"Curiouser and curiouser," Officer Caitlyn Kiramman whispered to herself about the crime scene. She examined the odd crystal debris that was scattered about, but clustered mostly near a wall. It was about knee high in parts and was hollowed in four spots. Two standing adults?

There were some canisters. Cait knew better than to directly inhale from or rattle it, but studied them before picking them up with her sharpshooter steady hands. They were light–too light to be an explosive dub–and probably a type of gas. She gradually turned it upside down and a whiff of smoke emerged.

A ledge was smashed through. It seemed larger than a normal adult would have caused it. Two adults? The ones that were crystalized? Some heavy machinery? She saw cuts on the rail, on the floor, on the crates. They looked to be caused by a sword, wielded with great speed, great force, or even both.

At another part there was some green liquid and scraps of cut metal. The liquid had to be chemtech. The metal was light. To Cait's eye it was well-crafted, but not mass produced. Must be of the undercity. Perhaps an internecine battle for the shipment.

The smell of a lot of shimmer was recognizable to any enforcer worth their salt. That was doubly true when burnt. A pipe-looking object caught her eye. With care she moved it around with her foot then picked it up. A flare. The fire was intentional. Was it always the plan of the attackers or was it out of spite? A distraction to escape?

A clipboard lay covered in soot and ash. After picking it up and brushing it off, she skimmed the shipping list. No surprise that drums of shimmer are not included. Cait was disappointed at seeing the seal of approval on it. Bribed? Coerced? Would be good to interview the customs official.

In the last section of her forensics above deck there were some chards of a pink glass. They appeared tempered. Only someone or something exceptionally powerful could have done that. What was it done to? A weapon? An armor? She brushed around the floor and found a screw. From the same thing?

Cait frowned. Accumulating questions was good, but generating the right answers was difficult. Nigh impossible without enough time and/or someone to bounce the ideas off of. Not easy to find a partner for the greater investigation. Certainly not one from the undercity.

There was something else strange above deck and it was what wasn't here. No blood. Probably an intense gang fight with crystals, smoke bombs, swords, fire, and chemtech weapons, and she didn't see any blood spatter.

Heading down to the lower deck, she quickly found blood in abundance. A hand moved to her mouth and then pinched her nose. The stench of death was well-known to Cait as a hunter. They often had servants do the dressing, but her father had not unkindly insisted that noble status notwithstanding, it was important to understand the weight of killing a creature. Like the first time as a child she had removed the guts of a deer, she kept the bile in her throat.

Still, this was very different. Forcing herself to look as a detective, she noted there was a club and a pole on the side of the bodies. Perhaps dropped to make them seem as if they were armed. They wore makeshift clothes that seemed like gang or paramilitary uniform, but dull by Zaun standards. Both also had Ionian masks.

One was bifurcated from a hip up to the opposite armpit. It was done in a single deathblow. That would require the force of that executioner that was just transferred to the Dredge or even greater.

The other was also devastated and devastating. Right arm and right leg severed. A cut across the torso, though shallow. Was the cause of death exsanguination? Shock? Per–

"Help!" a weak voice cried from the body.

Cait jolted back and almost ruined her uniform, but then her nature kicked in. "Medic! We need a medic down here!" She shouted and slammed the flare against the ladder to make a loud clang. "Send for the ambulance too! There's a survivor!" She did not care about whatever trouble she would get in.

She knelt down. "Help will be here soon. Stay with me," she assured and took off her enforcer jacket. She struggled to tear the thick material. "I'm Officer Caitlyn Kiramman. Who are you?"

The gravely wounded man glared before looking away. "Enforcer? I-I…"

Rip! The jacket was torn in half. Splitting off strips from there would be easier. "I'm not here to arrest you. I need you to stay conscious."

"...V."

"Vee. That's a nice name. I'm going to use tourniquets to stop the bleeding," she explained as she tightened one strip above where his leg ended. "What happened?"

"We… Akshay! Did he–?" V exclaimed.

Cait hated answering, but felt obligated to be honest. Especially if he failed to make it. She tightened another strip on V's shoulder. "If you mean the one that came down with you, then I'm sorry."

V started crying. "The Firelights… the monsters… all of them?"

Cait tore more strips as makeshift bandages and applied direct pressure to the chest wound. The Firelights are monsters to V? So it was an internal fight. But how did they have so many resources?

"Officer Caitlyn. Of course. Who is injured?" the Sheriff asked coolly as he descended, followed by a medic.

"He says his name is Vee. The wounds are critical. Will an ambulance be here soon?" Cait asked as she moved aside but not away for the emergency responder to attend to them.

"Be here soon, sir," Marcus corrected. "I know the situation is stressful, but I would've thought your mother would've instilled formality and courtesy in you."

Cait kept her eyes on Vee, assuming Marcus could not see her "what the hell is wrong with you!" microexpression. "Sir, yes sir. Still asking, sir."

Marcus was looking at Akshay's body. "They should be, I sent the pneuma." He frowned and checked the bottom of his boots, presumably for blood. "I don't know how much of a priority it will be. It would be different if it were one of us, of course."

One of us. Caitlyn pushed her thought on that away and focused on Vee. She kept direct pressure on his chest as the medic installed an IV. "What did you mean 'all of them' earlier?"

Vee had become paler and less alert. Still, he looked back at her. "Dead? All dead?"

Cait shook her head. "We don't think so. A witness said at least three went into the drainage pipes on some type of personal flotation device."

Vee smiled feebly. "Then… still hope. Silco lost…"

"Silco the–"

"Of course, Officer Caitlyn, when the ambulance arrives we will need the arresting officer to stay with the suspect and handcuff him to the cot and the bed. You're supposed to be guarding your family's pavilion, so it can't be you."

Vee's exhausted eyes narrowed. "Arrest? You lied."

The medic touched Cait's hands softly. "I'll apply direct pressure now, officer. You're relieved," she told her.

Cait stood up and turned to the Sheriff. "Respectfully, even if we are arresting Vee, they aren't fleeing us, sir."

Marcus glared. "Standard Operating Procedure, officer."

Slowly, Vee pulled off his mask. Cait looked at him. He was a teenager, a few years younger than Cait herself. "All the same," Vee likely would have screamed if not so feeble. "Wolf. Fox. Both just see… sump rats as snacks."

Cait shook her head. "It is not like–"

Vee's face contorted in fury. "Liar!" He spat at her boots. Reddish saliva hit its mark. "Liar! Liar!"

Cait felt her eyes water. Marcus looked at the expectoration with an expression of recollection.

"Your help was crucial, but it would be better for my patient for you to leave, officer," the medic said with gentleness.

Nodding, Marcus looked Cai in her eyes. "Yes. Since you've been away from your post, you should cover guarding on the next few night shifts."

With her mouth dry, Cait rasped, "Yes, sir." She ascended the ladder. She had numerous clues and questions to sort through, but one thought dominated in her mind. It was a line from a book her dad had read to her many years ago. "Sentence first–verdict afterward."