The Help and the Half-Man

Tyrion grimaced when as he waddled into the room. "Is it really necessary to display this woman in such a morbidly grotesque fashion, Bronn?" His partner was already at the scene of the crime, coolly moving the deceased's arms and legs in ways that would be impossible if they were unbroken. Bronn's brogue filled the dingy room. "You'd rather I place her in a fancy dress, then? Maybe some garters and stockings as well, like those wenches you fancy down in SoHo." "At least I treat them with respect," hissed Tyrion. Nobody was unfamiliar with the Half-Man's post-work proclivities, but the still puddle of blood and reek of death didn't really encourage conversation on the subject.

Tyrion shifted his gait and took a closer look at the slowly cooling body, their main course of the day. According to the autopsy report, the cause of death was not trauma from the broken limbs, nor was it the deep cuts all across her frame. In fact, the report provided to them by Dr. Pycelle stated that this woman had immense amounts of water in her lungs, and died from drowning. Bronn inched closer to Tyrion and gave him a rough slap on the back in his usual convivial yet thuggish way. "So what will it be today, Half-Man? Did she 'drink more than she could swallow?' Or oh, I know, she 'kicked the bucket, and it landed inside her?'" Beyond his penchant for whores, Tyrion also held the title of "quippiest" man in NYPD's Special Crimes Unit, a grammatically incorrect title concocted by the Chief. Bronn, it seemed, was trying to take his mantle. "Bronn, you're the Help, not the Humor. I'm the one with the quick wit and the boyish charm, and you're the one who scares off the riff-raff with that pouty mug of yours. Let's keep it that way."

Tyrion languidly walked around the room, observing the murder scene and noting the marks on the poor woman in the center. "Also, I was going to say that all answers come from the Heavens, before you so rudely and insipidly interrupted me," he murmured, pointing up. There, in bright blood, was a stripped buoy, the unmistakable symbol of Aurane Waters, the Lord of the Waters.

Bronn whistled softly. "Ah, I've always wondered how you can see so much from way down there. Good find, Half-Man. Let's get back to base and report to the Chief, he'll want to know about our watery find." Grabbing their white Armani suits and Ray-Bans, the two cops sped off to station central, their home away from home.

"I want you boys off the case!" Chief Bobby Baratheon was red-faced, spitting, and likely drunk. He was in one of his better moods. "My gall bladder is acting up just THINKING about the mess you buffoons caused at the tournament last month. You both are loose cannons, and not the fun kind that I was back in the day. Now that we have these damned themed serial killers, we can't afford another media parade. And look at you two, the Half-Man and the Help, you'll attract a bloody menagerie of reporters! A fucking zoo I tell you!" Bronn was about to speak up, but Tyrion nudged him, and shook his head. The most surprising strength of the verbose detective was that he also knew when to shut up. Chief B kept howling. "And this is the Lord of Waters we're talking about! Bronn, I KNOW your history with that guy, I can't trust you to keep your sticky hands to themselves. And you, Half-Man, you only encourage him and skim off the top! No way, no how, not letting either of you take this murder. I'll only give you 48 more hours to wrap up your loose ends and pay off your informants and then I'm pulling you. Yes sir, I want you working on a new case first thing in three days, until then I don't want to see you, and I especially don't want to hear either of you. I mean, not unless you make an arrest. Then I may blow a gasket, but I'll welcome you back with open arms. Hey, maybe you'll even put away that freak Waters! Now get out of my sight," and promptly ejected them from his office.

"What…what just happened?" Tyrion scoffed at his partner. "Bronn, this occurs every time, and you never notice. The Chief sends us packing, but before that he lets us take down any of the scum we're tracking. It's like he can't help but keep us on the force, as if our antics bring him and others some entertainment. Anyway, this day is almost over, and I don't want this case to drag on too much. Let's take down that Lord." Bronn nodded gravely while putting on his Ray-Bans, "Let's send him to a watery grave." Tyrion grimaced for the second time that morning. "Keep at it, Help, you'll get it at some point before we get pensions."

Thankfully for the detectives, Tyrion's patsy knew exactly where Aurane Waters was hiding, his usual haunt: Sea World. They zoomed off to the local attraction, and thankfully found Waters' secret cave by the orca tank right before the park's closing time. The silvery-haired freak was laughing away in his lab, in his own world and unconcerned with the approaching lawmen. Only when Tyrion shouted "Hands up, Waters!" did he give them even a sidelong glance. Bronn shouted "We know you did it, you Lord of Making Water, come quietly and I won't have to de-hydrate you. Permanently." Tyrion groaned, which turned into a moan when he continued listening. Aurane Waters suddenly turned to Tyrion, pointed a menacing pistol at him, and spoke softly. "Mr. Bronn, I believe he had a deal regarding your partner and my continued freedom?" Bronn clucked and shook his head. "First rule of corruption, never say your full plans," and promptly shot the Lord of Water multiple times. Tyrion was shocked, but quickly gathered his thoughts. "Bronn! I thought your illicit ways were done! Thank you for saving my life, but what was the meaning of this?" Bronn gave his partner a pat on the back, still rough but seemingly more warm. "The fool paid in advance, of course I was going to get rid of him before I finished the job! It was all part of the plan, you were never in any real danger." They drove off into the sunset, having finished another case in a reckless, ridiculous, yet effective manner.