Private Tales Noodles and Death

[Syretia]

When the floating bits of rubble coasted downwards and re-settled upon the terrafirma the restoration of Elbion was able to begin in earnest. It had been a tumultuous time. Chaos and panic had stretched the Gendarmerie thin. It’d led to an explosion of crime and now that the populace wasn’t floating in the air the residents of Elbion had a lot of decision making to do.

No surprise that some packed up and left. Most stayed though, choosing to rebuild their homes alongside the Cairou River. And the scum of Arethil saw only one thing as Elbion began to limp back to life.

Opportunity.

The Marte Cartel had always had its hooks into the town guard, had always peddled its filth through the Quarterfell. So many of her fellow Gardes were on the take, made it feel impossible to keep your nose clean but she’d somehow done it. It only got harder as the front businesses of the Marte Cartel were financing “public works” projects and building restorations in the poorest parts of Elbion.

As a garde Syretia had to simply avert her gaze to all of it, hold her nose so as not to break the unspoken rule every policing force had. You didn’t snitch on another cop, no matter how dirty they were. It was why she was so nervous to inform the Captain of the huge score she’d stumbled upon. Syretia knew a few other gardes had to be aware of it but they just couldn’t bring themselves to betray their criminal financiers.

Luckily, the Captain had recognized her gumption and now… well now she was a full fledged gendarme.

She’d be investigating crimes. Really making a difference. They’d told her she’d be partnered with one of the best. A veteran of the force, someone she could trust. They’d really been insistent about following his every order.

Was just a shame her first case with her new partner involved a murder at an outdoor noodle bar. Didn’t seem quite as glamorous as she’d hope but justice had to start somewhere. The Quarterfell deserved to have every foul murderer brought to account for their crimes.


For now, though, she had business to attend to and before approaching the noodle kiosk she was to meet her new partner. Just a block away from the crime scene. She stood there in the open, eagerly awaiting his arrival.

 

[Syl]

Syl strode through the streets with about as much enthusiasm as he could muster; which at this point was none at all.

He had walked the beat of Elbion for almost two hundred years. He'd witnessed mad wizards, crazed sorcerers, and angry old men running naked through the streets. About the only thing that had surprised him in the last century had been the breaking of the city, and even that had been explained eventually.

This city was past phasing him, a fact which someone else might have taken pride in.

The Elf strode confidently, moving through the thin crowds of the night as a soft sprinkling of rain began to fall from the sky. Up ahead, on the corner of the street, he could see what was obviously his new partner.

It was always easy to pick them out from the crowd.

They were observant, careful, but also anxious. Their heads were turned on a swivel. Either eager or nervous. They watched anything and everything, taking in the information around them as they searched. It was a good quality, in all honesty, but one that needed to be honed.

As Syl approached his new partner his finger snapped loudly. "Head up, Rookie."

He called to her, never slowing his stride as he moved on passed her.

"There's a dead man waiting for us." The Elf Told her, never even bothering to introduce himself.

 

[Syretia]

A sudden snap brought her focus back to the present. It was the snapping of fingers that her veteran partner had issued. He didn't even stop to mention his name. The other Gendarmes told her she'd be in the hands of, "Teach," but she was confident that wasn't actually what he called himself.

Not wanting to set a bad impression she followed behind him in a hurry.

The sun had begun to set, a mild drizzle had started, but the dirt roads still held firm. If the rain fall picked up or continued all night that'd be a different story but for now at least they weren't dealing with mud. In as rapid as a tone as she could muster Syretia added, in a heavy Elbionese accent, "I am Syretia, it is nice to meet you," she kept pace with him but tried to dart between awnings and canopies to avoid the slow rainfall.

"What do you know about ze crime scene?" she had gotten no briefing at all and wasn't sure if he had been clued into any of the specifics.

Upon arriving at the noodle kiosk they'd discover that a simple canopy prevented some, but certainly not all, of the rain from falling upon the counters and patrons. Sitting nearly in the center of the stall was a slumped over body, head face first into a bowl of noodles, with a pool of blood that appeared to have stemmed outwards from his head. Based upon his height, perhaps four-foot-six if she were to guess, he was a dwarf with a well manicured blonde beard.

Behind the counter a half-orc's face lit up in a lime-green tone. "Ah! The Gendamerie! Finally you are here in full force to relieve me of this corpse! He's been here since mid-day," it was already dinner time and there was no doubt that a deceased body was cutting into the stall's profits. With a half-frown the orcish-human added, "let me know what's needed, always happy to help if it speeds things along."

Based on his appearance she could tell that the noodle bar's operator was just barely scraping by. A bad supper rush could mean a hard time paying rent for the week.

 

[Syl]

"No." That was something he'd learned rather quickly when taking this job.

There was never enough information. Not from the top. All they ever got at the start of these damned things was a vague description and some speech about how the crime had to be solved quickly. More often than not it turned out to be less than useless.

He glanced towards his new 'partner', studying her for just a brief moment.

She was a drow, at least part of one, something that was rare even here in Elbion. He mused for a moment, and then continued as the noodle shop came up ahead. "Don't worry about that."

Syl demanded, falling perfectly into the role he had been labeled for.

"Keep your eyes open." He instructed. "Listen, and make sure you take notes."

That was the last thing he said before they stepped under the thin canopy, being greeted almost immediately by the face of the smiling half-orc and a dead Dwarf. A frown pulled over Syl's face immediately, his gaze flickering to the corpse.

He frowned, then looked to the owner. "I'm guessing you saw what happened?"

Syl asked. "I mean...the man is literally dead at your counter."

There was an accusatory edge to his tone, a small interrogation already falling into place.

 

[Syretia]

Her partner was short on words about himself. She still wasn’t entirely sure of his name and she absolutely wasn’t going to call him, “Teach.” Still couldn’t figure out if that was a nickname or if the others had just been messing with her.

Regardless, “Teach,” apparently knew as little as she did about the case. Dead body at the stall, that was it. Or maybe he was withholding what he did know although she saw no reason for him to. Syretia wasn’t quite sure which option was worse, a partner who didn’t trust her or Gendarmes being sent out without any sort of briefing.

”Right,” she answered back to his recommendation. A small leather bound tome and charcoal pencil at the ready.

A grin came over the orc’s face as he crossed his arms tightly. For a second he just stood there and smiled. Syretia had worked patrols in the Quarterfell before and the average resident here didn’t like gendarmerie. Didn’t want to be seen as a snitch or a rat.

Eventually the stall owner spoke up, “oh, I saw it alright. Nasty business,” he shook his head in disgust, “so you’ll be removing the body now?”

The dark elf’s left eye twitched. ”We will remove ze body as soon as you tell use, precisely, what happened.”

“He died.”

Slowly the grin faded from the half-orc’s face, replaced by a genuine sadness. “His name was Winfrey. At least that’s what he told me. Came a few times a week, good customer. Waffled back-and-forth between Allirian-style noodles and Molthal Mix every week or so.” A sigh escaped his toothy lip as he reminisced.

Syretia jotted down the name but nothing else. The owner was obviously not in a sharing mood.

”We don’t care about his dietary preferences,” her words showed the mildest of annoyances, ”who made him dead?”

“Happened real fast. Didn’t get a good look.” The shit-eating grin had returned. “So, you’ll move the body now? Dinner rush is coming.”

 

[Syl]

Syl frowned at the mention of the Molthal Mix.

He had never much liked the taste, there was something utterly bitter about it that his tongue couldn't really handle. He shook his head, and then reached down to grab hold of Ol' Winfrey's shoulder. He pulled the man back, his body already stiff.

The bowl of noodles stuck to his face for a moment, but Syl delicately removed it and placed it onto the countertop. "There I moved it."

The Gendarme said as he used his free hand to pull something from his coat.

It flipped open into a single monocle, though the lens seemed to be shaped a bit more oddly. It flickered with a strange light, and then Syl looked down to inspect the man's head. He frowned for a moment, and then began to speak.

"Looks like a single stab wound." He said. "Sleek blade, maybe an Salitran pick or Coraliv Needle."

Popular with a certain type of cut throat. "Rocko, the undertaker should be by in...five or six hours to take the body, and we'll have to close this place down until then. Preserve the scene and all that for him."

Syl said, tucking away the device into his pocket, knowing that stretch of time would probably kill the mans business for the rest of the day.

"Unless, you know, you can speed our investigation a bit."

 

[Syretia]

Syretia nodded at her partner's on-the-spot medical opinion.

"The murderer was up close," she said through thick accented words while glancing at the stall owner.

It was then that she noticed that the more "Teach" spoke the greater the number of furrows on the orc's brow. Right as she thought his brow had reached the maximum number of creased lines her fellow detective would utter another syllable and the lines would extend their count again.

Once he'd finished speaking the half-orc unfurled his arms and leaned his head to the side. Spitting a wad of saliva on the ground in as audible of a fashion as he could manage. "Fucking pigs."

The drow could sympathize with the vendor a tad. He was trying to run a business, make some coin to at least feed himself and possibly a family back home too. He also lived in a neighborhood where cooperation with the authorities could cause significantly more problems for him than any dead body would.

"I'm not a rat."

She rolled her shoulders and prepared another comeback, ready to back her new partner up. Sympathy didn't mean she could ignore the senior gendarme's strategy. They needed information. Especially when they had a witness to the crime.

But before she could step in the orc relented, if only partially, "whoever it was wore a hood. It happened quick too. That's all I know about the murder."

He probably knew more, like a short list of suspects, but he valued his own life enough not to share.

"Everyone in this part of Elbion knows Winfrey. He was a loud mouth. Ran with a crew that handled... shipments." The orc placed both hands on the counter of the noodle bar's stall. Far enough away to keep himself clean of the spilt blood.

Syretia tilted her head. "Right. Understood," she jotted the information in her tome as she continued to speak, "any associates zat he ever came to your noodle bar with?" 'Shipments' was a kind way of saying he was smuggling drugs. Likely for the cartel.

"Uvogin and Arthur," the orc snapped quickly, "are we done now? Think we could speed up that corpse clearing timetable?"

 

[Syl]

"Uvogin Denris?" Syl said with no small amount of surprise. Winfry nodding his, though clearly would have preferred not to. The Elf knew the name, and the man.

The man was a wastrel of a kind. Usually spent a good chunk of his day at the taverns and most of his nights at the docks. Syl had dragged him in on half a dozen complaints, though had never made much stick. He was of the slippery sort, not because of intelligence or planning, but because he just seemed to be lucky.

A frown touched his face for a brief moment.

Then he nodded. "I'll have someone along shortly."

As he stepped away from the noodle bar Syl pushed some hair out of his face.

"I don't know who this Arthur character is." Syl said as he reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a small timepiece. "But...Denris should be sitting in the Tipsy Pony right about now."

That would be their next step.

 

[Syretia]

Uvogin Denris. Syretia had grown up in the same apartments as Uvogin when she was a teenager. It was one of the low points of her mother and hers life. They'd done better since but for awhile things were bleak and characters like Uvogin didn't help the situation.

She smiled at the noodle bar owner and nodded, "we'll be back if we have further questions." With that she turned and followed behind her new partner.

"Ze Tipsy Pony?" she said with a degree of shock to her voice. There were some places that the gendarmerie weren't meant to go. Or, at least, if you did go there it was because you were on the take of the cartels.

The Tipsy Pony was one such place. She'd been there when one of her superiors was told which flophouses he was allowed to bust for narcotics and which ones he was to avoid. There was also a legendary event among the gendarmes and gardes of Elbion about a time when a stalwart officer attempted an arrested at the Pony. Multiple injuries and a dead officer followed the massive bar brawl.

Still, if her partner thought it prudent to venture in there and obtain information she would follow. They didn't have anything else to go on and this was her first case. They'd solve it, she'd make sure of it. "What's the play?"

If he wanted to lead the investigation he could but Uvogin definitely knew who she was. Syretia wasn't entirely sure if that was information to fill "Teach" in on or not.

 

[Syl]

The Pony wasn't a blame that any Gendarme would walk into willingly, at least not with their signets on show.

One was about as liable to get stabbed as they were to get the answers they were looking for. A frown pulled at his lips for a brief moment as he considered their options. Walking into the place might set off half a dozen alarm bells, but letting this lead go also wouldn't do them much good.

"Stake-out." He said after a few seconds of consideration.

A more direct approach might have been warranted if this dead dwarf had been worth much of a damn, but Syl wasn't going to risk his life...or Syretia's life for the bastard. They had a few days before the Capitaine got on their ass about the case.

Doing a little waiting would be alright. "There's a apartments opposite the entrance of the Pony."

One might wonder how Syl knew so much about the place.

"We'll wait on top until we see Uvogin leave." It would probably be hours yet, but Syl wasn't willing to take any risk. Besides, they would be getting paid anyway.

 

[Syretia]

"Ze apartments?" Syretia's voice held an ounce of bewilderment. They were slums, not dissimilar from her some of the squalor she grew up in herself, but it was highly irregular for guards to set foot in such places. Perhaps gendarme life was more different than she would've guessed.

A nod followed as she walked in step with "Teach" towards the entrance. Broken stones from the cataclysm were still present here although the Marte Cartel was slowly rebuilding pieces of the poorest areas there were parts of the Quarterfell, such as this, where disarray would likely remain permanently.

It let nobles know to avoid it. Let the authorities know they weren't welcome. Let honest residents know to mind their business and stay out.

Syretia sighed and added in her thick Elbionese accent, "we'll need to watch ourselves," a fact she was sure he already was aware of. Though as they ascended the first flight of stairs she noticed that the residents, some of whom were known gangsters, simply averted their gaze. One or two even gave the pair of gendarmes a simple nod.

They took up a spot atop one of the public balconies, between apartment 213 and 215, and settled in right as a drizzle began. Eyeing the exit of the Pony with hoods drawn to keep the rain at bay she tilted her head towards her new partner, "they told me your name was Teach. You already know that I am Syretia."

She wasn't going to ask for a name outright. Perhaps they hadn't been playing pranks on her and the man truly did prefer to be called, "Teach."

 

[Syl]

Syl scoffed as Syretia said that they would have to watch themselves. It was funny, how little they actually knew when they first came into the job. He had gone through the process a few times now, but it seemed that each time there were certain things that just tended to repeat themselves.

There were always rules to this sort of thing. An understanding between parties. As long as that bargain held, there would be no threat. "Just don't try to arrest anyone while we're in there."

It was the first lesson that he would impart on her.

More often than not there was a certain value in keeping things the way they were. Arresting the gangsters in the apartments would do little to make things 'better', and as long as you knew the right faces and names they could even be helpful.

Something Syl had come to understand a long time ago.

As they came to their place and the rain began to fall, Syl drew the hood tighter around his head. He leaned against the edge, letting out a scoff.

"Teach, huh?" He said with a shake of his head. "It'll do."

The nickname tended to change every few decades. 'Professor', 'The Gen', even 'Knife-Ear' for one particular fool. Syl had lost count of the nicknames that had dragged over him through the years. By now he'd forgotten most.

He shook his head, then regarded her for a moment. "From Elbion?"

Syl asked of her.

 

[Syretia]

Syretia had actually persed at the mention of not arresting anyone. It was common, even amongst the common gardes, to trade favors or overlook minor violations in favor of a ‘greater good.’

The problem was that this, ‘greater good,’ was often subjective. It ebbed and flowed based on the gendarmerie’s objectives that year. Or the current focus of the current case. It wasn’t that Syretia didn’t understand the purpose or reasoning behind it but one never knew if a thief was stealing a family’s last meal. Or if a criminal they turned a blind eye to today would graduate to murder tomorrow.

Still, the half-drow didn’t cause a scene. Didn’t make a fuss.

”Alright Teach,” she said back to her partner. He could’ve just been a professional or could’ve still been sizing her up. Or maybe he just preferred the nickname to his own.

Grayish pupils focused on the singular entrance and exit of the Pony, occasionally wavering to the droplets of rain falling into puddles just before the bar. Then Teach spoke up with his question. ”Yes,” she shared courtly as she kept her attention on their target, ”lived here all of my life. My father was from elsewhere, my mother is Elbionese to her bone.”

Being part human, part dark elf, was always something lost on most. They just assumed she was fully elven.

”Yourself?” she asked while hoping to hide her curiosity. Teach seemed like a harder to crack mystery than the murder they were trying to solve.

 

[Syl]

"Mm." The Elf grunted, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

He was glad that she was at least from the city. The ones who came from out of town tended to die a lot faster. Mostly because they had their own impressions of what Elbion should be. They thought of the whole town as the College.

In their mind a patrol was getting a bunch of young wizards to stop throwing around toads or whatever. Not dealing with cartels that would quickly slit your throat for poking your nose in the wrong place. Maybe she'd actually make something of herself.

Though he'd thought the same thing with the last one.

He really was still too much of an optimist.

"Near." Syl mused. "Far."

Syl looked over to his new 'partner'. "Wherever the fuck."

Where he was from didn't really matter. He was over half a century old, and a good chunk of that time had been spent in Elbion. Syretia needed to know where he was from about as much as he needed to know who she was dating.

"Look there." He gestured, not to the entrance of the Pony but instead towards a dark ally. There, a figure stumbled out from a side door, his body hunching over a barrel as he wretched."I'll assume you have sharp eyes."

She was at least half an elf after all.

 

[Syretia]

Teach was a difficult book to read.

He was an elf but she couldn't tell if he was a half-ling like her or full-blooded. Not that it mattered either way other than it meant he could've been the same age as she. Or twice as old. Or ten times as old. His accent was difficult to place too which to her meant he probably didn't grow up in Elbion.

And he didn't seem eager to share anything at all about himself. Could've been the result of disinterest or maybe he just didn't like female partners or perhaps he was one of those weird stoic types who didn't want to "get too close" to anyone.

Whatever.

She dismissed the inner dialogue as he gestured and she tried, as nonchalantly as possible, to glean a look. "Oui, I have sharp eyes," she added with an edge of disdain. Had Teach not been elven himself she would've assumed he was racist. "Uvogin? Partied a bit too hard?"

Keeping both eyes trained on him her face lit up slightly as she anticipated the chase. A hand brushed against her scar as she wiped rainwater from her face.

"Do we follow him or just apprehend him outright?" She doubted he'd be leading them to whoever this mysterious 'Arthur' was. In fact, judging by his swaying motions and the vomit he left in his wake she guessed he was going to look for a place to bed down until the hangover sunk in.

 

[Syl]

Syl considered the question for a moment. Like her, he assumed he wouldn't be leading them anywhere of value to tonight, but that wasn't really what he was interested in. A moment passed as he ran a hand slowly over his beard.

"Hope you don't have anyone waiting for you at home." Syl began, his gaze flickering down the fire escape of the building. "We're going to follow him, and then wait."

He had learned early on that patience was key in this line of work.

It was very doubtful that Uvogin would be going anywhere useful until morning, but he would eventually. Syl was intent on not losing the man, and with how resources were stretched back at the home office he very much doubted they could get anyone else to watch him.

So it was down to the two Gendarme. "He'll sober up eventually."

He glanced at Syretia as he began to head towards the fire escape, keeping half an eye on Uvogin as he went stumbling out of the alleyway and into the street.

"Then he'll lead us to this 'Arthur'." They just had to be patient. Criminals as a rule were stupid, and Uvogin was certainly not the exception.

 

[Syretia]

Syretia matched Teach's eye and nodded. "Very well," she added as they descended the fire escape.

Her mother knew that she would be out all night from time-to-time. There wasn't anyone else back home to worry about her presence. But she couldn't help to wonder whether this was truly worth it.

The man was drunk. What was the play here? Follow him to whatever hovel he decided to sleep off his intoxication at and then wait until dawn? Was that her life now? Following drunkards through backalleys and waiting around until the sun decided to peak its head over the horizon?

Whatever. If that's what 'good policing' took she'd do it. Keeping her grays trained on the man the duo followed him as he stumbled through passages. Turning here and there as he grew ever closer to his final destination.

After a few blocks she whispered, "we're past ze buffer zone." An area of the Quarterfell where their department determined they wouldn't, or in some cases couldn't, patrol due to Cartel influence. Rumors persists about gendarmes on the take or the threat of violence not really justifying their presence.

Luckily, almost a stone's throw into the space, Uvogin stumbled into a little hostel.

"Do we wait just past this way?" she asked while gesturing towards a statuette which marked the barrier between where they were "allowed" to police and where the rule of the Marte began. An eyebrow was crooked as she stared at her new partner.

 

[Syl]

Syl frowned for a moment, well aware of the 'line' that had been drawn by the Cartel. It was something he had played across more than once. Like anything else in this business, that rule was a flexible one...as long as you knew the right ways to push and pull.

"No." The Elf said with a shrug, his hand coming up to take off the small pin that marked him as a Gendarme.

"Shifts over." That wasn't true, but none of the cutthroats on the street would know that. "We're just there to...meet a friend of hours."

If anyone asked anyway.

Syl took half a step forward, frowned for a moment, and then turned back to Syretia. "Sometimes you get a feeling. A...notion that there's something more. A murder is all well and good, Syretia, happens every day in Elbion."

As much as many would have preferred to think it was not so.

"But when you do this as long as I do, sometimes you see threads." It was the first time he had ever imparted any sort of actual wisdom on her. "And I can't but help follow those threads."

No matter what they had led him to. No matter what he'd done because of them. ”Go home if you’d rather, I’ll see someone fetches you in the morning.”

Then he headed towards the Hostel.

 

[Syretia]

Shift's over? That was very irregular and Syretia was fairly certain the Merchant Council would refer them to a disciplinary tribune if such a practice ever got back to them. Still, she was a greenhorn, she wasn't about to argue with Teach.

"I'm your partner. I will not be going home," her words were measured as a nimble hand removed her own pin and she tucked the magic nullification charm wrapped around her neck into her tunic. "I'm fine following ze threads as we go to meet our mutual friend."

Syretia followed closely behind the older Gendarme as they marched towards the hostel.

No where in the Quarterfell was particularly 'nice' but this area, the area where the law wasn't permitted to poke its head into, was particularly bleak. Broken windows, cracks all throughout the infrastructure that had been exacerbated by the recent cataclysm, barking dogs, street urchins peddling obviously stolen wares or running about for some unknown hustle. It was a lot to take in and it immediately alerted the dark elf that this was one of those places where people didn't ask questions. Where they didn't speak with the gendarmerie.

The lobby of the hostel wasn't much better as she tip-toed to avoid scuttling roaches and broken glass from discarded half-pence wine bottles. "Do you come here often?" she spoke in a whisper so low only Teach could hear.

Eventually, they came to a hallway and saw Uvogin dart into a little room. From the sound, or lack thereof, he didn't bother locking the door behind him. Or perhaps there was no latch for any sort of lock in a place like this.

 

[Syl]

Syl couldn't help but chuckle. "More often than I'd like."

The Hostel was a grimy, disgusting place.

It was almost directly opposite everything that he had grown up surrounded by. Back in the Falwood things had been clean, perfect, precise. Much of Elbion wasn't, and places like this certainly weren't. It was a wonder that he had lasted here so long.

A wonder that he still wanted to stay.

Syl grimaced as they watched Uvogin dart into one of the rooms, though with how drunk the man was it would be more accurate to call it a shamble. Syl frowned for a brief moment, and then motioned to the room directly next to Uvogin's. "In there."

He said, heading to the door and not even bothering knocking.

There was a woman inside, along with a man who was half dressed. The latter opened his mouth to object, but before he could Syl cut in.

"Get the fuck out. Lyr business." His face paled in an instant, head tipping in a nod as he began to pull on his trousers. "And tip the lady before you go."

The man froze, glanced at Syl, then pulled out a handful of coins and tossed them on the table before quickly darting out the door.

 

[Syretia]

Syretia's gray eyes widened at the sight before her, though only for a second. She had expected a hovel that Uvogin chose to rest his head and only now did she realize they were entering the office of a working woman.

Her first customer finished putting on his trousers and grabbed a wadded up shirt, dropping a coin upon the dresser as he exited with his top half pulled over his head. The young woman, likely used to unsavory affairs in her home, simply plucked a book off the shelves and turned so that her back was facing the two gendarmes and their mark.

"Syl?" Uvogin's words slurred as he wobbled to-and-fro, "da fuck ye want?" He blinked a few times whilst rubbing at the stubble on his chin before noticing the half-drow. Shaking his head he added, "who da fuck is she?"

"Syretia." She didn't feel the need to add more. She wasn't really sure what Teach's play here was or if perhaps Uvogin was some sort of informant or old friend. Everyone knew he worked on the edges of the law and everyone knew he had dealings with the cartel from time to time. But she wasn't sure to what extent.

"Right luv, ye looking for work?" Uvogin plopped himself next to the woman whose nose was still buried in whatever she was reading.

It was then that the full reality dawned on her. Uvogin didn't just peddle drugs, he was a peddler of sex as well.

 

[Syl]

Syl stared down at the man.

He'd never much liked dealing with scum like Uvo. There was a necessity to it of course, but well the interactions always put a bad taste in his mouth. The man was a class of criminal that even the truly corrupt cops tended to avoid. For more reason than one.

Lest they were true fools. "No, Uvo. She's with me."

Syl had a reputation for not always playing by the rules, and once or twice there had even been stories about him quashing a murder or making a little extra coin on the side. Nothing has ever stuck, but the rumors reached even the street. Uvo had a nature of taunting him about it all, mostly, Syl was sure, to see if he could get a hook onto the Gendarme.

"Came to ask you some questions about a friend of yours." The criminal glanced at Syretia, then to Syl.

He frowned and looked at the lady of the night at his side.

"You best get goin now."

The woman looked at the three others in the room, grabbed a small slip of a robe and then quickly rushed out the door.

"You're on the wrong side of the line to be asking questions. Syl."

A smile touched the elf's lips. "Syretia, get the door."

 

[Syretia]

Syl? So his name really wasn't Teach. Or, maybe, it was and Syl was just a nickname. Either way the dark elf decided to file that tidbit of information away for later.

Tension rose in the small room as soon as Uvogin asked his female friend (or employee?) to exit the room. She kept her demeanor light, unthreatening, but her hands remained near her curved knives just in case violence came next.

Syretia didn't delay at closing the door and for good measure she leaned her entire body weight against it in lieu of a lock. Would be best if they weren't interrupted.

"I did not zee a line. Did you?"

All three of them knew the law didn't officially police this part of town. But a show of strength felt right in the moment.

To punctuate the statement the gendarme moved some of her white hair behind an ear, crossed her arms, and gave Uvogin a large grin. She'd let Teach, or Syl, handle the interrogation from here. Although a finger rested just near the gap of her garments where the hilt of her weapon sat, ready to spring forward and back her partner up if the need arose.

 

[Syl]

"Never even knew to look for one." Uvogin may have been a fool, but he wasn't a complete idiot.

He glanced between the two Gendarme, his eyes weary. Even the drunken lout understood what was going on, and more than that knew that he was outclassed. On a good day Uvogin might have been able to last a few minutes against Syl, with the amount of drink he'd had tonight?

There was no chance.

"Liste, Syl. You don't want to do this, you know who my Uncle is. I ca-"

"Your Uncle fucking hates you, Uvo." Syl cut the man off. "Don't make this worse than it has to be. Just tell us what we want to know, and this can be like it never happened at all."

Uvogin scowled.

"I don't know shi-"

For a second time within the same minute Syl didn't let the man speak. Instead he ripped him from his place by the lapels, practically throwing him against the wall. "Don't give me that shit, Uvo."

Syl said as he held the man.

"You're going to give me everything you know about your buddy Winfrey." The Elf said, his face a mask.

 

[Syretia]

Syretia took a mental note about how Syl pushed for information. The moment Uvogin thought to bargain the Teach put an end to it. There would be no bargaining, no negotiating, and Syretia simply assumed this was because her partner had worked with this scum enough to know it wouldn't serve them.

Intimidation was their only play.

Uvo's face paled and the whites of eyes shrunk at the mention of Winfrey. "I didn't have nothin' to do with that."

The dark elf unsheathed her knife in a dramatically loud fashion. She brought the blade up to her face and slowly moved it back and forth while examining it. "Shame. We need information or we need a patsy. Can't leave without one or ze other."

Her words were measured and spoken without any emotion. She was acting, sure, but she wanted it to come across as a logical decision. A work choice that they didn't want to make but that the gendarmerie needed to solve.

"I don't get it, why do you coppers even care? It's not like," a thought crossed Uvogin's mind and he swallowed slowly. "It ain't the gendarmes who want to know, is it?"

He could only be implying that it was the cartel who wanted this solved. But that didn't make sense to Syretia. Even if Uvogin thought they were on the take, wasn't a stretch considering a sizeable portion of the force was, she had assumed the cartel was involved in the murder. Was Uvogin suggesting they weren't?

"It was Arty. I weren't involved, I know not to cross the Marte. C'mon Syl, you gotta believe me."