[How do we end up in so many violent situations?]

Grugg had no answer for this nor time to give it any thought, as he leaped backwards to avoid the chair swung by the ogre. Almost tripping over his heavy new boots as he slid along the counter, the chair striking just in front of him against the thick wooden surface, shattering pieces of the chair everywhere.

The Detective fished his hand from where it had crept into his sack, emerging now embellished with one of the iron knuckle dusters. His fist reared back in position to strike, but the ogre launched at him in an attempt to grapple before the swing could come out.

“Hold ‘im still, Baff,” the rear one, now most likely Mub, shouted as he brought his own chair to bear.

Despite both ogres being densely packed with muscle, Grugg himself was no easy figure to move, and Baff scrabbled at him, unable to gain any leeway. With the looming second assailant on his way, the cyclops kicked out at the shin, causing the inept wrestler to yelp in pain and hop back.

[Try and move so they are in the way of each other.]

With Baff’s movement unsettled, Grugg pushed him to angle the ogre into the oncoming path of their twin. The reward was a frustrated grunt as the second chair found no space to be swung. When his nearest assailant moved to the side to clear space, the Detective moved with him, the distance too far for Mub to swing and too close for Baff to swing. After a couple of heavy-footed dance steps in tandem, Grugg didn’t move against the next sidestep away, instead launching his fist through the perfectly spaced gap.

Baff was lucky not to get a face-bound delivery of solid metal, only barely twisting to avoid it, the punch instead catching his collarbone with a dull snapping sound. Grunting, the ogre grabbed onto the extended arm of Grugg and pulled him in. The boots again caused him some imbalance; the Detective had no say in lurching towards his attack -who then sidestepped—leaving a gap for the downward swinging chair. A flash of pain ran through his skull as the arcing furniture made impact, this too shattering across the floor.

It seemed as though the twins were a bit more experienced in fighting, and now there were four of them! Grugg shook his head to clear his vision and immediately felt rough hands encircle his throat. Sparks flew through his vision, and he grabbed out at the head of whichever ogre now had him in his grasp. As the taller mountainfolk, he could outreach the ogre and find his quarry, and stuck both thumbs in the eyes of Mub (or Baff). He would be more likely to get the ogre to relent rather than overpower his choking grip. And it began working; the hands were weakening…

And then, just as quickly, his own grip was being wrestled away as the second ogre slowly pulled his hands off the twin. The hands around his throat tightened again, and he felt his strength weaken, dropping to his knees.

[Fight it, Grugg. Grab the rune!]

He tried reaching for the sack, but he couldn’t find the opening. Sluggishly, his arms hung to his side in resignation and from the power draining from his body.

The hollow Voice rang around the tavern, and through blurred vision, Grugg could see the eyes of the ogres widen in confusion… but they did not relent. Too headstrong, too experienced. He couldn’t fault them on their dedication to whatever job they had been sent to do. A warm feeling flowed through his body, and he felt tired. With hazy vision, he watched the second ogre pick up one of the broken chair legs, now split into a jagged, crooked spike. The looming attacker held it up in the air like a javelin, pointed towards the cyclops.

So this is the end, huh? Grugg closed his eye and braced for the fatal impact. Even the wizard's voice, though shouting, sounded so far off and muted now.

He waited a few eternal seconds, but the end of Grugg didn’t arrive in pierced agony. So instead, he fought the urge to sleep and opened his eye. The makeshift spear was still held aloft in ready anticipation to strike, but something was stopping it, some resistance. The Detective tried to focus but struggled as his lungs burned for air; there was something wrapped around the arm of the ogre…

[Gregor!]

Unexpectedly, the grip of Mub/Baff loosened as the ogre grunted in pain, allowing Grugg to take a precious mouthful of air. A dagger stood protruding from the forearm of the strangler. It wasn’t much, but the surge of strength from the oxygen powering his lungs and the arrival of the ratman to power his spirit was enough to find the opening to his sack.

Both ogres dropped what they were holding to grasp at their eyes as the small tavern filled with bright white light. Grugg dropped to the floor, gasping for air, as he fought against the edge of passing out. Then, as quick as he could physically risk it, he swung at the recovering ogre; the hand outfitted with solid iron catching him in the knee with a horrible crack. The ogre thug dropped to the floor, unable to hold his weight, and Grugg lept on top of him, pinning his arms down with his weight advantage.

“Here, you’ll need these,” Gregor called out, as something metal slid across the tavern floor, stopping next to the Detective. Manacles, in extra large. He turned to see that the ratman had managed to trip the other ogre by ensnaring his legs during the Light effect, the ogre knocking himself out on a table as he fell to the floor. The heavy restraints clamped into place on both criminals with a satisfying click, and Grugg hauled the conscious one up to a sitting position against the bar.

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[Gods on high, that was not looking good. I was panicked there. Are you okay, Grugg?]

“Grugg okay, just headache. Is Gregor okay?” he called out to his assistant whilst rubbing his temples. He never realized how much he loved air.

“Never better,” he hissed, clutching at the now bright red bandages on his chest. He sat on a chair to roll his whip back up as he caught up with his labored breathing.

“Here, will help assistant.” The Detective got up and staggered over to the ratman, still light-headed. Then, putting his hand on Gregor’s shoulder, he smiled and concentrated. “Bart, channel healing through Grugg.”

[Oh, I mean, I will try. I am not sure, but…]

The ratman looked up at the cyclops with tired eyes but allowed him some patience.

“Sorry for getting Gregor involved,” Grugg apologized to his assistant. “Was trying to get some food.” A warm feeling flooded his body, gradually extending out to his fingertips. “How did Gregor know Hat was in trouble?”

“It is my job to find out things, ser Grugg. And I wouldn’t eat from this place.” Leaning to the side to see around the hulking cyclops, he glared at Jacob, who was plastered to the corner of the room and looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

A few moments of silence passed as the Detective stared, squinting at his hand on the ratman’s shoulder. Then, the warmth he felt faded, and the disappointed voice of the wizard filled his head.

[Sorry Grugg, I don’t think I have the power to do that yet.]

The cyclops let go of Gregor’s shoulder and squatted down beside him. “Gregor is very resistant to Hat's power. Does Gregor have curse?” he grinned and wiggled his eyebrow in mock inquiry.

“I’m beginning to think I do, ser Detective,” the dry reply came through gritted fangs. “Perhaps you could use your skills better on our captives?”

[Yes, let’s get some proper investigative work done.]

Grugg stood up straight and dusted his hands off on his comfortable shirt in an effort to appear professional. Good thing he hadn’t worn his suit, he thought, casting a glance over to where he had dropped it on the counter once the assault began. If that had been ruined… then he might have had to kill these gentlemen. He adjusted his badge and strode over to the sitting ogre.

“Mab, Baff, both are under arrest, for assault, breaking property of Mister Jacob, and making Gregor hurt himself by getting out of bed. How does both plead?”

[That’s not quite how this-]

The reply from the ogre was a very colorful insult in Giant.

“That not physically possible.” Grugg shook his head, considering what the ogre had suggested he do. “Being offensive to a Detective probably a law, too, right?”

[Possibly, I guess I am not too well versed on the specifics of this jurisdiction and-]

“I think if he doesn’t want to use it properly, we should cut his tongue out,” Gregor hopped down from the chair and crept over, drawing a dagger from his boot with the end of his tail. With his hands, he withdrew his notepad and pencil.

[Just once, it would be nice to solve something without threats.]

“Well, Bart is smart one. What would Bart do?” Then, on noticing the confused glare of the restrained ogre, he shrugged. “Just talking to hat.”

[Okay then, let me think. There are three possible groups that we know of that could have sent the ogres. First, the Nightshade, secondly, the Investigators - we still need to find out their name, and third, but most importantly, Harold.]

“Harold?” Grugg asked, surprised. Even the ogre acted surprised at the mention of this name. Grugg turned slowly, focusing his electric blue eye on the captive, boring down into the thug's attempt to subtly look away as he loomed over him. “Harold.” The ogre whimpered and looked away again.

[That was quick. I was hoping a bit more deductive reasoning would be involved; I could explain my choices, the facts and clues that we were presented and so on.]

Gregor scribbled in his notepad. “Ser Harold, owner of the illegal fighting ring, for which ser Detective here decided to poke his nose in ‘undercover’”

[Which Gregor gave us the information on, he keeps getting us into trouble!]

The cyclops patted the wizard’s hat, which served no purpose other than to make himself feel better, since Bart couldn’t feel it. “Gregor good at sniffing out crime”. The ratman’s nose twitched at this but chose to ignore the half-conversation.

[Not that I am casting aspersions on our good assistant…]

“Yeah, that sounds like tough spell. Oh- Gregor, have some good news. We have new investi-gative team member now!”

“Is it the human clothesmaker you keep hanging out with, ser Grugg?”

“See, Gregor knows everything. All having first meeting tomorrow to go over case files." Nodding matter-of-factly, he felt like a good team leader. He was the leader, right? Sure, Bart had the intelligence, Gregor was good at knowing things, and Claudia made really nice suits- oh and had a flying needle-dagger, but he was still in charge. No, no, he was getting ahead of himself. They weren’t a team, and they didn’t need a leader. They were Udok, and they were all equal.

“A good plan,” the ratman nodded, with less sarcasm than usual. “So if you are done with me for now, I’d like to rest and stop bleeding for a bit.” He snapped his notebook shut and pocketed it.

[He must be too injured to come with us to the warehouse.]

Grugg considered goading Gregor into joining the investigation, but he could see how pained and irritable his assistant was. Well, more irritable than usual. “Dismissed, Deputy”. With a tip of the brim, he nodded the ratman off.

There was a brief pause, where he seemed to mouth the word ‘Deputy’, before Gregor strode off with a slight limp, his tail swishing behind him.

Suddenly, the tavern door swung open, this time with less squealing as it was getting used to the abrupt abrasion on its hinges. Several Town Guards stormed into the room.

“Stop! As commanded by-, oh, Detective Grugg? A civilian notified us of a commotion here.”

The cyclops recognized the man as one of the Guards from Alpha Team - Patson, maybe. The man had a long scar down the side of his face, the healing they received having done a stellar job, it seemed. He sheepishly pointed down at the two restrained ogres.

“Erm, Grugg found some crime. Now what?”