Standard Procedure

The corpse had been scorched and burnt almost beyond recognition. It lay facedown on the charred street, hands raised in an attempt to protect its face. It sent plumes of steam swirling into the blurry grey sky and, consequently, the face staring down at it.
“Blast pattern looks like a cone, sir. Definitely a long-range deal, too,” said Constable Evarin. “The perp knows how to use fire. I didn’t even think it was possible to off someone from so far away with nothing but fire.”
Lieutenant Garamond stood up.
“Looks like the guy’s front is just as badly burned as his back, sir. He wasn’t running at first,” added Constable Syrion “And the perp must have kept the fire going for a while if he burned both sides. I’d say at least ten seconds.”
Lieutenant Garamond painfully blinked the sleep out of his eyes and said, “I think we should consider the possibility that the fire wasn’t even the cause of death.”
There was a quick silence.
“Sorry, sir, what?” asked Constable Evarin.
Lieutenant Garamond sighed, looked around at the ring of police barriers, sniffed in the cold night air, and said, “I don’t know if the burns looks intense enough to kill someone on their own. It would be pretty easy to conceal a few projectiles in the space of the blast, too.”
Sergeant Noril stepped closer to the body. “Why would anyone do that?” he asked.
Garamond looked away from the body and turned to Sergeant Noril. “Noril, there are so many reasons for that I don’t even feel like I should have to tell you.”
Noril smiled tightly. “I knew you weren’t that exhausted. I guess you could use something legal like the fire to conceal something more illicit, if you want to think like that. But if you want my highly professional opinion, that’s too much thought to put into a street murder.”
“Alright, sure. But if this wasn’t a street murder, we’re going to have to take this into consideration,” Garamond replied. “We have to get someone out here to identify the body. Syrion, call someone from yard.”
“You want me to get someone to detect what they used here, sir?” asked Syrion.
“That’d be great too,” said Garamond. “But I don’t think any of our detection mages are going to be happy about getting up this late.”
“They’re just going to have to deal, sir,” said Syrion.
Garamond turned back to Noril and murmured, “I like him.” Noril smiled.
“Sir, I’ve gotten pictures from just about every angle,” said Constable Evarin, putting down the recording scroll he’d been holding. “Do you want me to chalk him?”
“Do it,” said Lieutenant Garamond.
Evarin dug another scroll out of the pocket of his Watch coat and began muttering vague words off of it. Noril sipped his coffee.
“Some day we’re going to have to figure out how to put bigger spells on those scrolls. We can’t keep losing time because our detect mages can’t be bothered,” said Garamond darkly.
“Then they’d be out of a job and they’d start striking. Mage strikes are damn ugly,” said Noril.
There was a small flash of light around the body, and a dull white outline settled around it.
“Clear,” said Evarin. “We can pick him up.”
“Get us a stretcher over here,” barked Sergeant Noril.
A medical crew sprinted over from the sidelines of the police zone. They set a stretcher down next to the body and eased it into their arms, face-up, making sure to support it in case its charred joints snapped. When they placed it on the stretcher, Lieutenant Garamond noticed a vague glint on its chest.
“Stop,” he ordered. They did.
He reached over to the body and touched its chest. A blue symbol vaguely sparked in response.
“Shit,” he groaned. “They marked him. He’s warded.”
Sergeant Noril looked over at the corpse. “Son of a bitch. I guess we know it was planned now.”
“And we’re never going to find out how this happened. If they warded his clothes against psychometrics, we’ve got no lead.”
“We’ve got some ideas. Don’t kill yourself,” said Noril.
“Oh, sure. This could be a Red Mage because they have access to fire spells, and it could be a Salamander because they can breathe the stuff. That’s not much of a lead,” snapped Garamond.
“It could be a drake,” said Noril, looking over Garamond’s shoulder.
“Drakes have been banned for seventy years,” Garamond shot back.
“Plumes of flame like that have been banned for a hundred.”
“Alright, but you can find those on scrolls. Drakes are the size of horses.”
“Yeah, but there’s a drake fang on the ground a few feet back. That’s quite a bit of evidence,” said Noril.
There was a quick silence.
Garamond turned around and picked up the blackened tooth, turning it over and over in his hands.
“Can’t ward something that small, el-tee,” said Noril smugly. “And it doesn’t matter how good your plan is if your smuggled drake’s tooth flies out while it’s spitting.”
“I feel like I should promote you and put you on day watch so you’ll stop stealing my thunder,” murmured Garamond, still eyeing the tooth.
“You’d never get anything done without me.”
Garamond handed the drake fang to Constable Evarin. “Get some psychometrics on this by yesterday. I want to know its whole history up to and including tonight.”
He turned to Noril. “I need a drink,” he said. “And you’re going to buy it for me.”
Noril smiled. “I’m just guessing this is for upstaging you.”
“And being a generally unlikeable bastard, yeah.”
“Firewhiskey, then.”
Lieutenant Garamond laughed bitterly.

I swear to god I have a post coming along. But the game’s starting to get complex, so this will have to tide you over for now.

~ by pieboy on June 23, 2008.