The clock ticked loudly in the office, the only sound save for the occasional flare of the cigar Paulos held to his lips. He worked his jaw and looked through the ledger on his well-furnished desk. Despite the warm browns of the bookcases, many display shelves, and the crimson carpeting throughout, he felt a little chill.

“Looks like we should hit quota this week if those asshole detectives quit sniffing around.” He sighed and tapped the ash from his cigar into a faceted glass tray.

A small grunt from his bodyguard was the only response, and he raised an eyebrow to observe the tall man. Grant has been his right-hand for a couple of years now, and he had never seen the man so quiet and pensive. It had been a rough month for the gang with the new faces in town. Security had been upped, and the warehouse was filled with goons, yet it had still been an exhausting and stressful time.

“Maybe after we get through this shipment, we’ll have a break. Been a while since we had a vacation.”

The guard nodded his agreement.

Most of the cargo wasn’t even worth his time. Paulos lifted a glass of bourbon for a sip, then placed it back down. But orders were orders, so he was good and did as he was told. He sighed once again. Then furrowed his brow and glared at the glass.

The alcohol was moving. Just slightly - side to side. A vibration started up through his chair and the thick wooden table.

“If those jerkoffs in the warehouse are playing about again, I’m going to gut them and-“

Paulos stopped and slowly turned to the doorway opposite his desk. The covered window was vibrating, the glass ringing out in warning. Realization that the noise was coming from the hallway beyond sunk into him. He dropped the cigar and clutched at the desk drawer, struggling to pull it open.

As the noise reached its loudest, the wall burst through, door clattering to the floor alongside planks of wood and plaster. From within the cloud of debris, a singular blue eye burned through the haze as the dark shape large figure silhouetted against the light now loomed forth.

“Knock-knock,” Grugg chuckled, cracking his knuckles.

“Fuck, it’s them - kill him, Grant!” Paulos seethed, shaking as he was still unable to lever open the intended drawer.

Grant leaned over beside him and his face melted away, to instead reveal an old man with a long gray beard and crimson wizard's hat.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Bart said with a dry smile.

“W-what, who are… what are… I have dozens of men downstairs, you won’t-“

“Already taken care of.” From behind the hulking cyclops, a ratman with glowing red eyes came to lean against the broken wall and crossed his arms.

“You bastards! The boss will-“ Paulos was cut off as a silver object darted into the room.

Dragging a thick thread of magical energy, the foot-long needle zipped through the air and circled the mobster quickly, tying him to the chair and pinning his arms to his sides.

The cyclops stepped forward to reveal a tall woman with curly ginger hair, a red glove on one of her hands.

“Naughty Paulos under arrest.” Grugg beamed, stepping over the rubble to assist the shapeshifting wizard in restraining the mobster fully.

Claudia turned to the ratman. “Dare I ask how you dealt with warehouse of goons?”

Gregor shrugged and looked away. “Poison.”

The woman sighed. “I’m not sure that counts as ‘the reasonable use of force’ that Peony keeps mentioning every time she visits us.”

He scowled and looked further away from her. “It was rat poison, if that makes it any better.”

Grugg put a thick finger atop the ledger and slowly drew it toward himself. “Evidence,” he tutted. “Paulos going to jail and then time to talk.”

Bart withdrew some handcuffs and began to restrain the man properly. “We have enough to put you away for a while just based on what you’ve blabbed to me about. You talk way too much. It’s very tiring.”

“What happened to the real Grant?” Paulos had a calm panic about him, resigned to this fate but not enjoying any second of it.

“I killed him,” the wizard said, cold disinterest in his eyes.

The mobster grit his teeth. “He was a good man.”

“No,” Bart said with a sigh. “Good is a very subjective term that hardly sticks to organized crime. Plus, he was skimming a little of the top, at least for a few months.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Bastard.”

“But how did you administer it?” Claudia prodded further, withdrawing her needle now that the man was properly detained.

“I had a few barrels of alcohol delivered. Humans can’t resist the stuff.” His long tail flicked in the air.

The clothesmaker sighed again and relented from further questioning.

Grugg grinned to himself and stood tall. After a month of being in the new town, they had taken to solving crime in no time at all. There had been a lot of it, and under the constantly tested patient guidance of Lady Peony they had started to pick apart any threads that led to criminal activity.

For the most part, he had been happy with the change in scenery. With a higher population, he had felt a bit crowded, but the premises they have been given was a little out of the way and had enough space for them all. His team had also settled into their positions as well and had adjusted almost as thoroughly as he had.

Bart was still struggling to learn more than some basic spells, but after a bit of coercion and awkwardness, he had taken to killing so that he could steal forms for his shapeshifting. He only had around five now, but when they were useful, they stole the show. Grant had been a tough one, and Grugg had to restrain him for the wizard to do the deed.

Gregor was unchanged. As grumpy and combative as always, but always there when they needed him - putting in his all when he had to pull his weight. Especially when it came to cooking or killing. Next to Grugg, the ratman was usually the one to have his ears bent by the Investigator for going slightly beyond the law in getting the job done. There was only so much that could be swept under the rug - a warehouse full of poisoned goons was probably not one of them.

“Industrial accident.” Claudia murmured to herself, now with a pencil and pad in hand. She looked up from the page to see the cyclops looking at her, and she gave him a warm smile.

Perhaps the person most detracted from the wild violence of adventuring, she had become the brains and voice of reason for the group. She understood how society functioned and the logic behind things that the other three of them were too off-the-wall to understand. Bart had been more put together before the whole soul-exchange thing, and while he still had his smarts, he could be just as unhinged as Gregor in the right circumstances. Or the wrong ones.

They had settled into something akin to a comfortable relationship. Nothing close to anything traditional, but neither of them wanted more than close companionship and safety. After years of miserable solitude, it was like a dream come true - even ignoring their time bouncing between hardship.

“All good to go?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. The new suit was a little itchy and sprinting down the hallway had irritated his thick skin. He had also lost his fedora somewhere along the way.

“Got anything hidden in the room, Paulos?” Bart leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “Other than the pistol you keep in this drawer?”

“You knew and locked it?” The mobster worked his jaw and glared at the wizard. “No, nothing else here, you pack of assholes.”

“Grugg gets a little… snappy if people lie to him,” Bart cooed, putting his face slowly closer to the man’s.

“Starts with the arms first, too.” Gregor added from the back, a glimmer in his eye since the reference to a pistol had come up.

Grugg beamed, his eye glowing a luminous blue as he licked his lips.

“I… I told you, there’s nothing.”

The cyclops exhaled and walked back over the debris into the hall, past the two other members of their detective group, and returned holding a large club. The tip of the heavy melee weapon was encased in steel, a bright white gemstone inlaid on one side.

A pulse of light flooded like a wave throughout the office, turning Grugg’s eye white before it faded. Inside the desk, and in the display case to the right, there were items that had a continuing glowing outline to them.

He tutted and shook his wide head. “Paulos’ Boss must have lots of secrets.”

The mobster didn’t reply, but his eyes widened, and he began to sweat.

Grugg stomped over to the display case and narrowed his eye. Breaking the man’s arms wasn’t likely to really solve anything, or be that fun. If he didn’t tell the truth under the threat of violence, then it was obviously the wrong stance to take with him. Usually the ones who could endure some hardship to protect their knowledge needed a different out.

Raising his eyebrow at the wizard, the cyclops rolled his tongue across his lips. “Bart. Think Paulos can get witness protection?”

“It’s possible.” He tilted his head in thought. “Although, that’s only for people who cooperate with us, right?”

Gregor walked over, his arms still crossed. “I say we just kill him now. He has outlived his usefulness if he doesn’t want to help and we found everything out, anyway.”

Grugg smiled and focused on the display case. Between the four of them, there was always someone to play good-cop bad-cop. One time, all four of them joined in, which was very confusing and traumatic for the criminal. Pretty amusing too.

“I don’t know,” Bart hummed, “the Guards here have been lenient before, and we have sway with them.”

Gregor spat on the floor. “Soon the jails will be overflowing with vermin we drag from the pits of this town. We should just end him here and save them the paperwork.”

The cyclops put his hand through the thin wood of the hidden compartment and withdrew a couple of ledgers from within. “Books,” he stuck his tongue out in disgust. Claudia appeared beside him with a sack for the evidence, and he gently slid them both in to be wrapped up.

“You have the key too, ser Bart?” Gregor lashed his tail about. “I’d really like to see what’s inside.”

Bart worked his jaw and paused. “I’m not sure you need another firearm, Gregor.”

The ratman narrowed his red eyes and bared his fangs.

Grugg rolled his eye. They all had their personality flaws, but they could at least argue when they weren’t trying to pry information from a catch. He stepped over to join the conversation and punched straight through the table, splitting it in half and jostling the wizard away from it.

His long arms reached through the gap and lifted the chair that the mobster was still sitting on. “Grugg gets hungry when angry, and angry when solution takes too long.” He opened his large maw wide for effect as he held the detainee up higher.

“Alright, alight, I’ll cooperate if you can guarantee my safety.” Paulos squirmed around in the chair, trying to avoid the fate of being a meal for the cyclops.

“Aww.” Grugg pouted, holding the man by his suit and discarding the chair. He put their faces close and grinned. “Time to go, Paulos.”

“Key, ser Bart.” Gregor hissed in the background.

“Bite me.” The wizard waved him off.

With a sigh, Grugg reached down for the locked drawer amongst the debris of the desk and held it up. A short squeeze and it popped open, dropping loose papers and a flintlock pistol to the floor.

He rolled his eye as the ratman scrabbled for it, turning to smile at the clothesmaker.

Another successful raid completed. He couldn’t wait to see what was next on their investigation board.