'Riviers, get up.' No response. The beefy, surly man pursed his lips. He was not in the mood for Riviers' crap today. 'Get up before I kick your ass.'

The person cocooned in the small mountain of blankets turned, but otherwise showed no signs of life. A muffled 'Shut up, Harding,' was the man's only response. He rolled his eyes.

'Good morning to you too. It's 7 a.m, Riviers. Seven in the morning.'

Riviers grunted and sat up, disheveled black hair peeking out of the blankets. Turquoise, hooded eyes blinked sleepily at the brightness of the room. Catching sight of the burly chief bandit standing grumpily at her side, Riviers promptly slid back down under the covers.

'What's that got to do with me?'

'Appointment. Kerning murders. Now.'

Chief Bandit Harding leant against Rivier's night table as he allowed the news to sink in. He grinned as he counted in his head.

Three.

Two.

One.

Bam.

'HOLY SHIT, Harding, why didn't you wake me up sooner?!' Harding smirked as he began to watch his boss dash frantically to and fro, exchanging a blue pajama ensemble for a dark Pilfer, a blue striped hoodie and jailbird shorts all the while swearing away like a sailor.

Stumbling bare-footed out of the bedroom, Riviers grabbed an apple and practically inhaled it with the aid of a power elixir. A godly-scrolled Red Craven loaded with crystal ilbis was swiped from the table along with another bottle of power elixir. Harding followed, helpfully filling in his boss who was struggling with breakfast.

'There's two out there, all done up. Professional types.' Harding checked his Communicator. 10 minutes late. He grinned. 'You might wanna hurry up.'

'Hurrying.'

Riviers flash jumped through the living room, much to Harding's distaste, and kicked down the front door. An expansive office was revealed, decorated extravagantly in soft, creamy tones. Seated on two burgundy armchairs were the 'professional types' Harding was talking about.

Both of them turned their heads to Riviers, who stomped inelegantly to the high-backed crimson armchair and sprawled across it. One of the visitors- a balding man dressed in a tuxedo that hinted of designer, furrowed his eyebrows.

'You're a girl,' he curled his lips in distaste. 'A little, hermit girl.'

Kali Riviers raised an eyebrow and flipped a curl out of her eyes. It sprang back immediately into position. Giving up, she gave the men a cursory glance, ending up focusing on the older man. She smirked as he recoiled at her glance.

'Kali Riviers, private investigator at your service.' Riviers drawled and smirked. Harding entered the room, raising an eyebrow at his boss' challenging tone. But he couldn't blame the two men who were blinking dumbfoundedly at her. He had his own doubts when he first met the charming Kali Riviers.

Hopefully, they'd get over themselves pretty soon. Riviers didn't spare much time and attention for anyone. He smirked. Unless they were made of mesos.

The balding man's partner was called Kellen Sento. He was one of the Dark Lord's advisors, and his best friend. Which resulted in his eternal distrust of all things Kerning. He trusted a hermit as far as he could throw him, which was, admittedly, not very far at all. So he had his doubts as to who to go to when the mysterious murders began to happen.

The Dark Lord couldn't care less, and quite frankly, he didn't either. But when a Ranger was added to the murder list… He could've sworn half of Henesys was camping outside the Dark Lord's bar every morning. That, and Athena was threatening to send her own people in to investigate.

No one wanted a meddling, angry Bowmaster sticking her nose into their affairs. Kerning was Kerning. Uncontrollable, sprawling, Kerning. You could spend lifetimes and even one percent of the many issues Kerning had couldn't be solved.

People died. People got severely injured. People got robbed. But money still rolled in, and the city lived on. Only when things got completely screwed up did it arouse the Kerning Authorities' notice. And even then, the chance of them actually doing anything was fifty-fifty. And the chances of whatever they did actually working was even less.

The Dark Lord, Kellen realised, was quite brilliant. If he tried to interfere too much with Kerning's affairs, he would be 'disposed of'.

Simple as that.

But the Dark Lord didn't interfere. He was brilliant at delegating duties. In fact, he didn't do very much at all except hoard mesos in case of an emergency. Emergencies happened. Advisors got blamed. Advisors were executed. Mesos were still hoarded.

Kellen Sento felt a drop of sweat trickle from his forehead. His elevated status as a friend of the Dark Lord wouldn't save him if he failed. If he failed, heads would roll. His own included.

So he started searching. Searching for a person who had a brilliant mind who could get him out of the dirty mess he was in. Searching for a person who had the skills and the pure knowledge to save his ass.

He got the name of Riviers only after descending into the drunken hell that was the Dark Lord's bar. Apparently, this 'Riviers' was the best if he wanted the murders solved.

'If yer want a murderer dead, Riviers' your hermit. If Riviers can't do it, yer don't have much hope anymore, lad.'

He felt another drop of sweat slowly trickle down his face.

13 archers. 5 mages. 19 warriors. 2 thieves. None of them connected in any way, except they were all missing.

Oh, and they were always, always in Kerning.

'Riviers,' he said at last, his mind returning to the tasteful office and the bored stare of the hermit. 'I need you to help me.'

'I don't do help,' was the first response. Riviers gave the new speaker the once-over. His taste in clothes were pretty expensive, no weapon in sight. The guy was probably a very smart civilian, or got his weapon stolen. He smiled at her, insincerity as plain as day.

'Of course. What kind of rates are we talking about, here?'

'High. What kind of job are we talking about here?' Riviers smirked and leant back, relaxed. Kellen somewhat envied her carefree manner. He was so highly strung, he was going to snap any moment.

'High-profile, of course. We'll even provide you with assistants.'

Riviers groaned and ran her fingers through her hair frustratedly, making her curls bounce back with renewed vengeance.

'I don't want sidekicks,' she grunted. 'I manage fine on my own. Just gimme a fund and pay me, that's all I ask.'

Kellen Seto bit his tongue to prevent himself from yelling at the young hermit. Really, could she be any more conceited? He rolled his eyes.

'You don't know the scale we're talking about here,' he slid a folder of info across the table. Riviers shook the contents out and studied them, occasionally tossing interesting-looking ones at Harding. After a minute or so, she yanked a drawer open and tossed two nondescript black files on the table. Without looking away from the papers, she grimaced.

'You might as well get to know the people you're working with. Applause to the Kerning Sentinel for managing to keep their mouths shut for once,' Riviers groused, chucking a small pile of paper at Harding. 'It's usually all out by now.'

'Henesys, Kerning and Ellinia taped their mouths shut. Even our thieves don't appreciate an arrow to the head,' Kellen reached for the files and handed one to his partner. Sheets of flawlessly typed pages greeted him, and he sighed. Too much paperwork could do that to a person.

Name: Kali Riviers

Age: 17. As someone once said, age is hardly detrimental to intelligence.
Level: 114. So going to change soon. Just watch me.
Job: Hermit, of course.
Other job: Kick-ass P.I
Location: Kerning City.

And anything else is classified as 'personal'. We don't need to go any further than that, do we? I mean, I don't know who you are, but I'm just here to find out who killed your old auntie and make them pay.

Seto chuckled at the witty descriptions. It wasn't exactly an impressive résumé, but actions spoke louder than words. And the hermit had quite a bit of street cred, which was what counted. His less easily amused partner spoke up.

'Excuse me, but all it says here is that your name is Harding and that you're a Forensic Investigator. Every other thing is filled in as 'You don't need to know',' the old man paused. 'Is that normal?'

Riviers lifted her eyes from the papers and stared frankly into the old man's dull, weary orbs.

'You have a giant bald spot on your head,' she stated matter-of-factly. 'And you're still alive. Is that normal?'

A steely hit the wall. Riviers looked up again from her papers and grimaced. The throwing star was embedded in the wall, taking what looked like a small piece of grey matter with it. She glared accusingly at Kellen.

'What's wrong with you?'

Kellen Seto shrugged.

'He was getting on my nerves,' he explained. 'Plus I thought your kind weren't squeamish.'

Riviers rolled her eyes as she walked over to the wall and tugged the steely out. Splinters rained onto her plush carpeting and the bit of brain followed. She sighed, already adding up the figures in her head.

'No, I didn't mean that. But did you have to ruin the carpet and the wall while you were doing it?' she glared, punching numbers into her Communicator. 'You're paying for damages.'

She looked down again and huffed in annoyance as the old man's body slumped sideways onto the ground, blood gushing out onto the cream carpet. Harding smirked.

'You might want to give the undertaker a ring while you're at it, Riviers.'

Kellen Seto had seen and heard many things in his time, and he had never seen anyone so casual and, well, so annoyed around a corpse. Even the undertaker had some sort of silent respect for the dead.

'Hey, are you going to help?' Riviers raised an eyebrow, still glaring while furiously punching numbers and letters into her Communicator. 'Or are you going to just sit there and smirk?'

Seto grinned and told the hermit that that was exactly what he was going to do. Riviers shot him a dirty look as she waited for the Kerning Cleaners to pick up.

'There's a little voice in my head telling me that we aren't going to get on well.'

Kellen's face turned into a mask of concern, as he silently giggled inside.

'Have you seen a therapist for that? 'Cause that really isn't healthy.'

Riviers glared.

'Shut up.'

But as she looked at the corpse of the old man, her glare faded into a look of mock regret.

He wasn't the first person to ruin her walls and her carpeting. Then she smirked and abandoned all looks of goodwill.

She was sure that he wouldn't be the last.

'Well, you are officially an agent of the Kerning Authorities,' Kellen paused. 'With full medical benefits, insurance, pay, and a shiny badge. How does that feel?'

Riviers raised an eyebrow as her mind began to formulate ways to kick the offensive advisor out of her office.

'To be honest? I feel dirty.'

'I will send your assistant tomorrow and establish a private funding.' Kellen Seto began tapping figures into his Communicator. 'Five hundred million per body recovered- which means the full amount of 19,500,000,000 mesos will be paid if you recover all of them, plus an additional 11.5 billion mesos if you dispose of the killer, or killers.'

Riviers sighed and grimaced, debating whether to threaten the advisor with bodily harm.

'I told you, I don't do sidekicks, and I don't talk numbers until the job is done.'

'But-'

'Just get out of my office.' She shoved him out of the door, slammed it shut and locked it quickly, while Harding stood by, amused by the spectacle. She smiled sheepishly at him.

'You have to finish up a couple of cases,' Harding headed back through the door into the kitchen and grabbed two packs- one black, one blue. He shook his head as Riviers groaned.

'We could've finished them ages ago,' He threw the blue pack at Riviers, who grabbed it without looking up from her Red Craven. 'But a certain someone decided that a vacation to Florina Beach was more important than paid work.'

Riviers mock-glared at him.

'Psh, we were following a lead, as you very well know,' she replied defensively, She sifted through her pack and slid a fistful of steelies into her throwing knives holster. She dropped another bunch of ilbis into a small pocket designed especially for emergency throwing star use. Not that she needed it, but it was best to be prepared.

'Please. It was a fake lead and you knew it, Riviers. Don't try and insult my intelligence.' Harding glanced at her feet. 'You might want to wear some shoes.'

Riviers simply made a 'W' sign with her hands and muttered a 'Whatevs' at Harding, slipping on some black snow shoes and a pair of bubbling slippers. Then she brightened up.

'So who's up for slaughter today?'

'Pick a number, zero to one.'

'Oooh, tricky,' Riviers tapped her chin with her index finger. 'I pick 2.'

Harding rolled his eyes at Rivier's antics.

'Okay then. I have the autopsy, the mundane details and everything connected to the girl,' Harding flipped through the thick folder clearly labeled as '1'.

'A grand total of 75 pages.'

'Helpful. Let's go.'

Riviers chucked a Henesys Town Scroll at Harding while using her Communicator to scan the scroll for any sign of illegal duplication. She tutted at the slowness. Who would bother duplicating a Henesys town scroll anyway?

After a few seconds of this, she instinctively closed her eyes as a flash of blue light enveloped her, her atoms scrambling but contained within a field of magic that transported her straight to the archer town of Henesys. Mana forced her atoms to fuse back into something recognizable and deposited her none too gently onto the teleporting point of Henesys.

Riviers fell onto an unfortunate young archer who hadn't gotten out of the way quickly enough after using the town scroll. Like a cat, she landed softly and on her feet. Fortunately for the archer, instead of the full force of the spikes of the Black Snow Shoes, he felt the smooth, plastic surface of the Bubbling slippers squishing his cheek out of shape.

Riviers rolled off him quickly, without remorse. A few seconds later, Harding leapt down onto the poor archer, who quickly fell unconscious after being crushed by the large man's weight.

She sighed.

'We can't even go anywhere before being labeled as public menaces,' Riviers rolled her eyes as several Rangers shot them dark looks. She flipped them off and grinned at their scandalized faces.

'Mature, Riviers, mature.' Harding accidentally stomped on the archer's face, imprinting the soles of his Black Snow Shoes in red marks on his cheeks. He muttered a little 'oops' and trudged after Riviers.

'Whatever, Harding. Let's get to the Green Apple before the kid archers get off school. I'm not in the mood to throw them out.'

The Green Apple Café was a favourite haunt of Riviers and Harding. Too frustrated to think? Go to the Green Apple. Nothing else to do? Green Apple. Trying to work through a bunch of cases? Screw the office, the Green Apple was the place for messing around with paperwork.

'We'll have the usual, Jamie.' Riviers plopped down onto the wooden chair, looking around the café. It looked strangely deserted without the usual mob of rangers and snipers crowding around. Harding noticed as well. He turned to their waiter.

'What happened to the people?'

Jamie grimaced. 'If I knew, Harding, I'd be dragging all of them back here without a second thought.'

Rivier leant back in her chair and snuck a sneaky look at Harding. 'Probably something to do with all the recent disappearances, eh?' Her mind turned back to the rangers who were standing near the teleportation point. They had seen nobody else but them and the younger archer. Harding mouthed a 'subtle' at her and she rolled her eyes.

'There's a bunch of rangers standing around, and nobody else,' Riviers' tone was off-hand, as if she couldn't care less. 'What's with that?' Eager to oblige his only customers, Jamie prattled on.

'Yeah, they've set up guards and all that to patrol around. And a curfew. A curfew!' Jamie snorted and started whipping out mugs and trays. 'I haven't had a curfew since I was 15!' He shook his head in disgust, pouring a murky brown liquid into both mugs. He crushed 2 bars of chocolate and started mixing them into the mugs. Flames leapt from his hands and engulfed the mugs. A few seconds later, he dropped the cups in front of Riviers and Harding.

'Cheers, mate,' Harding smiled half-heartedly, raising his cup to Jamie. Riviers followed suit.

'So what's the case this time, huh?' Jamie nodded at the small stack of folders on Harding's left. 'Seems like you got your work cut out for you.'

Riviers and Harding exchanged a look. Riviers smiled awkwardly.

'Uh… No offense, buddy, but client confidentiality and all that…'

Jamie got the message and backed off behind his counter. 'Okay Riviers, call if you need anything.' Riviers smiled and nodded, her attention already on the folders. She took a sip of the burning hot cocoa and sighed with contentment.

'Hit me with your best shot, Harding.'

'Mm. Chocolate's good,' Harding noted. 'Heard of Delia Harley?'

'Dunno. Don't really care. Those guys don't even pay well enough anyway,' Riviers grumbled, tossing her sleek black communicator at Harding. He caught it with ease and read the name in large blocks letters. Max Derrickson. 'Never heard of the guy.'

She ignored him. 'I mean, it's not like we're a frickin' charity. It's Kerning, for the love of Scania. No one's even heard of charity!' Riviers threw her arms up in frustration.

'Stop ranting. We have work to do.'

'Do your worst.'

'Fake suicide.'

Riviers grimaced. 'Screw you, Harding,' she caught his amused glance. 'Don't mean it literally. But you know how I feel about asking strangers random questions.'

'Who's Max Derrickson?' He chucked the communicator back at Riviers. 'How the hell do you get all those names anyway?' Riviers grinned mischievously.

'I have my sources. Max Derrickson was Delia Harley's boyfriend. They dated on and off for about 3 months.'

'Moving on from the romance- The useless Godmaster trainee idiots immediately dismissed Delia Harley's death as another one of those breakup suicides,' Harding slid a sheet of paper over to Riviers, who immediately put her mug on it. Harding pursed his lips.

'Look at it, genius.'

Riviers pushed the mug off the paper and was met with the gory corpse that was Delia Harley. She studied it for a few seconds and raised an eyebrow. 'Something tells me that the blood spatter pattern is messed up. It is actually blood, right?'

Harding nodded. 'Tested. Delia Harley's blood.' Riviers began to muss up her hair, as she did when she was frustrated or just trying to come up with new ideas.

'Okay, hand me the file on the blood spatter.' Harding shoved a sheaf of paper her way, his mind already on something else.

Riviers studied the picture again and turned to the file, her expression slightly puzzled. She started tugging at her curls- a mannerism that she had adopted after years of dabbling in a combination of detective work and forensic science. Harding smiled affectionately, preparing for the outburst that was sure to come.

Three.

Two.

One.

'Impossible,' Riviers snapped, stabbing the picture with her finger. 'Logic states that…' Her eyes widened as it clicked. 'Oh. Oh. Oh.'

'The body was moved,' Harding finished, smiling. Now it was confirmed and made official. 'Now what?'

'Now… We dig a little deeper.' Riviers smirk deepened and Harding felt a shiver run down his spine. It was Riviers' evil smirk. It meant that she had a case by its neck, and she wasn't going to let go. And hell, she'd go to crazy lengths to get the information she needed. He started chucking the papers into the large file and got up, heading for the door.

'See ya 'round, Jamie.' Riviers smiled at the fire mage as he waved and followed Harding out of the door.

'Where're we going?' Riviers called a cab with her communicator. In less than ten seconds, the familiar white car was parked and honking it's horn. Riviers slipped into the backseat, waiting for Harding to get in before replying to his enquiry with a smirk.

'We're checking out the alibi.'

'You're Max Derrickson's alibi, Nex Derrickson?' Riviers extracted a steely from the small bag on her throwing star holster. She quietly positioned it near Nex Derrickson's thigh.

'Err, yeah. I'm his bro.' The young bandit looked slightly frazzled. But then again, it was easy to be frazzled when you had a six foot eight mass of muscle standing over you, cracking his knuckles. Riviers put her left hand on the table, appearing for all the world to be completely relaxed. Under the table, she was twirling the Steely, occasionally jabbing the unfortunate bandit with it. Nex Derrickson felt a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his face.

Riviers looked mildly irritated. 'Harding, stop cracking your knuckles,' she snapped. 'It's annoying, and it might reduce hand strength.'

Harding shrugged. 'So?' He rolled his eyes. 'What's that got to do with me?'

'You're a Chief Bandit. You hold daggers. I don't need you dropping them 'cause you crack your knuckles.' Riviers shot him 'The Look', which meant that he had better quit it or he would soon find his job extremely uncomfortable.

He stopped.

'Thank you,' Riviers snapped sarcastically, and turned back to Derrickson. He immediately flinched. If the humongous man had a reason to be scared of her, he probably did as well. He managed a tight smile that quickly faltered when she glared at him.

'You don't want to lie to me, Derrickson,' Riviers smiled sweetly, which caused goose bumps to appear on Harding's arms. It was… unnatural. Harding shivered. 'Really, you don't.'

Derrickson's eyes widened and he shook his head. 'I'm not lying!' he shouted quickly. Too quickly. He gulped as Riviers stood. In a blink of an eye, she raised her Steely and slammed it into the table. A full second later, the table exploded, showering Derrickson in splinters. He whimpered and cowered away under his chair.

'If I find out that you're lying to me, your end will be more painful and messy than the table's.' With that, Riviers left the musty apartment, Harding following behind her. Harding rolled his eyes.

'You know he was lying to you, right?' Riviers shrugged and continued to make her way through the small labyrinth that was the Kerning suburbs.

'His end will be all the sweeter,' She hauled herself up a ladder and vanished into a poorly lit alleyway. Sighing, Harding chased after her.

'Sherry Harrison?' Harding squinted to see as he approached a crossroads of about three paths.

'Yeah. Sherry Harrison.' He pinpointed Riviers' voice and lunged forwards. Heck, it would be embarrassing the get lost, and he definitely did not need Riviers teasing him about it for the next week or so. He managed to catch up to her with a healthy dose of Haste and they wound their way through the dark tunnels of Kerning.

According to the case notes, Sherry Harrison was a bubbly 19 year old cleric. She had dated Max Derrickson for 3 months, before breaking up with him. Not included in the case notes, but included in Riviers' knowledge, was that Derrickson had gotten nasty after the break up. He began threatening the Harrison family, tried to burn their house down, and frequently broke into the young cleric's room, much to her dismay.

And when Sherry began dating another person…

Riviers had her doubts that Derrickion, the jealous, controlling bastard that he was, would just let it go and get over his ex-girlfriend. Yeah, and maybe Athena would give the Dark Lord a lap dance in the Kerning Fusion bar.

Now all she had to do was to gather enough evidence, or she wouldn't get the rest of her payment from the family. Stealing the Kerning Police's case notes made everything so much easier.

Riviers stopped abruptly in front of a grungy, rusted door, causing Harding to knock into her. She glared at him, pointing at the disgusting, uncared for door.

'Sorry.'

Riviers shrugged and smiled. 'You knock,' she looked at the door in distaste, 'I don't want to touch that.'

Harding rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like 'girls', but he went ahead and rapped smartly on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Harding gazed into the weary eyes of an old elderly woman.

'Who're you?' She snapped, eyeing Harding with suspicion. 'We're not behind with the rent this month.'

Harding shook his head and smiled, raising his hands up in defense. 'Hey, I'm not here for the rent, Mrs. Harrison,' he said. 'Just here to ask you something about your daughter.'

The woman faltered for a moment and swallowed. 'Sherry?' She whispered. Her grey eyes darted from Harding to Riviers who was almost completely hidden by his bulk. 'Who's that?'

'Oh, um, that's my friend,' Harding explained. If he said Riviers' name, all he would get was a door slammed shut. 'Uh… Her name's Kali.' Harding heard the growl behind him and winced. He would not get off with calling her that name easily.

The old lady rolled her eyes. 'I'm old, but not old enough that I don't recognise one of the most brutal thieves in Kerning. Come in, Riviers. You too, Harding.' She stepped aside to let them enter.

Riviers and Harding exchanged a glance.

'I'm not sure whether to be proud or to be insulted.' She whispered under her breath, following Harding in through the door. He rolled his eyes. 'And don't think I've forgotten about the name thing'

Harding gulped.

'So. Let me get this straight,' Riviers started typing in her Communicator, 'Max Derrickson was still obsessed with Delia even after half a year of not talking to her.'

Harding's lips began to twitch. His boss could be so blunt and uncaring at times. He almost lost it until Mrs. Harrison shot him a withering look, and he sobered up.

'That can't be healthy behaviour. So what did he do?' Harding said, trying to be helpful.

'Well, he began stalking her where she worked, at Niora hospital,' Mrs. Harrison added with pride. 'Then he started ransacking her room, leaving bouquets, silly little notes and presents.'

Mrs. Harrison began sobbing as she continued. 'When Delia started going out with a respectable young Ranger, he went insane. He showed up at our doorstep at all times of the night, demanding that Delia talk to him,' she wept harder. 'He had his entire group of bandits with him, so Delia did. Talk to them, I mean. And they really upset her, but she still refused to end her relationship with the Ranger.'

The elderly woman began mumbling incoherently, then suddenly dashed out of the room and choking sobs began to erupt from the next room. Riviers stood up awkwardly, pocketing her sleek Communicator.

'Well… We'll just let ourselves out now, Mrs. Harrison. Bye.'

Harding kicked the wooden door open, causing flakes of green paint to rain down on them. Riviers snickered.

'Looks like we have green dandruff.' She took off her pilfer and brushed all of the flakes of paint onto Harding. He sighed and shook himself, making a small pile of the paint on the ground.

'Where're we heading off too now, oh great one?' He said sarcastically. Riviers raised a finger.

'Point.' She smiled grimly. 'We're going to pay Max Derrickson a delightful little visit. Then we're going to see Whiz.'

'Who's Whiz?'

Riviers smirked. 'The key to this entire case.' Then she began zigzagging through the streets of Kerning's slums, Harding groaning after her.

Disclaimer: I don't own Maplestory and do not claim to do so.

A/N: Damn, I edited this and I disconnected when I clicked 'Save'. But yeah, I've always liked the idea of a kick-ass P.I in Maple. So here's the result. Sorry if it's boring. D:

About Communicators: Think PSP with touch screen, virtual keyboard and no games. I'll draw one if I have the time.