Armand listened as the detectives gave their thoughts.
Marty's conclusions summarized most of it. For someone who got a job because of endless persistence and (unbeknownst to the fly guy himself) a bet, he did a pretty good job in connecting the dots. Of course, Armand wasn't going to smile and give Beelz his roses. At least, not in this environment. Especially when you considered his ego. For the sake of everyone at the Easy Runner, an egoless Beelzebub would not experience Miksi jumping over the bar's countertop to pummel him for his audicity. Frogs and flies--truly, they were the worst of enemies.
"It could be assumed that it's connected. Violence, fear, insects. It looks like the perp was rather moody." He said as he stroked his stubble.
Yam's thoughts were a good starting place for a perp. Though, it was always risky to case out a perp before a motive was established. Assumptions could easily poison the well just as easily as they could connect distant threads.
"It's a safe thought. But don't get too hung up on it. Strange things have happened in the city."
When Dezzie brought up the issue of respect, Armand didn't speak up. He wouldn't defend his detectives nor admonish them. They were grownups who could solve their own issues, after all. Though, it was probably more likely that he didn't care if his detectives got into fist fights with either each other or other sections.
He did, however, pipe up when the topic of curses and restrictions.
"A contract can--at most--fulfill what a demon is currently capable of. As far as those go in New Helle, if a human is capable of doing it with a contract, then a demon would be able to do it."
As much as he wanted to say something about sniffing around a room with people turned to viscera and goo, Armand did little more but watch as Kittyan sniffed out a clue. Of course, his comments on the scene were pretty astute.
"Multiple perps always makes it a pain. Though, not really. They usually fall like dominoes, but finding the first perp is something that I don't want to deal with."
His face shifted as Kittyan showed him the baggie. While the chief was usually some mixture of annoyed and exhausted, the more astute detectives--especially Beelz--could feel a shift in the air. Something was definitely afoot.
"I'll take this to the lab myself." He said without elaborating further. Usually, he would say something more about it.
Immediately, he inspected the snub nose with greater fervor. He pushed open the cylinder to empty a round onto his hand. His thumb roughly rubbed against the copper of the bullet. The copper rubbed away as if it were merely paint. A bone white exterior.
"It seems that the Saniwa had some great support." He mused. Again, he didn't elaborate further as he emptied the cylinder and placed the bullets in his jacket pocket. A great deal of care was put into not following evidence procedures. But it didn't quite matter when New Helle's justice system was so malleable beneath the surface.
Still, the chief didn't run off in a panic. There was nothing good that would do, after all. He was still listening to the rest of the detectives.
Armand replied to Barbatos as he brought up the familiar face.
"That's a good place to start, if you like conducting interviews. Harass women, red light district gang."
Lorelei's appearance seemed to brighten Armand's mood--even if it was just by a slight amount. Taking his regular, he quickly began sipping it. His usual was, of course, a peppermint white chocolate mocha. It seemed uncharacteristic of him, but hey, it's what he always had. When asked about it, he would always reply it had enough calories and tasted good.
After taking the manila folder, he thumbed through a few files to at least glance at them.
"Good work," he said rather autonomously. "Rumours and urban legends tend to be more truthful than not."
He didn't add much beyond that.
While all of those conversations were going on, he gave the occasional glance at Al to watch him. Having someone who could perceive something else was, of course, something that Armand couldn't do.
He affirmed the others thoughts. What was new was the final clue.
The room was silent as he unveiled his final piece. Uncomfortably silent, but only for a second before Armand gave out a "hm."
"An eye..." He said as he rubbed his stubble once again.
What insight could the great chief have?
"Never seen it before," he unceremoniously said. "No demons or humans I know have eyes like that."
He rose from his knee and stretched with hands on his back. The other detectives could nearly hear the cracking and creaking of a man who had knelt for too long.
"Well, there's not point in sitting around here. Photos were taken, what little there was of import has been bagged. I'll call preservation to fully secure this place."
He walked began to walk towards the exit before stopping as if remembering something he overlooked.
"Dezzie--you're a ride-along today. Technically, you're a suspect. You're also a survivor, which means whatever did this might want to finish the job. I'm sure you'd prefer sitting around with some real detectives instead of returning to an office that has a rat that sold out your little audit to gang members. Welcome to the team."
Dezzie knew from her handbook that the Section 7 chief's words superceded whatever duties she currently had.
He then addressed the rest of the team.
"Here's some suggestions for you detectives. Check out the Floating District. Ask around in some soaplands and hostess clubs there--there's probably a few florists nearby. Kick down the door of their back offices in their businesses. Talk to their heads and enforcers. I'm sure they're sitting around in fear since news of this place got out. Or you can follow up with the survivor. See what he has to say--though, four years ago was a long time ago. Or just go off and follow your hunch. I'm going to go confirm these since I am now in a rush. If they are what they think I are..."
He didn't finish the thought.
Marty's conclusions summarized most of it. For someone who got a job because of endless persistence and (unbeknownst to the fly guy himself) a bet, he did a pretty good job in connecting the dots. Of course, Armand wasn't going to smile and give Beelz his roses. At least, not in this environment. Especially when you considered his ego. For the sake of everyone at the Easy Runner, an egoless Beelzebub would not experience Miksi jumping over the bar's countertop to pummel him for his audicity. Frogs and flies--truly, they were the worst of enemies.
"It could be assumed that it's connected. Violence, fear, insects. It looks like the perp was rather moody." He said as he stroked his stubble.
Yam's thoughts were a good starting place for a perp. Though, it was always risky to case out a perp before a motive was established. Assumptions could easily poison the well just as easily as they could connect distant threads.
"It's a safe thought. But don't get too hung up on it. Strange things have happened in the city."
When Dezzie brought up the issue of respect, Armand didn't speak up. He wouldn't defend his detectives nor admonish them. They were grownups who could solve their own issues, after all. Though, it was probably more likely that he didn't care if his detectives got into fist fights with either each other or other sections.
He did, however, pipe up when the topic of curses and restrictions.
"A contract can--at most--fulfill what a demon is currently capable of. As far as those go in New Helle, if a human is capable of doing it with a contract, then a demon would be able to do it."
As much as he wanted to say something about sniffing around a room with people turned to viscera and goo, Armand did little more but watch as Kittyan sniffed out a clue. Of course, his comments on the scene were pretty astute.
"Multiple perps always makes it a pain. Though, not really. They usually fall like dominoes, but finding the first perp is something that I don't want to deal with."
His face shifted as Kittyan showed him the baggie. While the chief was usually some mixture of annoyed and exhausted, the more astute detectives--especially Beelz--could feel a shift in the air. Something was definitely afoot.
"I'll take this to the lab myself." He said without elaborating further. Usually, he would say something more about it.
Immediately, he inspected the snub nose with greater fervor. He pushed open the cylinder to empty a round onto his hand. His thumb roughly rubbed against the copper of the bullet. The copper rubbed away as if it were merely paint. A bone white exterior.
"It seems that the Saniwa had some great support." He mused. Again, he didn't elaborate further as he emptied the cylinder and placed the bullets in his jacket pocket. A great deal of care was put into not following evidence procedures. But it didn't quite matter when New Helle's justice system was so malleable beneath the surface.
Still, the chief didn't run off in a panic. There was nothing good that would do, after all. He was still listening to the rest of the detectives.
Armand replied to Barbatos as he brought up the familiar face.
"That's a good place to start, if you like conducting interviews. Harass women, red light district gang."
Lorelei's appearance seemed to brighten Armand's mood--even if it was just by a slight amount. Taking his regular, he quickly began sipping it. His usual was, of course, a peppermint white chocolate mocha. It seemed uncharacteristic of him, but hey, it's what he always had. When asked about it, he would always reply it had enough calories and tasted good.
After taking the manila folder, he thumbed through a few files to at least glance at them.
"Good work," he said rather autonomously. "Rumours and urban legends tend to be more truthful than not."
He didn't add much beyond that.
While all of those conversations were going on, he gave the occasional glance at Al to watch him. Having someone who could perceive something else was, of course, something that Armand couldn't do.
He affirmed the others thoughts. What was new was the final clue.
The room was silent as he unveiled his final piece. Uncomfortably silent, but only for a second before Armand gave out a "hm."
"An eye..." He said as he rubbed his stubble once again.
What insight could the great chief have?
"Never seen it before," he unceremoniously said. "No demons or humans I know have eyes like that."
He rose from his knee and stretched with hands on his back. The other detectives could nearly hear the cracking and creaking of a man who had knelt for too long.
"Well, there's not point in sitting around here. Photos were taken, what little there was of import has been bagged. I'll call preservation to fully secure this place."
He walked began to walk towards the exit before stopping as if remembering something he overlooked.
"Dezzie--you're a ride-along today. Technically, you're a suspect. You're also a survivor, which means whatever did this might want to finish the job. I'm sure you'd prefer sitting around with some real detectives instead of returning to an office that has a rat that sold out your little audit to gang members. Welcome to the team."
Dezzie knew from her handbook that the Section 7 chief's words superceded whatever duties she currently had.
He then addressed the rest of the team.
"Here's some suggestions for you detectives. Check out the Floating District. Ask around in some soaplands and hostess clubs there--there's probably a few florists nearby. Kick down the door of their back offices in their businesses. Talk to their heads and enforcers. I'm sure they're sitting around in fear since news of this place got out. Or you can follow up with the survivor. See what he has to say--though, four years ago was a long time ago. Or just go off and follow your hunch. I'm going to go confirm these since I am now in a rush. If they are what they think I are..."
He didn't finish the thought.