Chapter 2: Gangster's Paradise

The Lady of the Lake: Azura Arete

Trigger Warning: Non-derogatory use of the word qu*er, homophobia mentioned

Brass and piano kept their pace throughout Azura's altered rendition of Gangster's Paradise despite the speed she swam through the lyrics. She'd long since mastered the flow of each beat, passion dripping from her lips, mournful with this timely warning of the danger looming. The song itself had its roots in the hopeless sectarian violence that had dominated Dusk Side in her youth. Though the room danced with her under the pink triangle that marked Cyrkensia as the sanctuary it was, she hoped some of the mobsters— as what gay club could safely exist under the heavy eyes of the city without their protection— would hear the pain that soaked every word.

Though Cyrkensia was nothing compared to the fortress she'd intend to cross into the mouth of. The simple truth, tonight veiled in black and moving with the grace of the churning waters, the now little famous Lady of the Lake was here not for her fans. She came because Azura's mom had taught her to sing out all her fears, and her's numbered in the thousands.

After signing a deal with the devil in white just yesterday, this Corrin had set up the first interview that will no doubt gild or crumble her future as a detective. They'd leave tonight for the largest gay club in all of Dusk Side— and the only one she had never dared to enter— Windmire, an unassuming throne of the Queer mob, one Xander's many puppet organizations.

She didn't think she'd find Camilla there, even if rumors said she'd frequented the place, but it was an in, a way to work up the chain for clues. An in that can cost her job twice over.

The music wasn't enough, Azura felt restless even as she washed up in the green room, left empty as the manager Olivia had sworn to her it would be after every show. A meager seven dollars awaited her for two hours of song, not that Azura could even fret about that. She stripped from black to a blue coat, the dancer packed it away in a briefcase and the detective strolled out to the notice of no one.

Corrin would meet her at the apartment exactly at ten so in turn she'd need to be early. The journey was a short walk, especially with jitters and the fall chill biting her as she strolled up to the pitifully smashed townhouse she called a home. A family home that had only dropped in value since the city had grown, but one she'd never give up even if she had to have iron bars installed on the windows and grow okay with the way spray paint made a collage of her front door.

Inside, her home was warm despite the spartan decor. Extravagance could still be found in the woodwork and painted gold inlays or in the traditional Valinite hanging scrolls that now frayed at the ends from her grandparents, but the peeling wallpaper had not been replaced, touch jobs ignored. No fine vases lined the walls or paintings purchased in her lifetime. She could afford it now, but spectres of the past were rarely shaken so easily as that.

She only needed a few minutes to prepare: notepad, pens, her cane and badge, in her coat pocket of course, but paranoia kept her early. Had the luxury of time now, to plot out her notes and, shocking as it was, answer an unexpected call.

"Hello, Arete residence, I'm no longer taking cases."

"Azura, it's Takumi."

"Oh," a pause before Azura thought to continue, "good evening."

"Yeah, good evening… I wanted to apologize."

He sounded so faded, almost washed out by the breaking of a car outside, hell almost by the sound of his pacing thanks to the wooden floor he had installed in his home.

"For what specifically." A line that had never earned Azura friends before, but did give her insight to whether an apology was an admission or a request for absolution.

"I really don't need you making this more difficult," and neither did she when a car was rumbling outside. Still, the boy would never learn to speak earnestly unchallenged.

"I do."

"I know you do," he sighed on the other line finally standing still, she guessed, from the sudden stop in the rythmic groan of wood. "I got too focused on proving myself to Ryoma, this whole thing has me shaken up. Fuga was a criminal, but he did a lot for my community. Ryoma needs the Hoshidans on the force to be strong… and it's hard to, you know."

"You aren't letting him down Takumi," a car door popped outside and the tension rose ever so sharply in the air. He couldn't see her, but when a voice is heard, it's hard to remember they are half a city away. "And we won't. I intend to catch the ones responsible, I assure you."

"I know you do, you've always been the best on the force," Takumi dropped to a whisper, saying such a thing was far more difficult than any apology.

"I'll still need you," Azura lectured as sweetly as she could. "I just need you calm, it's hard to work with your hands around my throat." Then came a knock that made her jump. "I need to go, Takumi."

"Yeah," he whispered. "Be careful Azura, it could be dangerous. Not running around Dusk Side at night alone are you?"

"No, perish the thought." The knock came again, a quick look through the peephole caught a Corrin on the other side, almost shocking Azura with her shift in style. Black dress pants, white button up shirt, suspenders, and rolled up sleeves that showed off her muscles. Her long hair and headband clashed with such a butch look, but there was charm to be found in it. Less in the bulk of the man behind her. "I haven't even a lead to follow."

"Call me when you do."

"I will."

Azura hung up and opened the door in one unified motion.

"Evening," Azura offered, but only opened enough to reveal herself. The stranger behind Corrin had every sign of a storied mafioso; his faced had been scarred by either a bottle or some sort of serrated stood at such a straight angle Euclid would be proud, and even as his hair turned whiter than the dead and vanished, Azura had no question that this meager door could never hold him back.

"Evening. I'm sorry am I early?" Corrin asked looking up to her shook his head no.

"You're on time Corrin, but I did not expect to play host to two."

Corrin's eyes went wide and a rush of pink spread over her cheeks. Azura realized for an albino hiding embarrassment it must be a nightmare.

"Oh, he's my driver, Gunter. He's harmless, right Gunter?"

"A pleasure to meet you ma'am." He offers Azura his hand, gloved in black leather with an almost imperceptible tremor, a sign of physical trauma she guessed.

"Charmed." He proved gentle in his shake at least.

"I guess I should have driven here by myself, but I thought, well, I should give you the full… experience, I guess," Corrin interjected, her arm half heartedly offering the gold trim midnight lincoln behind her, a very… Nohrian aesthetic for a luxury car.

"Yes, the full gangster experience, I suppose." Azura gripped her cane and offered very little room to negotiate, shuting the door immediately behind her. She locked it twice before satisfied.

"I meant the Siegfried experience," Corrin clarified, for no one in the mafia was fool enough to admit the whole truth to any woman of the law.

"Quite," Azura replied as the trunk sprung open.

"For your cane, Ma'am." Gunter seemed not at all affected by Azura's toying with his boss. Not exactly happy to make her acquaintance, but frankly a being that defined detached.

"Thank you, Gunter," Azura relented to him and looked back to her host and possible kidnapper depending on if she did poorly in the upcoming interview. "Corrin, I believe you were to shower me with the splendors of wealth?"

Corrin turned a shade or two riper as she tried to laugh it off. Though the suede black leather interior, the three, six inch thick frames, and lock box center console provided plenty of distraction and concerning oddities, it was hard to miss her date for the evening when she lit up like a beacon at the slightest provocation.

"Hey, only a little! I'm not trying to be your sugar mommy, I promise. We're partners on a case, like real detectives. I just treat my partners well." She swung in from the other side, comfortable in such a lavish car in a way Azura didn't think she ever could be. Corrin might not be able to handle the slightest pressures from a woman, though Azura hoped that made her more honest— and pardon the cynismism— easier for Azura to manipulate for information, but she definitely was at ease with far odder things. "Gunter, to Windmire please!"

"I am a real detective, and I promise no partner of mine has tried to impress me half as hard yet."

She glares at Azura, trying to read what she will not. Years of abuse, work, a hellscape city, you're not going to learn anything staring into my eyes Corrin.

"W-well, my brother always told me that in business you should aim to impress."

"What a cheap cop-out, don't you think so Mr. Gunter?"

"Gunter don't you dare!"

They hit a speed bump, Gunter flicked the switch on a radio, a sweet woman's voice came on with the brass of a familiar Norhian set. A gangsters car ride, a cop imprisoned unarmed, but Corrin's hard to be scared of.

Windmire was an infamous establishment, a beacon of color in Dusk Side that was brave enough to fly rainbow flags day and night, and given the sheer bulk of the bouncers, that bravery was warranted. Azura's own escort through the flashy, smoke filled dance floor managed a Corrin and a half in height, squeezed tight into a pink suit that failed to suppress her bulk.

As the big band plucked away on a bass with a sax accompaniment that had Corrin following with a pop to her hips, an awkward faunt of joy between the unfeeling flesh golem Gunter turned out to be and the inherent hyper aware fear Azura had pumping through her body. She tried not to show it, but her eyes must have looked wild. She scanned for details, likely richer in facts than this interview would prove to be.

The club was still open for business, packed coming storm hadn't hit the people inside whom vibrated with the voice of that husky singer rushing through them. Management however, were concerned. Azura could see construction, clearly recent and rushed, of extra locks on the doors, only a third of the windows had metal blinders, and construction equipment hid in the dark corners. Three bouncers at the front, one more behind the marble bar, one blocking the store room. Azura could almost smell the gambling going on two stood at the back entrance, though likely they handled the business of flesh. Lastly, two more stood by the VIP entrance up the spiral staircase to the hawks nest above the world.

The nest of Azura's first source, a sharp climb up the rainbow painted steps that felt twice as hard as it was. There had been times she had considered coming here, but with a warrant and a police detail. Even that dream was filled with trepidation. The Queer mob was eighty miles from clean— what puppet of the greater Nohrian mob wasn't — however, they did provide a space… some protection to her own people.

All that, the fear, the little signals of a trap as she entered a lobby full of suits that eyed her than Corrin in confused suspicion. Her feelings of betrayal to both the force and the queer community was boxed up. Objectivism, coldness, calculation, all needed to come to bear once they opened the doors to the throne room of Windmire and face the Queen.

"Corrin!" Despite seeing her in the papers, Azura couldn't help but… she thought Elise Siegfried would be taller...

"Oh my god! It's so good to see you! Your highlights look great!" Azura couldn't hold back an awkward cough watching her client literally pick a crime boss up in a hug and swing her around the office. That she managed two twirls without knocking down one of the many bookcases or pride flags that decorated a rather unassuming loft was rather impressive. No one else seemed perturbed by the display, neither of their guards Effie, Gunter, or what she assumed was another one of Elise's men judging from his size, suit, notable gun, and chin like a cracked ball pein hammer.

"You need to visit more when things aren't cascading off a cliff! I miss my big sister. It's a lot nicer to hang out when you're not dragging 'detectives' into my club," Elise punctuated with an annoyed pout that made it hard to imagine that this tiny nineteen year old girl managed to usurp a small empire. It didn't help that she seemed to prefer sundresses, purple highlights through her blonde curls, and floral patterns over the trench coat and shades aesthetic that had marked a stereotypical gangster. Or even Azura herself. "Speaking of which, Detective, were you patted down?"

"Yes." Effie, the woman in pink, hadn't let her take a step inside without a painfully invasive search for a wire. Proved— if nothing else— that Corrin seemed the least cautious member of Siegfried's. "I have a cane and a notepad. The notepad is not admissible in court, as it's just my handwriting, if that wasn't clear."

"Pfft, I know~" Elise skirted herself out of Corrin's arms and right into Azura's personal bubble. "Corrin hopes you can prove Camilla's innocent before the rest of the force pulls something that's true, it's wonderful to meet you Detective Arete!" She gifted her hand and Azura couldn't help but think it felt more like a request to kiss her ring than to shake.

"Corrin hired me to discover the truth, only that. Not prove her innocence."

"What's the distinction, given my sister didn't do it?"

Azura shook her hand and took her seat in the leather couch opposite Elise's desk.A one on one, despite the guards as an audience and Corrin as a nervous referee with her back to the glass wall that separated them from the club at large.

"You're Elise Siegfried, boss of Valla's Queer mob, correct?"

"I'm Elise Siegfried. I own Windmire, the largest gay club in the city and lead the Queer Workers Union, an association that helps find work for people in our community." The first questions would set the baseline of trust and viability of information. Also gave her an excuse to note all the little oddities of the clubs security under the guise of record keeping.

"The same union with multiple members in prison for sale of illicit substances and prostitution?"

"Uh, nope, not even a little, detective. The Union has been trying to get people out of the drug trade for as long as I've been in it. Dusk Sides drug problem has everything to do with the Chevois gangs. My community has enough problems without people abusing our pain and pushing heroine on us."

An interesting argument Azura had to admit, considering the marijuana trade was absolutely dominated by the Nohrian mob dabbling in psychotropics. It also conveniently left out some of the accusation.

"Are you also denying that outside this very club there aren't prostitutes available under your direct control?"

"Sex workers, and those kids wouldn't be forced into it if the city actually treated us fairly and gave us traditional work. This clubs a safe haven, no matter what you do, if you're part of this community we will keep you safe." Azura wasn't surprised to see Elise sell herself as a passionate paragon of the community. The station knew her as a gangster, but media at large admired and vilified her as an activist and rabble rouser. "We protect our kids, give all Queer people a happening place to be, and we have a good time doing it. Have you ever enjoyed a Windmire night yourself, Azura? I can totally call you that right?"

She wanted to change the subject.

"And you take money from these sex workers? Typically that would define you as a pimp."

"No!" Elise's blood colored her face and Azura nearly considered ducking in case of a book. "We take donations from people who we've found work, but it's not something we demand. Sure lots of sex workers crash at Windmire when they're desperate, but it's all pay what you can, and no one brings their work into my club."

"Really? Because we once arrested a trans woman whom told us that for a small cut of their earnings Windmire offers protection. Something akin to a baseball bat to any client that gets violent."

"Azura, she's not lying, I know Elise wants to make something amazing out of this place." Corrin entered and Azura barely spared her a glance before her analysis was tainted by those sad red would get in the way of an honest profile, whether either of them believed what she was saying or not. "Believe me."

"Noted. Elise, if you would continue?"

At first she said nothing, took a huff of air, leaned back, and let that famous Siegfried rage drain… if not all the way.

"In my honest opinion anyone who would hurt a poor girl trying to get by deserves a pair of broken legs," Elise might have seemed less serious while she said it with all that cute and positive cheer, but Azura could see the family resemblance shine. "Azura, I may not be a super smart detective, but I'm getting a feeling this is not at all about what happened in Dawn Side."

"No it's not," Azura admitted, eyes drifting to her notes. Elise: Half truths, avoids lying, Training against perjury? Asks questions to change subject. Distrusting. Talker. Proud. Charismatic, knows it. Wants to be liked. Dislikes drug trade. Confirmed rumors of pulling out of it, Confirmed protection racket, Exploitative? Dislikes being seen as a pimp. A profile constructed, now all information could be filtered with this as the standard. Azura almost thanked her for being such good participent. "I don't suppose you'll offer up Camilla's location."

"Ha, no."

"I have to try at least once," Azura joked to drain out the tension, letting a relaxed shrug and posture put Elise at ease.

And it worked.

"I won't hate ya for it cutie," Elise stuck out her tongue and took whatever charm that flirting might have had and took a double barrel to it. Corrin seemed to agree with her soft giggles.

"Then let's see if we can't build a timeline."

The story starts at nine-twenty, four hours and thirty-three minutes before time of death, Camilla enters the club with a shorter woman known as Beruka. Elise claims it's not unusual and Corrin confirms. They share drinks with Elise, by her story at least two glasses of wine that she took in the very seat Azura compiled her scenario, an erie detail in and of itself. Nothing about the conversation lent itself to the murder, mention of crime could not be ruled out, but Elise had started pouting when questions strayed too far from Camilla and Fuga's murder.

"She left around eleven, was this odd?" Ever so terribly it was absolutely within the rational schedule for the murder. A two hour hole in her alibi if the drive was included.

"Um, sisters not a drunk, she never stays till last call."

"It's passed eleven now."

"That's because Corrin is totally a drunk," Elise was interrupted by a flying couch pillow.

"I barely drink!"

Azura hid her reaction, the shocking spike in her pulse, the shudder in her lungs from a sudden exhale. Family or not, Azura would never think the head of any of the Dusk Side mafias would take a cushion laughing.

She did all the same.

"Someone doesn't wanna look bad. One day your little sister will teach you how to really hold your liquor." Elise tossed in a wink that triggered Azura to audiably tap.

"Considering your skill at holding liquor, you'll remember clearly the end of the night. Was there anything Camilla mentioned about where she was going, who she would see next?"

Elise leaned back, eyes shifting down into the swirl of her pink mixed drink, watching the melting ice dance. Azura had come to notice this was her posture when deep in thought a good sign.

"No, we were getting a little sentimental about family stuff, talked about Corrin some, about stuff growing up," Elise kept thinking even as her lips ended in an uncomfortable pout.

"Really?" The subject in question couldn't help asking.

"Yeah," Elise went back to smiling, a shine in her eyes as she glanced at her sister, "she loves you kid, almost too little sisters not getting the affection she deserves." Despite her pout, Elise gave a small wink just to make sure Corrin didn't take it to heart.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, she just left right after with Beruka and drove off."

"And did you hear from her again? Did she call you or speak to an associate?"

"No," Elise answered and torched up Camilla's alibi in one swoop, "she went home. How often are you up this late?"

"Often," Azura paused for a sigh. "The next morning, did you hear from her? Or what happened to Fuga?" Sure that was a leading question, implying that Elise would know at all might make her comfortable enough to admit that Nohr knew, and too early to match the timeline.

"No." Azura felt her teeth clench. "I didn't hear until after people were already pointing fingers at Camilla. I was honestly really shocked." Elise rolled her head along the back of her chair, the hour long session had drained them all. "You know, Corrin, I still haven't called Rhajat and Hayato."

"What?" Azura couldn't catch herself, her mind cracked against his name. "Hayato was the second victim?"

Azura had never seen a deeper shade of purple than Elise's eyes as they went wide and glistened with tears. She yelped like a startled dog and recoiled from Azura, her gloved black hand tried and failed to build a wall between them.

"No, no, you didn't just say that, you did not!"

"Elise, I'm so sorry." Corrin rushed down to her sister, arms quick to cradle her from what Azura had thought was an understood given. She had seen gangsters cry before, usually during arrest, the cocky ones, but this many tears for…

"I think it's best you give the ladies a moment," Gunter— the man as massive as he was easy to miss— pulled her from the macabre scene of grief and right back into the now uncomfortable leather couch.

"Yes," Azura noted in a whisper, "I'm very sorry for your loss." No one replied.

The club seemed less intimidating on the climb down, the patronage had dwindled to little more than a baker's live band as well, singer swapped out for an energetic singer with emerald hair and eyes that managed a gentle catching voice even with only a piano to back her. Elise never spared on talent at least.

"I did not think she would be so troubled," Azura fished as she allowed Gunter to escort her towards the bar.

"Elise and Hayato are fairly close. She dated his sister Rhajat for a 's a regular here."

Azura took a stool, while Gunter seemed to prefer standing, The possibility he was less guiding her and more holding Azura hostage came to mind.

"I'll take a mojito please." Azura did not wait to see if he would order to turn right around. "Seems like a strange couple, a Nohrian and Hoshidan seem to me to be a source of conflict."

"We're not at war anymore."

"You can hate without spilling blood."

Gunter shrugged.

"Nohrians view conflict as a fact of life, we don't take it personally. Holding grudges just make the peaceful interiums more tenuous. Fuga seemed to share that world view to some extent."

Azura sucked in a small breath, the urge to poke inside and see what darkness comes out overcoming her self preservation. "Do you feel so dispassionate now, after a Hoshidan gave you that scar?"

"Not at all," he answered with the same cool he did anything else, though his sharp eyes seemed to lose just a bit of their focus. "Garon gave me these scars and he's dead." Interesting. "I'll go see if Corrin is ready to turn in for the evening. I trust you can handle yourself?"

Azura raised her new glass and let the taste of mint on the rim be her answer. This trip had been neither as fraught with danger nor as directly informative as she in the odd moments, the reactions as opposed to the stories, in the construction on the walls not shattered alibis, she found something to work with and sort through while she watched the emerald girl sing her heart out to the dying late night crowd.

Until Corrin, of course.

"Celebrating? Though I don't think I got you much to celebrate. I don't suppose Elise will work for an alibi?" Corrin took her seat next to Azura, that same sense of the familiar coming off her as it always did, calming Azura despite how uncalming it should be. It wasn't terribly difficult to understand why the mobsters used her as a diplomat. "Can I get a vodka tonic?"

"No, though I wouldn't say we have nothing to celebrate. Is Elise alright?"

"She's going to be okay, she just needs to cry it out. She's on the phone with Rhaj- Hayato's sister right now." Corrin smiled and mouthed a thank you as her drink was placed in front of her, heavy stuff considering Elise's claim of being a lightweight. "So what do we have to celebrate? That smart mind of yours at work, detective?"

"Nothing particularly smart, just noticing things that should be true and aren't. Let's assume now that your brother Xander is the head of a mafia, and let's assume he ordered Camilla to kill Fuga and restart the mob war, finally pushing into Dawn Side perhaps. What would you expect him to do in regards to his underbosses?" Azura leaned in to watch Corrin's expresion, see her own mind at work.

"I'd have to let them know, especially if this is about being on the offensive,You'd need to have people mobilized, prepared for retaliation. Hypothetically of course." She was catching on, an aware smile crossing those pink lips.

"Of course. And as we sit in this impenetrable fortress, does it strike you as mobilized?"

"No," Corrin nods, a giddiness striking her. "Sure more staff, but all the construction. If you have time to prepare these, defensive measures would be done, hell being on the defensive at all makes no sense, you're the one who started it! So Xander must not have done it?"

"Not quite," Azure cuts off after another sip of her drink and holds up four fingers. "We do have a restricted possibility space. One, Camilla didn't do it. Possible, but not free from the burden of proof, figuratively not legally. Two, Xander is an idiot and did not consider that."

"If you knew Xander, you'd know that 'possibility space' is at most three—"

"Three, Camilla commited the murder independently, a long list of shaky but potential motives would need to be confirmed but we're trying to prove her innocent not guilty, so it lacks the burden of proof in regards to our private investigation." Corrin's retort was to suckle on her own drink, fair considering. "Or four,, Xander did not trust Elise to tell her. Elise had a personal relationship with the target, she would not approve of their murder, no?"

"No she wouldn't," Corrin admitted, "but Xander wouldn't. I don't expect you to believe me, but I know my brother, he wouldn't lie to Elise. Keep her in the dark at first sure, but not lie to her after the fact."

"I do believe you," Azura shot back with a smile, "But not because I trust a mobster to be honest, it's Elise's reaction. She knew Fuga was dead, and to prepare for a retaliation, keeping out a critical piece of information like Hayato is poor you're intending to lie, the most important part is to—"

"Is to control the narrative!"

Azura nodded, happy to see Corrin follow along, not that the logic was difficult, but it required a certain willingness to parse and jump forward. A skill one might expect in this field of work, but the feeling of kinship was...pleasant.

"We need more information to confirm any of these theories. Too many unknowns, and deduction isn't evidence."

"You really are brilliant." Azura felt her whole body tense up as Corrin's arm reached over and pulled her into a hug. Considering the girl's paleness, Azura always thought she'd somehow feel cold… instead… very warm indeed. Relaxing, too much so, one mojito was too much already it seemed. "Thank you so much. We can really figure this out."

"I...suppose we can."

"Aww you two!" Elise's voice sent Azura right back into tension. She'd just relaxed too. "Group hug!" Nohrians were always...so touchy. Elise, for a girl so small, had a very large arm span. "Okay girls, I feel like complete shit so, for tonight, we are having shots!"

Elise really was honest about how piss poor Corrin is at holding her liquor. The girl might as well been on fire from how red she was after three shots. Last call came just before three, though a slurring Elise swore the two of them could stay the night. Azura, of course, refused. She had work, an overwhelming desire not to spend a night in a mob capital, and as cute as Corrin could be, avoid how handsy her and Elise got the more they drank.

The issue was Gunter had vanished. What good sense Azura had seemed to vanish when she took Elise's offer of getting her a ride and not simply, like a sane, capable, not utterly moronic detective she supposedly was, take a taxi.

Her drive back lacked the same glamour or completeness it had to Windmire. Azura directed the woman— the butch bodyguard Effie— three streets off to avoid telling the head of the queer mob exactly where she lived, not that she couldn't ask Corrin. Perhaps it was too much to ask that her memory be washed out and boiled under the pressure of Norhian Rye Whiskey, and of course Gunther was a loose end. She had never prepared for him.

"We're here, need anything else miss?" Effie punctuated her question with a bite and devoured one shockingly large section of danish.

"None, thank you."

"You're welcome to leave your number on the way out," Azura glanced at her. "In case you need another ride?"

Well, Azura considered, she is from the Queer mob.

"Despite your charms, I'll pass. thank you, Effie." She nodded and Azura shut the door.

Alone at three in the morning, any street in Valla could feel like a hunting ground, Dusk side or not. It made every car driving by a boon, every streetlight a blessing, and every man she crossed a threat. There was no unlearning it, the fear that kept her moving quickly down Notre drive, and her tenure as a detective reminded her it was warranted.

This, however, was the first time in years Azura shared the very Norhian experience of being as scared of police. Something that hit her at full force once she strolled passed Nyx's house and took just a minute too long admiring the hand dyed art she left hanging out her second story window. Takumi's car— the police lights gone from the top— stepped out of Azura's neighborhood gas station. All thoughts of why he would be out here, without a badge, at three AM, on the wrong side of town were filed away as soon as Azura's eyes scanned over his famous ponytail. She twirled down the back alley, just kept going, and begged he never noticed.

Azura's heart rate never normalized, even after it became clear— as she passed dumpster after dumpster, fire escape after collapsed fire escape— that he was not coming. She almost wished he was, because the man shadowing her steps was definitely not Takumi, given the half a foot taller build. His pace didn't scream violence, but who walks down an alley in a grid city unless you're looking to get murdered or the murderer.

Curses, Azura could literally count the steps down the road she would have been from her house without the added turn, a five minute affair, simple little stroll passed her partner, what business did he have asking her about a night time walk anyways? None of that mattered when the man following her began to catch up.

Behind her, he was a lunge away, maybe a lunge and a half, and ahead the alley way widened and spilled into the broken sidewalk of a dark street. Azura could sprint, make a gamble on someone else just on the other side of the concrete threshold, or that this possible assailant was slower. Not that his dim outline showed any sign of a pained gait..

There was another option. Azura slowed, her cane no longer tapping at the gravel, but clutched in her palm, the handle fitted like the nose of a hammer. Any man who thought to shadow her had best beware. One step too far and she'd show him how use to blood on the pavement she was.

Azura twisted her whole body for power, the torque sending the cane handle right into the side of the man's face. She watched his whole body twist and come crashing into the black brick of the apartment to her left.

"God damn it, Detective!" her assailant shouted from the floor as blood seeped through the cracks of his fingers as he held the the flow of a broken nose and hopefully split lips. "I wasn't going to touch you or anything, just give you a spook, love." He spoke at a notably sweeter pitch now, looking up with soft chocolate eyes, smooth grey hair, and a gentle, bloody, smile. Azura raised her cane again.

"I've seen you charge into battle after battle, pelted by bullets, but my man I'd never thought you'd be felled by the mightiest of walking canes!" The gratified shouting brought Azura quite a few revelations: that some of the young man's blood was speckled at her face and also exactly how it felt to look down the barrel of a trench gun.

This new man left his chest bare with ornate tattoos, ones Azura intended to memorize for the future police report if she lived to fill it out. Blonde too, though half of Dusk side was. Neither looked particularly Nohrian, hoshidan, or Vallanite for that matter, with divergent accents to boot.

"Our darling detective looks convincingly shaken, yes?" The grayed man offered, smiling despite the bloody teeth. Somehow, between the shaking, the fear, the utter displeasure at having blood on her cheeks, Azura regretted not damaging that perfect smile.

"You let her kick the shit out of you idiot." A woman's voice nearly had Azura spinning until she remembered a barrel pointed her way. "Detective Arete, right?"

"Yes?" Azura whispered, daring to take a look behind her. The woman was dressed in a glistening leather jacket, face hidden by an embroidered mask that failed to cover her red-brown eyes, and did nothing to abstract the crimson twin ponytails that made her striking at a night like this. Not that Azura would pay that much mind compared to the snub nose on her hip.

"You know how you're looking for Camilla?" The red woman's fist, gloved in a beautiful soft suede black, pulled back, "Don't."

A/N: Remember when I said it's anachronistic? Gangsters Paradise is an excellent example, Postmodern Jukebox as an excellent rendition worth listening to if you'd like to see what it'd sound like filtered through a modern approximation of 1920s jazz

One of the things I regret about this story is actually not writing it in first person. I realize Noir fiction just works better with that intensely personal and limited scope. Would you all find it jarring if I switched next chapter? Let me know?

I spent a lot of time thinking about Elises mob and whether to use the term LGBT or queer mob, but given the periods I'm pulling from I decided for Queer, I apologize to those that this upsets. Also for homophobia while it'll be a societal reality it's not likely to play a huge role. I mostly kept this to relate to how traditionally ethnic/communal mobs form in marginalized communities as a response to their marginalization, both as a force that does what the privileged structure won't, but also as a parasitic entity that also profits off that desperation. So in keeping with that having the present realities of homophobia (probably of the more 70-90s variety than 20s since I'm pulling from 20-90s mob history fits better as marginalized but also in it's own rights movement)

That all said let me know what you think! Also thanks so much to TigerLilly for editing this chapter shes a fantastic help and I love her to death thank you!