He loosened up the blue tie and unbuttoned the first bottoms of his white shirt as he looked in his black pants the packet of cigarettes he swore he had. The pedestrians didn't mind him as he took out one of the nicotine filled paper and put it in his mouth, another soul in the big city, another poor guy trapped in "The Grasslands"; he even had the looks. A lighter materialized from the pocket on his raincoat and lighted the cancer stick that was hanging on his mouth; the bitter, irritating smoke of his cheap cigarettes filled his lungs as a feeling of partial relief filled his head. It was time to go, to star the real work and not the sad excuse of honest living he had been doing all day in that office. He had waited patiently to the end of his shift; he had even been polite to the nagging bitch that insisted on that he was a pig and had no sense of justice. A smile crept to his face as he remembered the face she got when the file of her robbed house accidentally fell on the trash can and never got out.

The first thing to do was to find a lead. The princess was not so helpful with the details but he knew the right person to go for them. After all she didn't came to him for his sweet smile and hot looks. Finn walked the street, vaguely familiar with his surroundings and somewhat alert of the small thief's that populated the area, three cigarettes later he was in front of his destination: "The molten lava". One of the many pubs and bars that sprouted in Ooo like bad weed, pun intended, but this had something especial. This was the reunion site of the "Fire Gang". Quite a vicious bunch they were, the kind that shoot first, go ape shit and destroy your house and then your neighbor's house and then ask questions… to the surviving people. Entering the bar he looked by the corner of his eyes a crazy dude with a carton that instead of apocalyptic prophecies read "Hello" and that was waving at all the people. The guy he was looking for was easy to spot, hunched over the bar, talking to the bartender and laughing out loud. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt, converse and some ripped off jeans, his red hair in a mohawk and somewhat skinny silhouette standing out over all the other buffed up thugs; not precisely the kind of guy that did a good job in concealing himself.

-Flambo- he called out as he reached the bar.

-Finn, dude, come and have a drink!- he then gulped the last of his beer and ordered another.

He gladly accepted the invitation as he seated on a stool next to the said man and kindly ordered a plain beer with no spit on it.

As many other things in the Grasslands, Flambo was a mystery. Finn never got to hear the story of how a smart guy like him ended on the "Fire Gang" and he doubted anybody knew. No official name he knew about, no digital prints and no people that knew him before entering the gang made difficult to track his backstory. All just knew him for Flambo, and if what he said could be trusted, he was born out of the interspecies breeding of a mountain puma, a wolf and a witch in the most crazy sex-ritual-orgy-session ever, raised by harsh mountain people in the wilderness at the north of Ooo, deciding that hunting wild life was not his thing, he came into the city at the tender age of sixteen to make a life out for him and have some fun. Such was his sense of humor.

-What brings the good detective to this fine bar? - he was a little tipsy. Good.

-We both know there is no "fine bar" nowhere around here-

-As serious as always. What happened to the cheerful policeman I used to know?-

-It was washed up by this piss of a beer and cheap cigarettes-

-Relax a little, at least here you can find good quality booze-

-Don't get me started on that- Finn said and took a large plunge of his freshly and cold mug of beer

-I heard of you and Flame-

-Good conversation starter champ- He took another drink of his mug- It didn't worked out-

-Uh, why, you two looked happy-

-Daddy didn't liked cops-

This case had a thing to bring out his suck-ish love life. First it was his platonic sweetheart Bonnibel and now it was the chick he had some of his most happy times before it all ended. To his shame, he should had saw that coming, his father being the leader of the Fire Gang (even though he didn't knew at the beginning) and he being a "clean" cop, things ought to get ugly. A few bruises and broken bones latter his father convinced him to never see her daughter again… but just in case he send her away of Ooo. Funny how a famous criminal didn't wanted to get his daughter involved in the family business

-Harsh dude, harsh. Lava man another beer for my friend over here and charge it on my tap. Let him drown his sorrows in alcohol -

The giant and somewhat reddish bartender just looked at Flambo and grunted –Flambo I swear to Grob, the next time you call me that I'm going to break your nose-

-Yeah, yeah, so what make you come to your old friend Flambo?-

-I have a job-

-Another lady lost her cat?-

-No, this is serious. Bonnibel came this morning-

-Oh-

-Yea, oh. Seems like there are some unusual fishy business going in her little enterprise, some people making deals behind her back-

-And you want to know if there have been some strange movements, right?-

-Yes-

-So what's in for me?-

-The usual, 10% from the "reward"-

-Ja,ja no man, that doesn't cut it. This is big and you know it. I don't want too much, just 20%-

-Fifteen-

-Twenty-

-Fifteen and I will consider coming to you for another job-

-Good, fifteen and a round of beers-

-Suit yourself-

-So, who I am to tell you and who are you to hear but there has been the rumor of some unusual shipments delivered to the Princess warehouses late at night -

-What warehouses?-

-Pier nine, warehouse 3. Big ass shit, wouldn't miss it. -

-The contents?-

-Don't know-

-Names?-

-Some weird fellows that keep them to themselves. They go by the name of Fish-People or some crap like that, nothing more. These dudes just appeared out of thin air one morning. Weird as hell I tell you-

-Something else?-

-Finn, man, this looks like a big operation. They have been working a week nonstop-

-Good to know, expect the paycheck in your mail-box-

-I don't have mail-box remember, some douchbag exploded it-

-An old friend maybe?- Finn slammed some money in the counter, the first part of the pay.

-Sarcastic aren't you?- At this Finn walked away, starting to light another cigarette- Lava man another one- And a sickening crunch could be heard as a choir of laughter erupted from the people on the bar.

Good, Finn thought as he looked the gray sky that loomed over him, it was going to rain. Better make haste to the docks. If Flambo was right there will be movement this night and Flambo, although was such a sneaky little punk, was good at what he did.

-Hello- said the same weird hobo as he passed him, Finn absentmindedly putting a coin in a cup beside him and returning the greeting with a weak wave of hand.