off.

Eleanor was swift in sending Captain Tristis a detailed text.
 
Square in the middle of the lower level of the market was Asmara's stand. It held knick-knacks, bit of jewelry, and occasionaly, a exotic pet or two. Nothing special, compared to the other shops, save for the fact that it was the only shop that actually sold the animals, as they looked healthy.

"Asmara, how is business tonight?" Xyne smiled at the old shifter, someone he genuinely liked, mostly due to her sassy nature and no nonsense attitude.

Sharp gray eyes peered up, from a wrinkled face, as she leaded forward in her chair, resting on her crooked cane. "Xyne, you're late tonight." She leaned back again, a wry smile flickering across her face. "It's boring tonight, no fights, nothing."

Idly, he looked over the things in her stand, knowing that it put her in a better mood. "Caught a case, and I was wondering if you could help me out. You are my favorite shifter after all."

A sharp laugh, that turned into a small cough. "I'm the only shifter you like. Save the bullshit for those freeloaders upstairs. Now, what do you want to know?" She was a no nonsense kind of woman.

Xyne chuckled. "Do you know of a Luke Hunt? Lycan, got into a few fights here not that long ago?"

Instantly, she scowled. "That little brat, picked a fight with one of his buddies near the coffee machine, tossed the whole table into the wall. We had no coffee here for a week. Not that I expect you to feel sorry about that, but.." A loud sigh, "that's what happens when you spend all your time with blood drinkers."

"You do know that Lil had nothing do to do with the fact I don't like coffee right?" He still smiled, Asmara was always complaining about something, it probably made her happy. "What else can you tell me?" He leaned against the corner of her stall, looking serious.

"There was some pasty guy following him around the last time he was here, shifty. Really tall, blond, one of those pretty boy types." Asmara rolled her eyes. "Thought he was one of yours. Running around here bossing everyone around. But that boy, Luke, he was trouble. Always piss drunk, talking loud and rude. Tried to rip me off once, but I cracked him with my cane." She sounded pleased.

That wasn't good. "Do you know the guys name? The one you thought was with the agency?"

"Nope. But, I mean tall, Xyne, easily a couple of inches over you, and thin, boy was rail thin. Can't be that many running around like that."
 
An hour later, Eleanor was back at the office. On her desk were notes and photographs from the local field detectives. They had done an impressively detailed job, even marking the objects of interest. Unfortunately, for all their hard work, there was little that lead back to Yela Finn. There were no odd fingerprints anywhere, which meant either a slow acting poison or a freshly showered and gloved perpetrator; and there were no odd phone records. Most of the information just pointed to the fact that he was a massive asshole, mildly addicted to porn, and mildly addicted to violent video games. General asshole.

The bloodwork was still pending, so she supposed she could wait on that, but besides trace amounts of medicine and probably alcohol, she didn't think anything unusual would come from there either. At the moment, she was filling out a large quantity of paperwork that would cumulate in permission to bring in Yela Finn for further questioning. She'd also gotten Allister to sign a few forms saying that if necessary, he would re-tell the story for her colleagues, if needed. She had to promise him her presence if that happened, but otherwise he was happy to comply.

A few of the officers that had been part of training had already complimented her efficiency (though she didn't tell them the details, obviously). The other day-to-day investigators reluctantly muttered things about luck. Jealous brats, she thought to herself.

"Officer Baker? Here, everything on Yela Finn, as you requested." Eleanor looked up to see a file clerk dump a thick wad of folders on an empty corner of her desk. "Hasn't been scanned yet, so please make sure they're still sorted by date when you're done." She had to grab the pile quickly to stop it from sliding off. He left before she could even thank him. Filing must have been understaffed too.

Sighing, she put the pile beside her, then returned to finish off the arrest forms. She hadn't yet received a reply from Captain Tristis, but she hoped she would get one soon, if only to approve her move of bringing Yela in. Despite all her success, she was still blundering about in strange territories.
 
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