Morty was a black cat anthro, and his short fur fluffed as he was jolted awake.
He looked around, blinking groggily until he registered the blaring of the terminal and then pawed across the floor until his fingers found the old thing, thumbing the answer key. On the other end, a muddle of voices greeted him. Someone shouting orders, a far-off siren wailing under it all.
“Hope I didn’t wake you,” Val said finally.
“Oh no, not at all. It’s only 3:15 a.m. Why’d I be asleep?” Morty sat up, searching blindly for his boots.
“Shut up. You like this kind of crap.”
“I’m not into scat, Val. That’s your thing.”
Val groaned. “Can you stop calling my husband a piece of shit?”
“Is he paying me back for the book he spilled coffee on?”
Silence for a few seconds.
“Take that as a no,” he said, settling back on the folded blanket on the floor he was using instead of his bed. In the glow of a desk lamp, Morty took in the chaos of his room. The bed was still buried in open volumes flagged with paper tabs, and next to those, there were boxes full to bursting with old cases he was perusing.
“Fucking hell, no! Who leaves a two-hundred-year-old book just lying there?” Val exhaled. “Anyway. Back to the topic. We’re investigating a possible devouring crime. Or… we think.”
Morty froze. “You think?”
“A couple of hours ago. Neighbors heard yelling. An old lady checked and found an arm. It had bite marks where it was severed, just below the shoulder.”
“That’s off. Preds don’t leave pieces behind. Even when they… decide to eat by parts, nothing remains but blood. Unless they want to make a statement. Is it the proper arm, or just bones?"
“We know the basics. I wouldn’t call if it was just bones.” Paper rustled on Val’s end. “Can you get here? Eastern borough, corner of Louise and Walnut.”
Morty gave a low whistle. “Fine. I’ll ping a shuttle. Probably an hour to get there. But why isn’t the local precinct handling it? Not our jurisdiction.”
“They’re tied up with a drug scene. You know, the traditional bloodbath, just… bigger.” Morty sensed some hesitation there. Was she hiding something? “And don’t waste money on a shuttle. Two of our guys are already rolling past you. They’ll pick you up.”
“You called them before me, didn’t you?” A car horn honked outside his window as if on cue.
“Are you seriously going to pretend you wouldn’t come?” Val asked.
Morty snorted. Fair. “Point taken,” he said. “See you soon.”
He pulled on his boots, ran a hand through dark, too-long hair, and put on a shirt and his coat. He had a swimmer’s build on his 5-foot-10 frame, and even though he had a very tired expression, his gaze grew sharp as a scalpel, double-checking if all his field gear was in the inner pockets, then he opened the door and stepped outside, waving to the patrol car.
=================================
Two enforcers were sitting on the front seats of the waiting cruiser. The hood had the big logo of a shield with DAIR’s full name, Division for Aggressive Incident Response, in vibrant red letters.
Morty didn’t know the driver, a smaller agent, not a pred, muscular, but a regular-sized anthro wolf. And Ruld, a very capable rhino, pushing 8 foot 10, no doubt whether he had the V-gene or not. The rhino waved at him from the window.
“Agent Mortimer, glad to work with you again,” he said with a bright grin, stepping outside and opening the door for him. He was massive, yet not the biggest officer they had. His powerlifter's body strained the uniform.
The wolf rolled his eyes at his partner, trying to suppress a knowing smirk, then he started the engine.
Both agents were using field armor. Ruld’s wasn’t parade shiny; it was field-used, edges dulled, webbing neat. Kept both clean and ready. Their uniforms bore the subdued sigils of the Enforcer Corps: charcoal-on-teal, nothing to catch the eye until you’re close.
“Nice to see you, Ruld,” he said, giving a light tap to the rhino's side as he boarded the backseat.
Those cruisers always felt so nice for him, plenty of space. The back seat could hold people much bigger than him. After all, a good chunk of the enforcers were preds themselves. The legal kind. The ones that bought livestock on the markets or... that did the “Licensed Consumption" executions. Behind him, the rear bay had anchor points sunk into the floor, a split bench that could fold flat, and a recessed rack carrying polymer cuffs, wide-seat harnesses, and a strong metal grid barrier to separate it from the cabin.
He nodded at the wolf in the driver’s seat. “Not sure I met you… ” He hadn’t. He was a profiler. He did not forget names.
“Muldoon! Muldoon Murdock. Got transferred from Murialta.”
“Ah, out of the city? You guys have beaches there, why the fuck did you decide to move into our mess?”
“Wife is from here and was just working there on her master's. She wanted to move back near her family, so I put in for a transfer here. At least Endon hands out better vouchers than the ones I got from our local DAIR.”
Ruld and Mortimer fistbumped at the comment. Then the cat put on his safety belt and the car sped off.
“Before I forget… I printed these at the station for you,” said Ruld, with a rustle of papers on the front and a metallic thunk as his helmet fell between his feet. Then shoving a few folders in Morty’s lap. “
Morty thanked him, going through the pages and looking at the pics of the arm in different angles and close up. A big stamp tattoo of a club, showing a blooming rose and the word PAID. The folder said it was from a nightclub called Vermilion. He propped his old terminal on his thigh; the hinge unfolded with a practiced shhk; side keys flipping out from their recesses. No touchscreens here: thumb-rockers for scrolling, a narrow enter bar, and a knurled wheel that zoomed photos in measured steps. The screen glow painted his hands in pale squares. He pulled out a cord and locked it to the data feed from the cruiser, then he input the address where the body part was found and the club. Staring at the distance between the two places on the map.
Outside, the city was washed in sodium vapor and the smear of wet asphalt. Muldoon drove them quietly; tires hissed. Radio traffic murmured in clipped bursts: unit numbers, cross streets, like a dispatcher’s steady metronome.
Ruld angled his seat a touch, not enough to loom, but enough to keep Morty in his peripheral vision. The rhino’s profile was all blunt patience, jaw working on nothing. His gauntlets were off; thick fingers rested near the heater vent.
“Seat warm enough back there?” he asked, casual, eyes forward.
“I’m good,” Morty said, already scrolling. He brought up the case file; grain popped into clarity: a hallway washed in emergency lights, the chalk-line glare of a camera flash, shoe prints ghosted in water, and then the arm: severed point ragged, crescent indentations along the deltoid and biceps where teeth met flesh. He toggled to witness statements, the text narrow and utilitarian. The wheel under his thumb ticked. Click. Click. Click.
“Two minutes,” the driver announced.
Morty’s eyes moved through notes, timestamps, and a map pane showing the Eastern Borough’s grid. He flipped the terminal as his thumbs glided across the keys. Zooming into the corner of Louise and Walnut, he scanned past stacked row houses, a service alley that dead-ends into a fenced utility yard, and a camera marked as INOP/MAINT. He marked it with a quick flag. The hinge of the terminal allowed him to fold the screen partway like a book when the car banks left; the display held its angle, letters steady.
The marks and splatter showed a big fight and way too much blood for a single person.
Still only one arm.
They rolled into slower streets. The neighborhood was awake in patches: bodega light, a laundry's hum, one window strobing with late television. Ahead, blue emergency lights washed brick and glass with nervous color.
Ruld opened his door and stepped out first, his mass carefully placed, boots finding the dry spots without splashing. He circled to the rear, opened Morty’s side, and offered a hand, an invitation without insistence. Up close, the rhino’s scent was clean fabric and a hint of eucalyptus oil.
“Watch the curb lip,” he murmured. Then he stepped back, giving room.
Morty closed the terminal to a palm-sized slab, slid it into his jacket, and took to the curb in one stride. The air was colder, metallic, the kind of cold that seeps through any breach in your clothes and fur, biting your skin.
Plastic tape with phosphorescent light cordoning of the crime scene. And people were trying to grab a peek. Voices on the far side of the line drop as they clock the enforcers arriving. Ruld’s presence did what it always did: part of the night seemed to decide it would behave.
“On you,” the driver said, locking the car with a soft tok. Ruld fell in on Morty’s half-step, not crowding, an easy shadow in armor as they moved toward the spill of light. There were three other cruisers. One had the local tag, but that was just the forensics unit. The other two were from the same precinct he came from. Probably Val’s ride and someone else’s. Muldoon walked there and started chatting with the drivers of those units.
There was a tent in the middle of the sidewalk, protecting the arm from the curious eyes of the tiny gathering of locals. Two women were inside, a human technician and a zebra with a DAIR’s coat. The Technician was packing some crates while the zebra barked orders through a terminal.
The human had a yellow slicker. Red hair appeared around the edges of her cap with a wrestling team brand. “I told you, we got everything,” she said to the zebra pacing around. Under the heavy coat, Val was wearing an above-knee dress and heels, her mane was a short mohawk on top, and as it went down her neck, she had left it grow and braided it.
“So you call me and now want to dismiss the circus as I get here? Rude.” Morty commented.
The zebra turned to him and gave a tired smile. “Not my call. We got our info, or what we could so far. We are moving it to the local precinct, where they are going to run some tests to try to narrow down who might be the victim. Bianca, this is Mortimer, and that one is Ruld. Ruld, Morty, this is Bianca. She’s the pain in my ass.”
“Careful, Val. I thought Ruppert already had tenure in that position.”
Bianca snorted, “I’ll settle for deputy.”
“Focus.” Said Val, rubbing her temple
Morty raised his hands in surrender and winked at the technician, crouching down next to her.
“I won’t make you open the crates to show it to me. I can have a look at the station. What can you tell me that I couldn't see in the picture?”
Bianca was staring at Ruld's big silhouette, and Morty had to repeat himself. She hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Well, you can see the amount of blood here, right? I can’t make a proper test to find out the races of the anthros involved, or the race of the specific person to which the arm belonged. We think some sort of canid, based on fur and joints. But, hey, I saw some big cats”.
Morty stared at her for a long, pregnant second, watching her squirm.
“What?” she finally asked
He raised his hand with the index finger pointing up. Slowly, he flexed it, making the claw pop out and then back in. She slapped her forehead.
“Fuck me! Right, right. Felines have retractable claws. I’m sorry. Please don’t tell that to my overseer. First week.”
“Well, you’ll catch it next time. Anything about the blood?”
“Huh? Ah, yes! Firstly, we thought there should have been two fatal victims. probably the owner of the arm and someone else. Maybe a hard vore case.”
“The problem is that it takes too much time. If you have one of these psychos lurking around, it takes almost an hour to finish a meal, and the report said that a witness heard the yell and came to check fast.
“I was getting there. Can you see a tiny nick at the humerus of the arm, and then a big chomp? So it was cut off and then bitten. Also, we can at least match the blood, and there is a very small amount in the pool that belongs to the victim. The rest belongs to at least 3 other people.
Morty's eyes bulged as he looked around.
It had rained after the photos he saw were taken, but the massive pool of blood around the chalk drawing of the arm was still there. Four people, the arm owner and other three…
“Val, are we dealing with a pack of preds? Or is there a really massive one in the region that I wasn’t aware of?”
The zebra sighed and got closer, looking tired. “We don’t know if this is a rogue pack. But… ever heard about this guy called Varro?”
Morty and the technician winced. An audible click could be heard as Ruld unlocked his gun holster. As if he expected the infamous predator to appear.
“Big moose. That Varro?”
“Yes, he’s in town. That’s what’s keeping the other people in the borough busy. If that wasn’t the case, I’d think about him. But he is north of here, on a territory fight.”
Ruld took a step forward. “Are you mad? Why didn’t you fucking lead with that? That guy’s a fucking monster. You need to put a warning for the civilians to hide. And we need more ammo.” He started to check his gear in a foul mood.
“This could be him,” Morty said, looking around.
“No. Most of the agents are near the old industrial district. It was meant to be a minor operation, but apparently the moose was in town, and things escalated. The borough then had to send most of its operatives.”
Morty stared at her. His pupils contracting to vertical slits with his intent.
“Val… he kills everyone… Who you got there?”
“Agent Mortimer…” She was serious. “We have most of our men there, doing their part. Now, we also have this case to investigate. We came here to do our part. So, please.”
Morty nodded.
“Ok, if people are in combat with that guy and this is not his work… It means that either we got someone else on that scale, or a pack acting together. Fuck!”
“Yes, at least we have their resources to work with, so I’m heading out ahead with Bianca to try to get this guy identified and maybe the other victims if their DNA is in the system.”
“I can go with them, in case they’ve got more questions”, Bianca said, eyes glued to Ruld. She had gotten more interested when the rhino started going over his equipment.
The rhino noticed, rubbing the back of his head and looking away at the crowd outside; his cheeks turning a deep grey as he blushed.
“Focus”, Val snapped.
=================================
As the tech packed the samples and arm to head out, Morty lingered back a step, pulling his terminal from his jacket. He thumbed in a short message.
[Check in. You two still alive?]
He stared at it longer than needed before hitting send. The cursor blinked against the dark glass. The screen dimmed, waiting for a response. Nothing came back.
They are on a case.
No one replies instantly.
I don’t reply instantly. He tried to rationalize his fears.
His tail lashed once, betraying what his face didn’t. He slipped the terminal away, jaw tight. Friends or not, you never wanted silence when Varro was loose.
“You sure about staying?” Val asked as she was about to climb on the cruiser that brought her here.
“Yeah, yeah. The woman who heard the initial commotion and phoned DAIR is still there, so I’ll ask some pointed questions." Then he gestured to the big crowd. "Might be nothing, but worth trying to see if someone else has anything to say. I will be useless at the precinct for now.”
The zebra nodded. She chewed her bottom lip for a second.
“You look shaken.”
“I have good friends in this borough. And they are probably there, fighting this creep.” Morty replied, glancing at his terminal, as if willing it to get a reply.
“I see..”
“Don’t need to worry about me. Leo’s the biggest fucker this region has on the corps. He can handle it. I think,” he said.
They exchanged a few more words, and Morty was left with Ruld and Muldoon.
They started taking statements. Or Morty started interviewing, and the other two were organizing it, making sure people didn’t overcrowd or talk above each other. When the last person had been heard, Morty and Ruld took a stroll around the streets. A few blocks in all directions. They saw some cameras and took notes to request the footage the next day. Then they went back to the location, deserted now, safe for Muldoon leaning against the cruiser and having a cigarette.
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They boarded the vehicle and started to make a slow trip from there to the Vermilion nightclub, where the stamp came from. Trying to spot any possible surveillance. Morty kept tagging on his Terminal as he noticed a few more.
“Anything useful so far?” Muldoon asked, sounding bored.
“Some of the locals kept dropping the same name. This pred that they are suuuuuure is the responsible.”
“What do you think?”
“Maybe. But not alone. Made a quick search on files, he’s clean. Or as clean as you can be when you messed up badly in your teen years. Though it sounded more prejudiced than anything else. I will pay the guy a visit when daylight breaks. If I don't get any leads.”
The nightclub was already closed. But they had all the info of the owner, and Val said she would get a judge's order to go into his house, get the info, and examine the place. At this time, the guy wasn’t picking up his terminal. And Morty couldn’t blame him. He was experimenting with tiredness that makes your body feel light and heavy at the same time, and the world a bit too bright, even at nighttime.
“I didn’t ask, were you guys starting your shift or ending when this call came?”
“Just starting,” Ruld seemed sad
“No overtime,” grumbled Muldoon.
Morty yawned and stretched on the back seat, marking all the cameras and the angles around the club. “Tell you what. You drive around a few blocks so we are sure we know the lay of the land better, and then I buy us some breakfast”, he finally said.
Rhino and wolf celebrated.
=================================
The diner near the precinct had the decency to smell like bacon and muffins when they got in. Ruld stroked his ample midsection with one hand in anticipation. Neon buzzed in the window: OPEN 24. The O had been dead for a few years, so it read PEN 24. Nowadays, people only call it Pen’s.
Morty slid into a booth with his back to the wall, green eyes reflecting the jukebox’s dead chrome. Ruld eased onto the bench next to him, being careful to not hit the metal brace under the table; Muldoon took the seat in front of them, sitting sideways, one knee out.
A waitress with a pencil behind her ear materialized with three mugs. “You look like the kind that won’t say no,” she said, pouring coffee without waiting for an answer.
“Bless you, Mags,” Muldoon murmured after stealing a look at her name tag, already clawing for sugar packets.
Morty set his terminal on the vinyl. There was a port for customers, so he just connected in, the map pane opening to a grayscale grid. He could see Louise Street, Walnut, and the path toward Vermilion. Every camera he’d tagged glowed like moth eyes.
“Order?” Mags asked, pen poised.
“Hashbrows. Been some years, but I remember they were great,” Morty said.
“Pancake stack,” Ruld said. Morty deadpanned and nudged his stomach with an elbow, “Two, stacks.”
Muldoon didn’t look up. “Bacon. Whatever amount makes my doctor sad.”
Mags flicked a smile. “Got a precinct discount for terrible choices.”
When she was gone, they took on the hush of people who had burned the top layer off their hearing with sirens. Outside, a cruiser rolled by slowly, and more cars were starting to fill the street; inside, the smell of bacon got stronger as the grill worked.
With practiced gestures, Mortimer used one hand to tag all the points of interest and sent them to Val so she could procure subpoenas in case the owner of the camera wasn’t forthcoming with those files. He sipped his coffee, staring bleary-eyed at the screen, double-checking if he missed anything. He was exhausted; he’d gone to bed not even 2 hours before he got that call. Today was meant to be an off day.
“Why don’t you change that thing? It looks like an older model. Ancient even. So bulky.” Asked Muldoon. As if to make his point, he splayed his terminal on the table. A bit thinner and shinier. It unfolded wider to allow bigger keys.
Morty shrugged. “It was a pain in the ass to add Kevlar and reinforcement to this one already. So it will take some time before I want to drop that kind of money on another one. Plus, this one works.”
They ate when the plates landed. Ruld emptied half the syrup bottle and proceeded to wolf down the first pile as if he’d been a starving prisoner. He blushed and offered a bite before diving right back at it. Mags drifted back to the top off mugs. “You boys want me to keep the refills coming or you want your hearts to make it to morning?”
“Keep it coming,” Muldoon said.
When she left, Morty tapped the terminal wheel, backing up to the photos of the crime scene. Trying to force himself to find something new. “We’ll walk it at dawn. I want eyes on the shop fronts before they roll up their shutters. I don’t trust night to tell me the same story twice.”
Muldoon crushed a napkin in his fist, then smoothed it back out like a man trying to unfurl a map. “You mentioned locals were buzzing with the name of a jackal. Do you really think it is worth the visit?”
“Probably. I'd rather check his profile at the local station first, so I get an idea of where I’m getting myself into.”
“Mr. Kassur Ferros,” Muldoon says, as if chewing the syllables of the name. “You want backup for that hello?”
“I’ll answer that after I read his file.”
The wolf nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “When I was talking to the other drivers. They said the rest of this region’s enforcers were involved with Varro’s trouble. There! They seemed twitchy, and you two just blanched. That's a tell I should know?”
“Varro’s a storm. Actually, I’m surprised you never heard of him. Has been causing a lot of trouble in the city-states. Keeps moving around.”
“He is Alpha-sized,” Ruld murmured, and for the first time, he looked small.
"Whenever he surfaces, people end up dead. Cartel-adjacent, mostly, but not exclusively." Morty closed the terminal halfway, his eyes going somewhere else for a moment. "Alpha body means alpha eating habits. That's the logic, anyway." He paused. "I looked into it some, on my own time. Never got assigned the case officially, and what I did find never quite added up." He glanced at the half-shut screen. "Hope whoever catches him doesn't give him the chance to explain himself."
Muldoon could see Morty’s other paw grabbing the corner of the table, claws out, digging into the vinyl and down on the wood. Fur on his neck was bristling a bit.
“They are going to be ok. I met those two. I would honestly worry how much Varro is going to get his ass kicked if they find him,” Ruld said, patting the cat’s shoulder.
Morty relaxed. But his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. He hated that Ruld and the new guy could see it.
He wasn’t scared of Varro, not exactly. He was scared of what silence could mean.
Years ago, when he’d been green and too bold for his own good, he’d gone chasing a case he had no business touching. Leo had been the one who pulled him out of the alley alive, roaring at him, angry and worried. Juno patched him up and kept him conscious until the lion rode them to a hospital. Later, Leo didn’t rest until Morty learned how to throw punches, duck, and run when needed. Juno taught him when to do one and the other.
They hadn’t just saved his life — they’d taught him how to survive this job, bridging the gap from academia to the streets.
That kind of debt doesn’t go away.
As they were finishing, Mags reappeared with a small to-go bag.
“For the road,” she said, setting it on the table. “Rolls. I don’t like watching cats and dogs starve, and both of you need to grow big and strong like this one here”. She gestured to Ruld.
“You'd better leave that lady a good tip,” Muldoon mentioned after she left. He sniffed the bag, and there were a few tumps as his tail wagged against the upholstery of the booth.
“Done,” Morty said, tucking bills under the salt.
They stood. Outside, the air had gone from wet to merely damp, the city in that brief hour where even Endon pretends to be tired.
“Walk the block to the station, then crash,” Morty said.
Muldoon yawned so wide his jaw clicked. “Sure. I will pick up the car and park there. Hope they have a gym so I can squeeze in some training until it’s time for the interviews.”
“Make sure to shower after. I don’t want to spend a day in the cruiser with the smell of swamp ass and balls.”
“Why’d we…” he saw that Ruld was blushing so hard his hide almost changed colour. “..., don’t worry.”
=================================
“Did you get a reply?” Ruld asked as they watched the cruiser speed ahead.
“Juno sent the word ‘busy’.” Morty’s frown grew a bit softer. “Understatement of the year.”
“Tell me about it. We came with standard gear. I will see if I can pack some of the bigger toys from the precinct in the car. You know. Just in case.” He winked
“A big man with big toys. I do love how that sounds,” Morty said with a huskier voice, making a grabbing gesture with his hand.
Ruld stumbled. Mouth half open, lost for words. His eyes grew big as dinner plates. He felt like a beast at a crossroads, wondering if he smelled a feast or a trap. “I…” a brief silence followed as he looked down as if trying to pick his next words from the ground.
“Mortimer…”
“Ruld?”
He let out a big laugh and slammed a closed fist against his chest. It sounded like a drum. “Don’t worry, this big guy here will protect you, and this Varro threat will fall under the Central Borough authority,” he started laughing, raising his face, until he was almost looking straight up.
Morty sighed and flashed a tired smile. “Central for the win.”
“Central for the win!” Ruld basically roared, putting more strength into his steps, forcing Morty to almost jog to keep pace.
Steam from the occasional manhole ghosted Ruld’s shins. Endon was in its gray hour. Delivery vans idling, bus brakes made their distinctive hissing noise. They passed a shuttered pawn shop and a pharmacy window already humming to life. Ahead, the precinct loomed in the pale morning haze, a blocky complex of reinforced concrete and tinted glass tucked between aging apartment buildings and a half-renovated warehouse. From the outside, it looked like a boxy afterthought of a building, but it had presence
“Y’know,” Ruld started, looking up at the building’s facade as they neared, “I thought the precinct would be… grimmer.”
Morty grunted. “You’ll change your mind once you hit the holding level.”
The cat had his badge out and ready before the last crosswalk. Because Ruld was on his combat/riot gear, the badge was locked on his chest plate; Morty had been here before, so he was familiar with the layout. Still, the ground floor hit differently from their home base. Where theirs was wide and low, this lobby was tall enough to swallow voices. A well-worn reception area split between two paths: Regular Crimes to the left, and Aggressive Crimes impact to the Right. Impact glass separated a few receptionists from the people they were speaking to. Further ahead there was a heavy gate, reinforced with vertical bolts, guarded access to the elevators that kept the public and non-public areas of the precinct separated latter.
Close to the Regular Crimes Lobby set a food kiosk and rows of chairs, all filled. The situation was bad. Three TV screens were set on different channels. No sound, just subtitles. And then a big glowing missing-persons board. ‘Better check those ones too", Morty thought. On the opposite side, two fully plated enforcers were nodding while interviewing a haunted-looking man.
“They keep Regular and Agressive/Pred crimes on the same floor here?” Ruld asked, sounding more like himself and less forced.
“Yes. Even though you and those enforcers are here to help these citizens, you can see the folks on the waiting chairs squirming as they look at you and those enforcers.” He saw the disappointed expression on the rhino’s face, then added. “I know the good you do. At the end of the day, that’s what matters.”
They marched to the elevators. The lion guarding those raised an eyebrow, and Morty flashed his badge.
“Central borough?” he asked. Morty nodded, and then he chuckled. “That agent Vallerie who came here earlier is a piece of work.”
The three shared a smirk while waiting for one of the elevators to arrive. They make it all the way to the third floor. Cafeteria steam, gym iron, and sweat smell greeted them as soon as the door opened. It was a large corridor. The signs on the wall pointed right to the agents' cafeteria and right to sleeping space, lockers, and the gym.
Ruld took one step to the right. Morty grabbed his gear harness and pulled him to the left. There was a curve, and they could now hear the sounds of people working out and muffled conversation. Muldoon was on a bench in the corridor, playing on his terminal. The wolf had changed into workout clothing. Tank top, shorts. And even though he wasn’t a pred, he was jacked. It wasn’t all plate bulk before.
“Their gym is amazing.”
“And we lost the new guy.” Morty joked.
“Nah. Again, the wife wants to stay near her parents. So I’ll remain on Central. But they have good equipment here. Well… not so many showers.”
“Back home, the gym and lockers are on the first floor, and showers too, so if you come from a mission covered in gore, you can shower there before going into the building properly. Here, there was a space near the parking lot on sublevel 1 for that. Didn’t you see it?”
The wolf shrugged. And then got up and bumped his fist on Ruld’s shoulder.
“Go change. There is spare workout clothing in the lockers. Let's spar a little.”
Morty stared at the wolf. Muldoon was a big non-predator guy, 6 foot 3. Ruld towered over both of them. And yet Muldoon was confident, eager even. Ruld too.
“If you guys are going to throw punches at each other, don’t use stimulants. The crash later is really bad.”
“He is a tough bastard,” laughed Ruld.
“Damn right I am. Going to judo-toss your ass on the floor again. Wanna watch?” he asked Morty.
“I’d. But I’m almost crashing myself. You guys have fun. If something comes up, I’ll be in the dorms.”
With that said, he left both doing banter and marched to the dorms. This is what he didn’t like about the Eastern Precinct. Back home, they had several smaller rooms with a bunk bed each. More so, teams could grab a nap together. Here, it was a single room with rows of bunk beds. He found one empty, cursing mentally the elephant snoring at the other end of the room.
Morty hung his coat on the nook next to the bunk. pulling out his terminal and connecting it to a data socket near the bed. a few quick messages telling Val they arrived, and where she could find him and the guys. Then he grabbed his badge, unfolded the key, and locked it into the terminal. It flashed a little while doing a handshake with the precinct's inner network. He found the contacts for the personnel and made a connection with the archivist. He asked for a copy of what they had on their missing persons and a copy of the file on Kassur Ferros, the guy people wouldn’t shut up about. Then he yawned and climbed under the blankets.
He got up about one hour later to a loud ping on his terminal.
[Going down to grab some snacks. We got a hold on the Vermilion's owner and staff. Heading there in 30.]
[Any leads on the cameras?] He asked.
While waiting for a reply, he saw another message for the archivist. Saying she got the files ready and asking where to drop them. He sent a message that he would pick them up shortly at the archive.
[Some warrants are in motion. Few asked to see forms, and the pharmacy’s owner is friendly. Most of the people said you just need to swing by and that is it.]
He smiled and got up. Another ping.
[Bianca’s upstairs — rapid DNA spinning, said she got something].
[On my way].
The elephant was still snoring in the corner. Lucky.
The black cat got up and snuck out. Gym was almost empty, most people still in action.
Across the floor, Ruld and Muldoon were in each other's orbit, loud and easy with it. Ruld was mid-squat, his white training shirt gone translucent with sweat, clinging to the shape of him.
“Guys, I have to go to 4th floor to see what's up with Bianca.”
“Need help?” Muldoon asked, dropping the dumbbells back to the rack. He had a towel around his neck and used to clear off some sweat.
“Nah. Just get ready. We'll be heading off to Vermilion soon and then getting last night's footage from the cameras we tagged yesterday.”
=================================
Morty took the stairs to Four, ears ticking to the lab compressors’ steady hum. The door was propped with a rubber wedge; Vallerie had changed to a full DAIR get up she probably stole from one of the gym clothing lockers. Bianca had put on a proper lab coat and had her hair in a messy bun.
“Good timing,” Bianca said, tapping a monitor. “Rapid panels are in. So, yeah. The arm is from a male, adolescent-to-young adult. Genetic markers put him roughly 16–20.”
Val slid a print toward him. “Under the claws, there were some skin cells. Perhaps from the predator.”
Bianca grabbed his hand and pulled him to the side of the lab. To the big morgue doors.
The cold exhaled, making a thick white fog as soon as the doors were opened. Stainless doors lined the wall in a grid, each with a recessed handle and a grease-pencil notation that would wipe away with one careless sleeve. Bianca pressed a latch; it popped with a damp little sigh. Metal moaned on rollers as she drew the tray out, the rails clicking softly in their stops.
Inside: white sheet, labeled corner, evidence tags already clipped. Frost-sheen clung to the steel lip and bloomed under the room’s light.
Bianca moved with the unhurried precision of someone who had done this enough times that ritual had replaced thought. Gloves on, checked at the fingers. Mask snug. Pen tucked behind her ear. She folded the sheet back just enough.
The arm lay in a clear forensic sleeve, a barcoded tag hanging from it. Even through the plastic, the fur had that particular stillness — the kind that worked on a stuffed animal but not on a person, not on something that had been warm at some point. The PAID stamp caught the overhead light, Vermilion's rose glimmering in deep red against the tag.
She angled a task lamp in, light pooling clean and flat.
"Here," Bianca murmured, more to the record than to Morty, and pointed. His eyes followed to the exposed humerus, the bite mark visible where the bone had cracked.
The descending airflow kept the room neutral, nothing reaching him but lab chemicals and cleaning agents. Morty leaned in, the lamp catching green in his eyes. Before she touched anything, Bianca set the tray brake with her thumb. A small habit of someone who had learned to be careful.
“Can you see how the little and ring fingers have the claws perfectly manicured and polished? When we move to the middle, index, and thumb, they are broken at the tip. So we decided to dig, and bingo, we got our horse DNA.
Morty nodded once, filing away the information for later. “And you're sure he isn’t one of the pool contributors?”
“Still four,” Bianca said. “I double checked.”
“Which makes this horse a fifth person at the scene,” Morty said.
“The arm owner’s blood is the minority fraction in that pool. The rest is a mess." Bianca said with a resigned sigh. "By the way, guard-hair cross-section and undercoat density fit canis, some large-breed. Think something on a husky/wolf-dog lane. XY, I can’t pinpoint the Z one yet, but he was a large canid. When you go to the club, check the cameras.” She scratched her head and slammed the tray back inside, closing the door to keep the arm preserved.
“And this?” He lifted the papers Val handed him.
“Huh? Ah, sure!” She pointed to a second chart, with color bars overlapping. “The rest of blood in the pool splits three ways. One profile does read as feline; we see it is a female, the Z chromosome needs more time, but I can tell she was from the small feline family.”
Bianca moved her finger to another part of the paper. "The second one reads ungulate. Something hoofed, bovine probably. Without cleaner DNA, I can't go much further than that, but male, and definitely not the same individual as the cells under the claws." She paused. "I'm certain on the bovine. The third is human. Znull, also male. All three are too mixed to pull an age range yet. Could be bystanders, could be assailants." She glanced toward the edge swabs still lined on the tray. "If I can isolate the thicker samples, I might resolve two of them by noon."
“Yes, maybe our Horse met them on the Vermilion, but as you said, it could have been something random, and these people were really unlucky as they left the club.”
“You do like to do your movie sessions, so you can go over their cameras,” Val said, holding a yawn. “Anyway, the owner and staff are awake and very motivated by the word ‘warrant.’ I’ll get myself some food. You swing past Records for the packets you asked for. Ruld and Muldoon meet us at the garage.”
“I can walk you down the archives,” Bianca said hurriedly.
Morty was about to say that it wasn’t needed. But he traced her posture, nervous smile. She wanted to chat, away from Val.
“Sure. Lead away.”
Shedding off her lab coat, she marched out of the room. Morty followed just behind.
They started to walk down the stairs. Bianca was chewing on her lower lip. Eyes darting right and left. Trying desperately to find words.
“You know, there aren’t that many stairs. Sure, we can slow down a bit, but you still need to spit out what you want to ask me.”
She would have bristled if she was a cat. “That obvious?”
“Topic no. But that you want to talk about something, yes.”
Bianca shifted her weight a bit.
“Hey... uh... what’s Ruld’s deal?” A beat, then she filled the air before Morty could answer. “I mean, schedule-wise. He seems… steady. And very tall.” She smiled, quick and embarrassed. “Listen, I’ve been elbows-deep in blood all week, and he looked so calm and ready at the field, like a mountain witha badge. Is he… seeing anyone? Or going to be offended if I invite him out?”
Morty tilted his head. His pupils large, scanning her, and Bianca felt like she was being weighed.
"He’s a nice guy. But he is gay.”
“Oh, that’s bad…”
“I beg your pardon?” Morty's eyes didn’t feel like a scalpel analyzing a specimen. They felt like a dagger poking and starting to scratch.
She stammered and waved her hands dismissively.
"No! God, no." She exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest. "I was interested. Just sad that it’s a lost match for me. Thanks for the save. It spares me the world’s most awkward coffee bribe.” A beat. Morty nodded. “What about the wolf? Muldoon, right? Is he married to those biceps or just proud of them?”
Morty huffed, “Too hard to find someone to warm your bed outside of the precinct that you got to try to get your meat from inside of it?”
She shrugged. “Something like that. I work so much that sometimes it feels good to make sure that there are no cobwebs growing. You know, take the girl for a good tumble.”
“Can’t blame you for that. Muldoon is straight. But he is married. And does not strike me as someone who would jump the fence just to graze on neighboring pastures.”
“Loyalty is important. How about you?”
“Really, inviting me out? As a third option, how flattering.”
“I was just making more conversation now. But hey, fun is fun.”
“Right… I am gay too.”
The technician nodded and then smiled conspiratorially. “You and Ruld ever…”
Morty sighed and deflated. “No. He is interested and showing all the signs. He invited me to a date once and keeps trying to make a move.... For a while. But whenever I reciprocate, he chickens out. Just let it be. I think he is afraid to actually try."
Bianca remained quiet as they climbed down the stairs. “Then don’t chase him. Let him keep his courage in the small things. When he doesn’t chicken out, make it easy to stay. Not obvious, just… leave the door cracked.”
“You do realize you met the guy yesterday, right? I’ve known him for about two years, and he has been doing this weird dance for the last 6 months.”
Bianca raised a palm in surrender, smile crooked. “Fair enough. I got this habit of giving advice no one asked for. Occupational hazard of spending all day telling bones what they meant to do.” They had gotten down to the second floor, and she tapped a door with a sign saying ARCHIVE. “You read people; I read splatter. I’ll stay in my lane.”
“Thanks. It is a weird situation. I will admit. But I agree with your feeling that it’s nice to have a… how did you put it? It would be good to have a good tumble now and again.”
“What is stopping you?”
“I can’t force him to…”
“What is stopping you from looking elsewhere?” She cut him. “You two are not dating. Or even hooking up. And for fuck sake, there are people that I know that are probably being killed tonight. So live your life while you still can!”
Morty stared at her and saw a spark of defiance and some anger in her gaze. She flashed an impish grin.
“I think I like you.”
“Good. Now, I will ring someone to keep my samples running and will tag along with you guys in case you need any forensics in the field.” She turned and darted up the stairs.