Twenty-fourth and Robette street, the corner home to a large, grey and oddly condescending building -Investigation Building, 3033. It's walls seemingly off balance, leaning away from each other as they grew to meet the wide rooftop. Windows were plainly square and no curtain could be found in any of them, the glass fit just so into the pane, no way of opening them. Each face seen was usually from a painfully bored employee pressing their face against the glass with hopes of escaping, somehow, into the world below.

Inside those dull building walls the hallways were narrow and bleak, the offices set with only the necessities (an occasional picture taped to the wall by those who hoped to brighten up the place), and bronze arrows painted to point any visitor in the direction of their main detective. Just in case they didn't know which way to turn.

Outside the streets were littered with scantily clad figures worn down by the rugged weather and the harsh lifestyles they lived, fallen metal cans placed every few feet or so in an attempt to lessen the clutter of litter; though, it didn't seem to be doing very well. The sky was the usual shade of dusty orange, the very sign of summer blazing as it boiled the concrete sidewalks, keeping from plant life to blossom under its unforgiving heat. Save for a few desert plants scattered haphazardly about in the cracking earth, the city was barren and deprived of vegetation. But however hot it may have gotten, the people of Themoul city were far too used to it to be bothered, continuing about with their daily lives, completely unfazed.

Besides the Investigation Building, apartments grew from the ground up, reaching in efforts to touch the skies above, shattered windows allowing a peeking inside as doors were barricaded, keeping the world outside out. Each one was different in a small way, but generally held a resemblance to the building next to it, with the exception of Blaire Zakrzewsky's offices.

It was completely out of place amongst the more bohemian and eclectic buildings styled to the architect's, or even the owner's, imagination. But the detective's office was plain. Bland and lacking that certain something that the rest of Themoul had, just like Blaire's imagination.

He just wasn't like the rest of them. Probably because he wasn't from the same background, traveling over from the Golden Land, leaving the Elite Government and entering onto the mysterious soil of the other world. His mind still set to the clockwork thinking that had been engraved into him since childhood, nothing change since he had left. Except for, maybe, he had become more accepting of the differences in people. Completely okay with working amongst, what his family would consider to be, impure creatures.

"Have you seen Duck?" The man turned to his fumbling secretary, her dark hair chaotically frizzed to match her frazzled nerves. Though he had calmed her thousands of times already, reassuring the young woman that she was in no trouble, she continued to mutter words frantically and apologetically. She wouldn't even touch the question at hand. It seemed that after he had lost his temper with her for destroying his library she was convinced he was always furious with her.

Blaire rubbed his temples, becoming increasingly annoyed with her, almost ready to snap. However, he had promised to keep his cool and wait for her answer, come hell or high water. He just couldn't see what the problem was. It was a simple question requiring only a simple answer, no more. Only his luck would have it that the most simple of inquires would be answered with a mass of words stuck together with shrill cries and mumbled curses. Waving hands and scatted papers was to be blessed only on his pitiful soul, dull grey eyes seeming even more bored than usual as they narrowed at the distressed and stammering frenzy. When would she stop? Would she stop? Would he be forced to endure her clamoring for endless hours?

What a day this was turning out to be.

Pushing the blonde strands of hair from his view, the man sighed heavily and jumped out of her reach when she had moved forward to grasp his hand. Lips curled to snarl at those daring fingers before a glare fixated itself on her, warning the woman in silence.

Taking in a relaxing breath, he lowered his hand, eyes closing as he did this. "Miss Ella," his sharp words brought a deafening silence over the woman, her wide brown eyes staring up at him expectantly. "When I called you I heard Dr. Duck's voice on the other end you assured me that he was there. Now that I have arrived to the office, and requested that you direct me to his whereabouts or, at the very least, inform me to where he has run off to, you..." He stopped, choking on his frustration, a thudding pain now pressing against his temples as his headache was swiftly becoming a migraine.

"Just tell me where he is."

She opened her mouth, as if to speak, then stopped. In such a state she quite rightly resembled a gaping fish. "I can't tell you."

Now he was just about ready to slap her upside the head harshly, utterly displeased with her work. He was even playing with the idea of threatening her with the loss of a job if she didn't give him some information soon. But, then again, he couldn't deny the fact that she was the only one capable of doing the job as his secretary. Well, at least the only one that had managed to stay so long. All others before her had quit before the week was out, complaining about something or another that had to do with him. Really, he couldn't keep track about what their problems were about. Not that it mattered to him, anyhow.

"You're helpful." He sneered after giving her a long, cold stare.

"I am?" Ella seemed frightened. "How could I?"

"I was being sarcastic," Blaire snapped, causing the poor woman to jump back and huddle into herself. She just was afraid of everything, wasn't she? "Now, if you do not mind, I'm going to go into my office and see if I can get a hold of Duck. Thank you."

And without waiting for her meek words to finish sputtering out, he marched on towards his office and curled long, tapered fingers around the brass doorknob. There was a brief pause, a moment to calm himself before he opened the door with a wide swing of the arm. As his eyes rose to give a look around the room, he was frightened and startled to see a pair of bead-eyes staring back at him. The sock puppet's bottom jaw moving only a bit before Blaire grabbed hold of it, including the hand in charge of its doings, and yanked at it.

A mess of dark hair could be seen fluttering as the hand tugged out of the sock and a slender body quickly moved away. "Fast reflexes," the mystery voiced, a silky sound of honey and oil with razor-sharp sarcasm following below it, heavy with a unidentifiable accent.

"For the love of-- Duck! I hate it when you pull stupid stunts like that!"

Blaire narrowed his eyes at the small doctor, adjusting the monocle stiffly. "I wish you would do something about your appearance," the blonde hissed, turning away from his partner.

Dr. Duck looked as though he were a wild man with overgrown hair that had mistakenly happened upon a child that had hacked away at only the back portion of his hair. All that could be seen of the doctor's face was a button nose, narrow chin and plushly pale lips forever stretched into a smirk. From afar Duck did, indeed, seem malnourished and naught to be a child. However, when at a reasonable distance it could be seen that he had the possibility of being a teen and was not in any way underfed. Rather, he just wore a lab coat a few sizes too big.

Pausing, Duck looked down at his nails, then at a mirror so vainly hung in Blaire's office. Twitching his nose he moved a strand from its place to another and took another moment before returning his attention to the self-crazed detective. "Better?"

Blaire just twitched.

Deciding to move onto a subject more appropriate to the time at hand, rubbing his now angry temples, he turned a fierce stare on his secretary, who quickly made herself appear to be busy, and twisted his lips into a frown. "If you're here then why wasn't I told?" Blaire spoke loud enough for Ella to hear.

"I told 'er not to. Hoped to scare ya, but yer reflexes are too fast. Every time I try," Duck shrugged, the plain white, dress-like coat wrinkling only slightly at the movement of his thin shoulders. "Every time ya win."

"Of course I do."

"Of course ya do." Duck chimed in reply, grinning widely so that his threatening canines could be seen very much so.

Blaire frowned. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

If there was anyone who could make Blaire scream with, assumed, innocent actions it would be the beloved Doctor Duck. The androgynous youth just had a talent for finding every button easy to push and would do so constantly, amused by every changing reaction he would receive. Even if he would be yelled, cursed and swung at, he found it well worth it.

Straightening the high collar of his clean-pressed blouse, attempting to regain his quickly depleting dignity, Blaire searched to cease the annoyance being piled upon him this day. "Aside from your childish antics, I do have need to speak to you-"

"Ya are speakin' to me. I don' see why ya keep goin' on and on about useless things. Why can't ya ever git to the point?"

"As I was saying!" His fingers began to curl inwards, into a tightly held fist. Why he put up with the brat doctor, Blaire could not place, but he just seemed to forgive him constantly and continue working with him, enduring the torment placed on him. "There has been another murder. Same look -skinned alive, tortured and, well, you know the rest."

It fell silent, Duck's lips falling into a frown. This worried Blaire, never before had he seen such a thing on the eccentric doctor's face, but as soon as this new case rose to the surface he had been frowning more than one could imagine. If he could pull back the long hair from out of his face, Blaire imagined that Duck's eyes would be flooding over with a sort of dreading fear. He couldn't bother to ask about it, however, worried that he would find himself in a mess of bits and pieces of his partner that he wouldn't be able to handle. With so little known about Duck, Blaire found that finding out anything actually frightened him. He was so content with the mysteries that there was no need in him any longer to push and prod until everything came bubbling to surface. Of course, he still demanded to know why Duck had no gender and that he never aged (with ten years of friendship passed, the doctor looked just as he had before). But, still, that did not mean Blaire went about investigating Duck's past.

"Where was it this time?"

Tripping over his thoughts, Blaire looked the other over briefly. He seemed okay enough, nothing really screamed that something was wrong, he just seemed bothered. Which, though better than what Blaire had been originally thinking, it still was odd and just as out of place as the Investigation Building.

"Over by the old factories," replied Blaire, crossing his arms loosely over his tensely hollowed chest. "Same place as the others, only, again, just hair of an inch difference. It's like the killer intends on creating a circle of bodies around the area." He rolled his eyes. "It's-"

"Disgustin'," Duck cut in, head lowered, as though he were staring at the floor.

Well, that could have explained the constant frowning. There wasn't much that revolted the part-time plastic surgeon, but Blaire supposed that what did would bother him, just as it would be so with anyone else. On the thought, he quickly reminded himself that he wasn't in the Golden Land any longer and couldn't be referring to everyone as they had the ability to be like anyone. Everyone was so different it was frighteningly to the boy who was used to archetype families and faces, nearly everyone looked exactly alike with the same smiles and same lies. It was refreshing, though unnerving, to be around such vibrant differences. And with that in mind, he made it a point to shove a note into the back of his mind to keep an eye on Duck, just in case something really, truly was bothering him.

Not out of compassion -no, Blaire refused to admit he felt anything other than narcissism and fear of women, but for the safety and stability of his workspace. No detective could do any good if their partner was suffering from the mind and all its doings. Simple logic.

"I know I told you we didn't get the case, but it seems we did." Blaire shrugged. The people in the city's government were such fickle and unsure creatures. "They're hoping we see something they didn't that'll help."

Duck looked up. "I guess that means other investigation groups will be there as well."

"You know it." Picking up his coat from a hook protruding from behind the door, Blaire rolled his eyes with an annoyed sigh. This would mean plenty of arguments, possible rumbles and oh-so many confusions set in place by hurried discoveries. Working with other groups always seemed more like a race, and in the end no one understand what they were trying to find. "Well, we should get going."

Duck nodded and bounded out of the office towards the hallway, Blaire fast at his heels. No need to waste time.

"Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!

Look to this Day!

For it is Life, the very Life of Life.

In its brief course lie all the

Verities and Realities of your Existence.

The Bliss of Growth,

The Glory of Action,

The Splendor of Beauty;

For Yesterday is but a Dream,

And To-morrow is only a Vision;

But To-day well lived makes

Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,

And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.

Look well therefore to this Day!

Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!"

Kalidasa