#rp posting

At the front of the briefing room stood an older woman, dressed much the same as present Wysteria is now. She pointed to a blackboard, marked with three numbers. "There are three primary rules to being a detective in New Capenna. This isn't a job you can put a smidgen of effort into, and if you refuse to be cautious about how you operate, you will end up dead." In the recollection, she gazed about the space. Several coworkers who would later turn up dead or simply missing... which is synonymous with dead in Capenna. A recollected whack regained her attention. "The first rule. If you get asked to step off a case, or you notice it's Family business, you leave. No questions asked."

Returning to the present space, she got off the bus she had boarded to the street where the next murder would take place. She kept herself calm, approaching the alley as she thought upon her recollection of older days. The first rule wasn't something she heeded often. Perhaps it would've lead to a more fruitful career in the Obscura, but it felt like a scam, and she was there to bring about justice. Plus, if she had heeded it, she wouldn't have met... No point in thinking on that. She heard the telltale splatter that marked her cue to enter the scene. As she did, her mind flashes back to the briefing room again.

The human points to the second number. "Second rule's especially big for your operations. If you've got a suspect before you, get them on the back foot. Don't pussy-foot around with getting them comfortable or letting them find their rhythm. That'll get you killed here." She remembers it well. Some of her colleagues found dead in a bar or what have you, by the work of Maestro assassins, or Brokers repomen, or what have you. It's the one rule she kept to the most often.

She strided down the alleyway, looking upon the vampire performing his 'art'. He noticed her and recoiled in shock. "Hey, walk away or you're going to be next, lady." He snarled at her, but she simply took survey of the scene before responding. "Your work is... amateurish." Her response was measured, and it left the vampire in shock. "What d'ya mean by that? Wait, how would you know anything about that?" The bewilderment was where she thrived, of course. "I mean, the blood splatter patterns here barely resemble wings. And this patterning here isn't something used by the Angels, this is recognizably from someone of the Caldaia." As she rattled off more points, she reached into her trench coat without the vampire noticing, too taken aback by her thorough criticisms.

"Hey, wait a second. You aren't here to just provide art tips!" The vampire pointed at the cephalid's weapon of choice as she loaded in two halo slugs. She shook her head solemnly. "You're right. I'm here to put an end to your flimsy efforts." He backed away in shock, dagger still drawn, even as he knew a knife in a gun fight was a poor choice. "Y-you can't do that! I'm a Maestro, see? I'm pretty well known, too! They'll see my dead body and come for your head!"

"The third rule..." The instructor grimaced. "Isn't necessarily a rule for detective work, but something to keep in mind. A slogan, if you would, to etch into your minds so deeply that not even a Brokers contract could make you forget. It's..." The memory was cut off, but Wysteria knew it well.

She cocked the gun, then looked at him. "They won't even bother looking for your body. Angels, if I even get an inquiry to your location, I could answer truthfully and I doubt Errant and Parnesse would even care. After all..."

With a shot ringing out, and a body to clean up, the third rule came to mind for Wysteria.