[Mousen]

((Click for human form art. By breakit666 of DeviantArt))

"You know, random acts of violence aren't too terribly uncommon. For all we know, some psychopath could have beaten her husband to death and then buried him in their backyard. It happens." The young woman said, turning to the figure behind her.

"Do you really think that is likely?" The voice that answered seemed to be picking it's words very carefully, as though it wasn't too familiar with them, though it had no disconcernable accent.

She shook her head. "Not at all, but it's a nice theory."

For the past three weeks Petra Riggs and Alan Connors had been sat in their office in the run-down part of Lamenolai without so much as a single phone call, let alone a case.. So when the wife of one of the city's richer bankers had phoned them to ask them to investigate her husband's disappearance, they couldn't have been happier to oblige. For whatever reason, Mrs. Winters was convinced that her husband's disappearance wasn't exactly mundane, he'd only been gone for around twenty hours and the police couldn't do anything about it, but Andrea Winters was pretty worried.

"Seems a bit odd, though. He goes to work in the morning and everything's normal, then he leaves and heads over to this storage unit to collect some odds and ends and then... poof, gone." Petra commented, as a means to break the silence. She was an odd figure, picked out in the dreary late-evening light as little more than a shadow. This shadow happened to be wearing a it large, bright orange woolly jumper that was so fluffy that, in Alan's opinion, rather made her look like a strange kind of gibbon. (Not that he'd say anything. Out of Petra's collection of 80's sweaters, that one was probably one of the best.)

They walked around to the back of the storage facility, though both of them doubted they would find anything of use here. Weeds grew up through cracks in the tarmac and the whole atmosphere was a gloomy one, even with the brilliant red sunset in the background. It seemed separate to this place somehow, as if the storage facility and the sunset didn't quite exist in the same reality.

"I don't like it here." Alan said, quietly ignoring the sound of Petra tripping over yet another pothole in the heels she wore.

"Neither do I, Al."

[Indigo]

Howell was in a bad mood. Arguing with a hysterical woman for half an hour does that to a person.

Okay, so she wasn't hysterical, not actual, literal hysteria. She was just extremely worried and she had a job for him and that was all well and good, of course—just that it was a little, a tiny bit difficult to track somebody if you didn't know who they were, you know? But this was a piece of information she was not interested in knowing, and anyway she was certain he could do it anyway. Apparently whoever had referred her to him had given a glowing review, which made him wonder who it could have been.

So he took down all the information, of course, because what else did you do? They could use the work, anyway. And then he spent a few hours going through his files—well, so they weren't exactly files, not per se, but they worked similarly and everyone seemed a little more comfortable if he called them files—to see if any of the past or current criminals he watched might have had anything to do with it. Three hours, no dice.

And then Falcon said she was bored, so now they were doing fieldwork. More productive than looking through the files, of course. And since you can't really track someone who you haven't identified, what they had decided was that the best course of action was to track Mr Winters, instead.

So now Howell Sanders, excellent shadow and extremely underappreciated if you asked him, not that anyone ever did, was sitting on the roof of a storage unit and watching.

"See anything?" he said. The enormous bird next to him shook her head. Impossible to get a Kirund onto a roof by normal means, so she couldn't talk for the time being. Howell sighed. He could hear footsteps somewhere, but it was hard to figure out where, and while he could see just fine there wasn't much there to see. He wasn't even sure what he should be looking for. Criminals returning to the scene of the crime? Evidence of illicit activities left carelessly out in the open? General suspiciousness?

Then he heard something closer. Somebody stumbling, maybe—he had excellent ears, it was in the advertisement too, if by advertisement you meant rumors. He leaned over the edge of the roof, eliciting a questioning sound from Falcon.

"So I think," he said quietly, "that we might just possibly have something."

[Mousen]

The silence dragged on for a few minutes as the two figures searched around the building. It looked like their only reasonable lead was a dead-end. Lovely. Petra was starting to think the entire thing was a waste of time. Worst come to worst maybe she could pull in a favour and have Pip or someone cook up a tracking spell for her, or something. The last thing she needed was to mess up the first case they'd had in weeks.

"Everything seems perfectly normal to me, Alan. Maybe we should just go," she huffed, giving the place a final once-over.

The man beside her shook his head. "We're being watched." The comment was made casually, in the same way that one might comment about the weather.

"What? Is this some sort of weird Construct intuition thing or do you have actual-"

"They're on the roof." If you could describe Alan in one word it would be average, everything from his short brown hair to the way he dressed (smart, casual, but some how managing to be completely unfashionable). It therefore stood to reason that Alan should be anything but average. In fact, he wasn't even human.

Petra looked concerned for a moment, but she pushed the emotion aside. "I do believe that's an asphalt roof, you know. You ought to be careful." She called, her voice only quavering slightly.

[Indigo]

Wh—but—

How had he been spotted? He was the best! He had not made the slightest, the smallest, the most infinitesimal sound, he hadn't even leaned out that far to look and certainly not far enough for someone on the ground to actually see him! And Falcon was a big bird right now and noticeable, sure, but there were a lot of big birds in the world and plenty of them hung around places like this and he should know because he'd seen them, how could they know someone was watching them—

No, calm down. No use getting hysterical like that useless woman. Howell had been careless once or twice, true—not that it was common and not that he hadn't taken great precautions this time as ever. But anyway there was most definitely no reason at all to get all worked up. Falcon was looking at him in a funny way. Had he flinched? He hoped not, that would be so embarrassing.

He leaned over the edge again, trying to get a better look, and heard a shuffling of claws and rustling of feathers as Falcon followed suit. She'd have to be careful not to overbalance and fall.

"Oh is it really?" he called down. "Well you know I don't think it'll be a problem. I absolutely always land on my feet, you see." He imagined Falcon rolling her eyes, and didn't much care.

[Mousen]

Well, he didn't exactly sound threatening. That didn't mean much though, did it? "Aren't you lucky." Petra replied, folding her arms. There was a pause before she added, "...I don't suppose you've murdered any bankers recently, have you?" Beside her Alan sighed audibly, hey it was still worth asking.

As it was, at this point Petra wasn't too entirely troubled by the figures on the roof. They were unusual, certainly, the bird doubly-so (and she was concerned, certainly), but it didn't appear that her an Alan were in any immediate sort of danger. (And if they were, both of them were quite capable of taking care of themselves, for the most part.)

Oh god, Alan was giving her that look again. The 'I'm-right-again-and-you-should-definitely-be-really-impressed-because-what-on-earth-would-you-do-without-me' look. Self important bugger, if he carried on this way he'd be asking for a raise next, of all of the lousy things to do. She'd gotten on perfectly okay before him and his stupid face had shown up, brilliantly, really. And where would he be without her? Stuck in a dusty old library ran by over-important house cats with beaks, that's where.

"And you can stop with that face, you." Petra hissed at him, under her breath.

"I don't know which face you mean," Alan lied.

[Indigo]

Howell laughed. "Well of course I haven't, that's not really my thing. And I could maybe in theory possibly get someone to do it for you, but I don't think it would go over well with the law you know. Then again, that's not why you asked." No need to make it a question because really, if you were looking for that kind of thing you wouldn't be so terribly, blatantly obvious about it. "Don't worry, I'm not here to kill you or anything. Maybe I could but I don't see any reason to just now. It's a good day, or should I say night?"

Well now he just sounded like a crazy person, which wasn't really the goal. Certainly wouldn't make them think he was safe to be around, anyway, though with them hanging around here all sorts of useful information might be lost. It wasn't his job to complain about that, of course, and if something really serious had happened here he'd find it eventually. But still.

What were they doing here, anyway? There was no reason for someone to be here this time of night, what with the place being, you know, closed. Unless they'd gotten really absurdly lost somewhere, or...

No, they couldn't, they absolutely wouldn't, there was just no way they could be--but the woman with the sweater had said murdered bankers and you didn't get that kind of coincidence around here, you just didn't. After all they were in a storage facility and who just wandered around a storage facility for the fun of it? And there was something he'd heard about coincidences and population density which, in fact, he hadn't paid very much attention to--but the point was things like that did not happen.

"Hey, look," he called. "I don't mean to pry, but I don't suppose it might just be the tiniest bit possible you're here about Mr. Winters?"

[Mousen]

Oh bloody hell, he was one of those, was he? She knew the type, they liked to pretend they were dangerous and sketchy and they hung about on roofs at sunset investigating murders and possibly also arranging them for young ladies with questionable fashion sense. Huh. What a poser. Petra decided that she disliked him immediately. If anything, she was supposed to be the one investigating murders on top of roofs at sunset.

"No, it's not why I asked." Petra paused, adjusted her hair band and then added, "And what makes you think that you could? Alan here looks like he's just your everyday brand of dork, but you should see him in a fight."

"I'm actually a bit offended by that." Alan replied, folding his arms.

Petra shot him an affectionate grin and he relaxed a little.

Well, they hadn't been expecting that. This strange, er, stranger was here about Winters too? They exchanged glances and seemed to reach a silent decision.

"Yes. We were hired by Mrs. Winters to investigate the disappearance for her husband. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, but you aren't by any chance investigating the same thing, are you?" This was certainly a new development, Mrs. Winters hadn't said she'd hired another set of private detectives to investigate this. That was assuming he was a private detective, if they weren't, then they were in real trouble. No different than normal, really.


[Apologies. Also Petra is really rude, I think Howell is great. eheh.]

[Indigo]

"Hey, now, that's not a very nice thing to say is it? You should have some faith in me, you know. We may not know each other well but that's no reason for bad manners, now." He flashed his teeth. It wasn't meant to be threatening but he supposed it could be taken that way, if you really wanted. Some people could see anything as a threat. "And it's hard to get far in this kind of business without knowing what your limits are, and I assure you that I know absolutely, even definitively what I am capable of and that could very possibly include killing you if there were a need. But, you know, there really isn't right now."

But hey, maybe she was worth listening to at least a little bit. He'd need her on his side some if she turned out to have useful information later, and she definitely seemed to know what she was doing. So he looked over Alan, and at least he managed to keep himself from frowning pensively, it was just such an affectation and he couldn't stand that kind of thing. If you were going to lie it was stupid to make a show out of it.

Now, Alan. He hadn't paid much attention to the guy at first, on account of he wasn't all that interesting-looking so the woman had at least been right on that score. Still not really that striking. Something there, though. Maybe he was in the files somewhere? He'd have to check once they were done chatting. And really, what could you call this other than chatting?

Howell's tails writhed with delight. "Why, yes! As a matter of fact we are! Isn't it a funny thing. Though I must admit I'm a little hurt Mrs. Winters didn't trust me to handle this by myself. Oh, forgive me, Falcon...didn't trust us. I wonder if you know anything about that?" He wondered if they'd been hired before or after the wife had contacted Howell, and if it really mattered. Why would she even think she needed someone other than him on this case? He'd have to find whoever had given her the recommendation, there was no reason to let bad PR go running about loose just for petty little moral reasons, if he did that kind of thing he'd have gone out of business long ago, and—huh. He noticed an absence.

Oh, dear. It seemed that Falcon had gotten fed up with this nonsense and heaved herself off the roof while he was busy making plans, and there she went toward the other investigators. She landed with a heavy thump and there was a series of rather unsettling movements.

She'd decided to go back to her usual shape. Funny, usually she waited until he asked.

Enormous feathers flew, wings twisted and reshaped themselves into something more dangerous. The transformation started from the head and went down, so she was still in possession of enormous talons and a feathery tail when she scraped her foreclaws across the pavement and snarled at the other investigators. The words were never easy to make out coming from a mouth shaped like hers, but the intent and the general shapes of them got through. "Stay away from our investigation!"

Howell raised his eyebrows, but stayed on the roof. No need to do anything just yet.

[I don't have any idea why this post is so huge and I'm very sorry.]

[Mousen]

Huh. Well, if he insisted. Petra wasn't going to argue the point, if it came down to it Alan could deal with him. She wasn't going to fuss around, besides, the last time she'd tried to use her (slightly limited) knowledge of alchemy properly things had gotten a bit... burnt.

"We don't know anything, Mrs. Winters doesn't need two sets of complete weirdos investigating her husband's disappearance. If she'd said anything we would have told her so. As I imagine you would have done. It's tantamount to hiring private detectives to follow each other, I mean, it's ridiculous." Petra snapped, her tone a little sharper than it needed to be. Howell's smugness was starting to grate. Aside from that, the entire thing was a bit of a mess, they were going to spend the entire time stepping on each other's toes. Petra really didn't have time to swap not-quite-threats with idiot-features on the roof-- actually she did have the time, but that didn't mean she wanted to.

She wheeled around as Falcon landed, obviously surprised. It didn't take her long to recover, though, almost immediately she unzipped her handbag and started rummaging through it. Alan looked less surprised, and turned to face the kirund quite calmly. "I've never been fond of re-animation as a medium, you know. It's too... messy, it has a certain flair, I'll admit. Very Victorian Gothic, etc., etc., but practically speaking it has very little merit. Golems are easier and far more reliable and if you wanted something with sentience, well, Constructs are superior choice." Alan said critically. "Of course that might be personal bias talking."

"And it goes without saying that we will do no such thing."

[Sorry, this is probably really terrible. Either that or it just looks really bad next to your posts ahah;;; ]

[Indigo]

"Well, now, that's just rude." Howell's expression was noticeably less grin than it had been before. You just couldn't let people go around saying that kind of thing. "Falcon here may not be the absolute most living person around but she knows how to do her job and let me tell you I am not what you'd call a fan of insults even when not directed necessarily at me." He hadn't even reanimated her himself or even met the person who did, she'd just kinda been around and while he wasn't under normal circumstances a huge fan of the undead she was most definitely, most assuredly the best of the best of the best with regards to that. No need to explain himself to someone as rude as that though. Manners weren't his paramount concern or anything, but it was certainly something to consider, after all.

Falcon still stood far below, teeth bared, and showed no sign of backing down. Whatever she said next was distorted by her decidedly canine maw but the way she stood prepared to spring made her intent clear, he thought. Though it occurred to him that she might not have quite a usual effect on—on—well. What an interesting thought that was.

"Construct, mm. What an unusual emphasis." The term was something that had come up in his files, once or twice, though it hadn't been actually important to anything he'd done and so he hadn't bothered to do much research because really, who had the time for that kind of thing? He was a busy man, had things to do, disappearances to investigate. Impudent detectives to deal with. That kind of thing. Though perhaps now he shouldn't deal with them as he was planning because he could do some very, extremely good fact-finding if he could follow them. He stared down at them silently, rolling thoughts around in his mind...hmm...

"Well!" He straightened up, grinned. "Calm yourself, Falcon, if you wouldn't mind terribly. Yes, thank you. I can't even begin to imagine what possessed Mrs. Winters to send us both on the same chase, but it seems to me that the two of you aren't completely incompetent. You did manage to find your way here after all. I propose a collaboration. I'm sure we all have plenty to teach each other. And it will hardly do harm."

[...I forget how to Howell.]

[Mousen]

Alan shrugged. As undead went, Falcon was obviously one of the better creations, after all, many undead creatures fell apart more often than they stayed together, but that didn't mean he had to be polite.

Petra had found a small vial of something in her bag. It looked fairly innocuous, save for the fact the warning label took up three quarters of the vial. She gave it a quick shake and the fluid turned a fluorescent orange.

"It's a lot like Librarian, in that sense, I suppose."  Alan replied casually, casting a worried look over to where Petra was stood. He raised his eyebrows at her and she shook her head. Bloody hell, the day Petra had started learning alchemy had been a black day for public safety. She seemed to be more concerned with him, than she was with the vial in her hand.

"Obvious." She mouthed at him silently, and he shrugged.

Wait-- what? "A collaboration?" Petra echoed, surprised. Whatever she had expected Howell to say, it hadn't been that. "Yes, well, it's a novel suggestion certainly. Let me speak it over with my partner, for a moment." She turned to face the construct and he shrugged. "Wonderful! Let's get started, then." Petra gave the vial in her hand another shake and it turned colourless, she slipped it back into her handbag. No harm done.

[Indigo]

A vial with a warning label! Fascinating. He was naturally predisposed to avoid danger of course—how could he possibly have survived this long otherwise?—but while he didn’t know exactly what that thing could do he was pretty sure he could find some way to avoid it or at least survive it. He was, after all, the very best. There was also the possibility of—but no, he couldn’t possibly endanger Falcon in that way, she was after all his only real...well he hesitated to say friend, but certainly something of equal importance.

Ah, but there she went putting the curious contraption away, and all his elaborately constructed escape plans were for naught. Just as well, he supposed.

“Excellent!” he said. He sprung down from the roof, carefully engineered a graceful landing, and stood next to Falcon. She backed up a little, calmed down a little more, but he could tell she was still prepared to attack if anyone made a wrong move. Wonderful. He grinned as widely as he could manage and said, “Such a pleasure to meet you on more equal footing, if you don’t mind my saying so. I’m so glad things are working out, aren’t you? Hmm, but I don’t believe I caught your name. Though I suppose it’s not absolutely required...” Easy enough to just look these people up later, after all. He knew people who knew people, it was practically his trademark.

Ah, and—“I suppose there are more important questions to attend to, are there not? Do you have any leads? Or was this your best guess?”

[Mousen]

Alan raised his eyebrows slightly as Howell jumped down from the roof. His expression seemed to be stuck somewhere between neutrality and annoyance, although in all honesty that could have very little to do with the man stood in front of him at all. Even in the best of circumstances Alan wasn't what you could call a ray of sunshine.

Petra, on the other hand, matched Howell's smile tooth-for-tooth."Likewise, of course. I do hope this collaboration can benefit the both of us. It's not often that we work with other people, that is, outside of each other. Obviously." She adjusted her hairband slightly before continuing. "Petra, Petra Louise Riggs. My dear associate with the long face is Alan. If my memory serves just as well, we didn't catch your name either. Though, I suppose it's not absolutely required..." Petra replied, mirroring his words.

Alan inclined his head politely at the mention of his name, although that seemed to be it for his own introduction. "Names are all very well, but shouldn't we start focusing on something more practical? In these particular set of circumstances wasting time is a luxury we really cannot afford. Not that it really needs saying."

((Sorry for the ridiculously late reply. ;u;;; ))