"Personally," Winston said, lying back in his hospital bed. "I thought I'd done pretty well until I found out about all the internal bleeding."

Muzazi sighed at his bedside, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Officer Grace had collapsed shortly after returning to Landfall-01. Apparently, one of his broken ribs had caused bleeding, and he hadn't realized -- as he'd forgotten to turn his sense of pain back on. If there hadn't been anyone else around when he'd finally collapsed, he very well could have died.

He'd been taken here -- to Landfall-01's primary medical facility, which wasn't saying much. Most of the rooms were filled with spacers who'd suffered from industrial accidents or the effects of air contamination, but even so they were so short-staffed that medical automatics were handling the bulk of the workload. The sterile white room was infested with the sickly-sweet stink of Panacea, like rotting sugar.

Marie was standing on the other side of the bed, her own expression much less sympathetic. "Katashi Oliphant-Hidaka?" she asked curtly. "That's definitely the name the guy told you?"

"Yeah," Winston pouted. "And after I specifically asked him not to."

She sucked in air through her teeth. "Oliphant Clan, huh? This is going to be a pain."

Muzazi couldn't help but agree. The Oliphant family controlled the lion's share of organized crime within the Supremacy, so dealing with them usually became very complicated very quickly. Oliphant-Hidaka wasn't a branch he was familiar with, and it was surprising that they had a presence on such a small planet, but he still didn't relish the prospect of dealing with them.

"It bodes ill if the Oliphant Clan have allied themselves with Darkstar," Muzazi said grimly, folding his arms. "I know it seems cowardly, but perhaps we should contact the Commission and request backup before attempting to capture Katashi? There's no telling what pieces the combined forces of Darkstar and the Oliphant Clan could have in play."

"What?" Marie scoffed. "You think the Abyssal Knight might be waiting behind the door?"

Muzazi felt his face flush at the mockery, but he kept his composure all the same. "We should proceed as if that is a possibility, yes."

Both of them turned to look at Winston as the young man grunted in pain -- he'd moved to flip his pillow over and apparently aggravated his injuries. He waved a hand to reject help that wasn't being offered.

"The Oliphant Clan isn't working with Darkstar," he said dismissively, still wincing. "If they were, that idiot wouldn't have dared to tell me the name of one of their operatives. Even if I hadn't killed him, they would have -- and the way they'd have done it would have been a hundred times worse. I imagine that guy -- and his buddies -- used to work for this Oliphant-Hidaka, so that was the first name that popped into his head."

"And if you're wrong?" Muzazi raised an eyebrow.

Winston smiled. "I've never been wrong once in my life. Don't get me wrong -- it's still a good idea to question this guy, find out who poached his goons -- but we don't need to worry about Darkstar kicking our faces in." He shifted in his bed. "We can go check him out as soon as they fix me up with Panacea."

Marie stepped away, with just the slightest smirk on her face.

Winston furrowed his brow. "What?"

"About that," she put a hand on her hip. "Panacea's really better for replacing than repairing, so they're probably gonna put you on a regimen of stimulants and regen-gel, which is gonna take a couple of days. Lemme be honest: we're not waiting a couple of days."

Muzazi nodded apologetically as he went to join her. "We'll return once we've questioned the man. At that point, we'll share the information we've learned, and you can come to a conclusion. That's the most efficient way of handling the situation."

Winston did his best to sit up in the bed, but the twinges of pain sent him back down just as quick.

"But that's not fair," he whined. "What if you miss a clue or something? Come on, you guys!"

Marie shrugged, but the smirk didn't disappear from her face. "Life's not fair, I guess," she sighed. "Get some sleep, okay? Me and Atoy will figure this thing out for you."

As the two of them left the hospital room, ignoring the protests ringing out from the bed, Muzazi couldn't help but feel that his ears would enjoy the rest as well.

----------------------------------------

Muzazi tapped his foot against the cold metal floor, doing his best to stay steady in his seat even as the bulky vehicle shook and rumbled. The automatic truck floated a few meters over the ground, but everytime it struck an exceptionally thick pile of snow the occupants felt it.

He checked his script, a holographic representation of the automatic truck blinking along a segmented blue line. Judging just from a general look, they were about an hour into the two-hour trip.

A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned backwards, the back of his head cold against the metal wall.

Landfall-01 was a small settlement, but even so it apparently had two or three other communities that relied on it. The main settlement was an official outpost of the Supremacy, whereas these small outlying communities weren't strictly legal: they'd sprung up as people were left behind by transport ships or lost the jobs that had brought them to Landfall-01 in the first place.

When they'd arrived, Regan had mentioned what little crime Nocturnus had consisted of a small smuggling operation -- Muzazi had no doubt the place they were going to, Heap, was the source of it.

And it was where they'd find Katashi Oliphant-Hidaka.

Across from Muzazi, on the opposite bench, Marie was cracking her knuckles. Right now, that was the only sound in this small, enclosed space. Muzazi cleared his throat to fill that void.

"It was good of Governor Regan to lend us this transport," he said. "It'll greatly increase the speed of our journey -- and lessen the hazard, as well. Using bikes would have made the cold quite a risk."

Marie raised an eyebrow. "Tense?"

"How so?"

"You don't usually talk this much."

Muzazi frowned. "I speak a reasonable amount, I should think."

"Yes," Marie admitted. "But not usually about nothing. Usually you say things that are useful, or hold some sort of significance, but you just started telling me how useful this truck is apropos of nothing. Hence, you're tense."

"Hence…" Muzazi found himself smirking. "You're beginning to sound like Officer Grace yourself."

"Don't be a dick," Marie laughed. She leaned back on the bench, crossing her legs as she stared up at the corner of the room -- this vehicle had no windows to occupy the eyes. "You are tense, though."

Muzazi mirrored his partner, sighing as he leaned back and crossed his arms. He had to admit she was right. There was no logical reason for him to feel so unsettled -- he'd experienced nothing but victories since coming here -- but this planet simply did not agree with him.

"It's the dark, I should think," he muttered, looking down at the floor. "And the cold, and the isolation. It feels as if we're in a place that does not exist. I'm… unused to such conditions."

"What?" Marie cocked her head. "So you're scared of the dark?"

Slowly, Muzazi shook his head. "No -- well, perhaps. But I'm not sure if that's the way to describe it. Usually, a fear of the dark is because you dread what might be within it. Am I right in saying that?"

Marie nodded.

Muzazi's arm loosened, and without quite realizing he found himself looking down at his hands. "What I fear is that the dark might be empty. That what we can see is all there is, and there's no point searching for anything else." He found that his hands were shaking, and he didn't quite understand why.

His partner blinked -- this conversation had clearly taken a different route than she'd anticipated.

"Well," she laughed uncomfortably, placing a hand on her chest. "I can tell you right now that your fear is irrational. If what we saw was all there was, there'd be no such thing as secrets, right?" A slight smile played across her lips. "If that was the case, there'd be no room for ol' Marie Hazzard, either."

He glanced up. "Really?" he asked, genuinely curious. "What kind of secrets do you have?"

Marie winked, grinning mischievously as the truck plowed through more snow.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."

----------------------------------------

Marie had expected their search for Katashi Oliphant-Hidaka to take up most of the day -- to take up more than one day, maybe. As an Oliphant, this man was a major figure in the underworld, after all -- and one didn't survive long in the underworld without knowing how to cover their back. She'd expected to have to follow endless whispers, to threaten fragments of gossip out of people, to chase shadows down alleys.

She hadn't expected him to be here. She hadn't expected him to look like this.

The man silently drinking in the corner of the bar looked sad. Black hair had turned grey long before it's time, and the constant tremor of his thin hands suggested a stress his body was not sufficient to contain. From what little information she'd managed to scrape together, Katashi was meant to be in his late thirties, but he looked for all the world like a man twice his age.

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It was as if he'd started wasting away before even dying.

As the two of them approached cautiously, Katashi looked up at them -- bleary eyes squinting from above what had probably once been a mighty handlebar moustache, now two grey tufts of hair. The strong drink in his hand stopped right before reaching his mouth.

"What?" he mumbled. "What do you want?"

This bar, Oasis, was right on the outskirts of the Heap settlement, worthy of a visit only by the most desperate for inebriation. It was no surprise. The place was by no means inviting: harsh silver metal had been bolted together to form the bar, and the clashing aesthetics of the rest of the furniture suggested they'd been rescued from more than a few landfills. It was no wonder that the only occupants, apart from the surly-looking bartender, were the man they were looking for and a stray drunk on a stool.

"Katashi Oliphant-Hidaka?" Atoy asked sternly, looking down at the man.

Even faced with such a pitiful sight, his hand didn't leave the sheath of his sword. Marie had to admit that was the right decision -- she, more than anyone, knew that appearances could be deceiving. This sad little man could very well still have cards up his sleeve… but she really didn't think so.

"Yeah," the man replied, taking a greedy gulp of his drink. "What about it? You here to kill me? Give it your best shot, bastard. I'll fucking end ya -- little, little fuck."

Atoy looked back at Marie, a silent despair already in his eyes. The man was barely coherent -- he had the bravado that only the truly wasted possessed. They wouldn't be getting anything out of him.

Unless…

A new organ formed within Marie's body, designed to produce a stimulant compound -- and from there, a thin organic tube pumped those stimulants into the cactus-like needle, barely perceptible, that had sprung from her palm.

"Mr. Oliphant-Hidaka," she said calmly, pushing past Atoy and placing a reassuring hand on Katashi's shoulder. "We really need to speak to you."

The needle injected the stimulant before both it and the organ degraded into nothing and were reabsorbed into Marie's body. That should sober you up nicely. She couldn't quite suppress the smirk on her face as she watched clarity return to Katashi's eyes.

His body language became just the tiniest bit more guarded. "What do you want?" he muttered, pulling his drink close -- as if they were there to steal it.

Atoy circled the table until he was standing behind Katashi, his shadow falling over the thin-looking man. It didn't seem to have the menacing effect he desired: no matter how degraded, a gangster was a gangster, and Katashi simply took another sip of his drink.

"We had an encounter with several of your employees earlier today," Atoy finally said. "A Pugnant named Rolo, and two others. Don't pretend you don't know them."

"Rolo?" Katashi snorted. "You finally caught that idiot?"

"He's dead."

"Good riddance," Katashi downed his glass without missing a beat. "Fucker thought he could disrespect me like that. Isn't right. People only judge -- they only judge other people by what happens to them, you know? Never by what they do. Fucking bullshit. He'll rot in hell."

Impressive. The man's self-pity was disgracing him more than the alcohol ever could -- and that was something Marie couldn't cure.

"Disrespect you? In what way did he disrespect you, sir?" Marie asked, leaning forward. Sir. She'd appeal to what was left of the man's ego.

He glared up at her, eyes narrow, clearly trying to work out what her game was -- and the suspicion slackened as he decided he didn't much care what her game was. He held up a hand to the bartender for another drink.

"It's bullshit," he repeated to himself as the bartender went into the back. "You provide for these people -- you provide them opportunities -- and one, one little bump in the road and they decide they never knew you." He suddenly thumped his fist against the table, the metallic clang ringing out discordantly. "The looks on your faces… you think the same, huh? Washup? Has-been? Couldn't even take care of his own?"

Yeah.

"No," Marie said reassuringly. "We just wanna find out what's going on. These guys who betrayed you -- do you know who they might have gone to work for instead?"

Katashi opened his mouth as if about to launch into another rant, but sadness seemed to overwhelm anger for a moment and the fire in his belly died away.

"Someone else?" he muttered to himself, turning his empty glass over in his hand. "Nah… no… they wouldn't have done that, right…? Not where I can see… they wouldn't have stuck around here…"

Marie desperately grabbed hold of the tiny bit of useful information the sad sack might have just given out. "They wouldn't have stuck around here? You thought they were leaving, then?"

The next drink arrived -- and Katashi grabbed it as if afraid they'd stop him, both hands curled around the glass as he nursed his sorrows. He was like a man in a blizzard, huddled around a fire. "They said…" he mumbled. "They said there was nothing here… bullshit, people only…" His body began to seize, and for a moment Marie thought he was up to something, but all this man was capable of was silent sobbing.

Something awful had happened to this person.

Marie sighed as she stepped back, exchanging a look with Atoy. It really was impressive -- Marie had sobered this man up not two minutes ago, and he was already almost back to where he'd started. So long as alcohol was at hand, they'd never get anywhere.

"Get up," Atoy grunted, pulling the man to his feet. "We're taking you in for questioning."

Katashi offered a token attempt at resistance, but fell limp soon enough when faced with Atoy Muzazi's superior strength. Marie even saw a few strands of weakly green Aether peel off of Katashi's arms, but in his inebriated state it wasn't able to do much except look pretty.

"Times were," he muttered, dejected. "I could have you dead with a phone call. I could have you dead. Fuck…"

Regan had provided them with the keys to a residence here at Heap -- they'd use it as a temporary base while they were investigating Katashi.

Marie crooked a finger as she strolled out of the bar, and Atoy pushed old Katashi after her. The man grumbled and stumbled, but eventually followed them out into the eternal night.

The surly bartender watched them go, a bemused expression on his face, before turning to his one remaining customer.

"Another drink, Mr. Mazma?" he asked.

----------------------------------------

If Atoy Muzazi had to say anything for this Heap settlement, the architecture was a little less conformist than Landfall-01. Rather than the orderly, prefabricated buildings that composed the main settlement, places like Heap had been formed based on necessity, ground broken where housing was immediately needed. As such, it was a ramshackle collection of shacks and huts -- each one a different shape and size.

When faced with such variety, it made the cuboid residence they'd been given by the Governor seem almost unique. If Landfall-01 had to have a presence here, Muzazi supposed, this was probably the best way to advertise it.

He scanned his script over the door panel, unlocking it, and as the three of them stepped inside -- two willing, one less so -- they were met with the welcome warmth of the building's heating. A chair had already been left out for them, so Muzazi pulled it up and threw Katashi in it, earning himself a groan of protest.

The clock in the room steadily ticked as Katashi glared up at his captors.

"What do you people want?" the man grumbled, regaining some of his lucidity now that he'd been removed from the bar. "I'm a citizen of the Supremacy, I've got rights."

Marie rolled her eyes, throwing herself onto a dusty couch and spreading her arms wide along the back.

"Oh, save it," she sighed. "I'm sure if we cared to look you up, we'd find enough of a criminal record to justify hundreds of interrogations. You're an Oliphant, after all."

Katashi looked down. "Was an Oliphant. I -- I fucked up. I -- my branch -- used to be in charge of smuggling, you know? Lost a massive shipment. One mistake and they send you somewhere like here. Some shithole. Got a name and nothing else."

Muzazi narrowed his eyes, circling the seated man like a shark. His footsteps were timed with the tick-tock of the clock, lending his movements an oddly choreographed quality.

"You're very candid," he said, looking down at him. "I wouldn't expect a criminal to give away his secrets so easily."

The man looked up at him, his eyes empty. "Kid, look at me," he said, lifting a thin hand -- in the dim light, it almost looked like they were talking to a skeleton. "All I've got left to do is talk and drink and die. Once I'm done talking, I can get back to drinking. That good enough for you assholes?"

Muzazi stopped his circling. To be honest, he couldn't really argue with that.

"The man who worked for you -- Rolo," he said. "We believe he recently came into the employ of an organisation called Darkstar."

"Actually," Marie raised a finger. "It's more likely that he came into the employ of someone who wants to be in Darkstar. No offense, but my guy didn't exactly seem the ambitious type."

Katashi put a hand to his head, his post-liquor headache already making an appearance, slouching in the chair. "I dunno anything about the specifics," he muttered. "Most of my guys just trickled away after the family head relocated… relocated us here. I bet most of them are working for Jacques, now, that son of a bitch."

"Hey, hey," Marie snapped her fingers, pulling their guest out of his obviously familiar resentment. "Back on topic, family man. You don't know about any of the specifics -- but? Is there a but there?"

The criminal shot Marie a nasty glare -- she wasn't being the most welcoming host -- before continuing with a sigh: "Well, I dunno. This is kind of a surprise. The last time I spoke to Rolo, he gave the impression he was going --"

Click.

The subtle, jarring noise rang out from the underside of the chair Katashi was sitting on, cutting him off. He himself looked down between his legs, his brow furrowing. Marie sat up on the couch. Muzazi's grip tightened on his hilt.

Not one of them consciously knew what that sound had been, but their bodies -- honed by crisis -- knew what it represented: danger. It took another second for them to realize what form that danger had taken. The ticking they had been hearing was not from a clock.

"Bomb!" Muzazi roared.

He pulled Katashi out of the chair and kicked it across the room in one smooth motion -- but he already knew he was too late. If he'd heard that click, that meant the detonation was already imminent. Any steps to avoid it now -- in the final instinct -- would be fruitless.

In the final moment before the explosion went off, engulfing the house, Atoy Muzazi truly believed that he was hallucinating. There could be no other explanation for what he was seeing. The delirium of chaos was clouding his vision.

As his world became a blur of movement, the result of a final lunge towards the door, Muzazi could have sworn he saw Marie launch off the couch and push himself and Katashi out of the door -- with colossal, clawed hands that dwarfed the rest of her body. Absurdity. Truly, an absurdity.

Regardless of whether he'd seen the action clearly, the results went unchanged. Muzazi and Katashi -- and something else -- went flying out of the front door, not one of them untouched by the fire that burst freely from the explosive.

It licked at Muzazi's right arm, igniting it for a split second before he fell into the snow, smothering the flame before it could get started. Katashi's head and body were scorched, the man screaming as he thrashed on the ground, clutching his burnt face. And the third thing…

The third thing…

The top half of Marie Hazzard's body was limp, arms splayed around it in the snow. Her eyes had rolled up into her head, revealing red veins, and her tongue lolled vacantly out of her mouth. The snow around her was quickly turning red.

Atoy Muzazi's eyes feared what they would see -- but they still looked down.

There was nothing below Marie Hazzard's torso, just the charred and terminated trails of what had once been organs. A strange, strangled noise trickled from Muzazi's throat, and he put a hand to his mouth to stifle it. Even with that half-measure, however, he couldn't deny what he was seeing.

He couldn't deny that he was looking at a corpse.

His hand didn't hold his voice back for long. Atoy Muzazi's scream was swallowed by the dark.