As this is Zlata’s food basket, and I have seen enough of her today, the best plan is one: hide my tabard as it attracts too many eyes. Basket will do nicely. Two: move like I own the place as I enter the main building and head back. Confidence is the key to being stealthy in the city or any urban environment. There might be three or four Watchmen around, but I need to get moving now. I wish I knew what was different about my tabard, but this is not the time to dwell on it.

Good, not a single soul is looking this way. Must all be busy being guardsmen. Only a few more metres before I can slip down the stairs. Is that guy looking my way? Okay, I belong here. Cool, calm, and collected.

“Hey, what’re you doing in here, and where are you going?” For Jara’s sake! Why do you forsake me, Trinity? I guess that did not work. Lower the basket, so this fool can see you are a Watch. Now blather at him.

“Sorry, I was taking this foodstuff to be analysed.” Keep a calm but authoritative demeanour. “I just do not know if anyone has, you know, poisoned it,” I whisper.

Let that sink in. This stuck-up officer’s face has just lost all colour. He whispers back, “Is it from the mess hall?”

“Yes, I was trying to keep a low profile. People are eating there today. Do not want a mass panic. Are you alright? Looking a bit pale there.”

As I look around, no one is paying any attention to us. This guy is on some power trip. He looks at me and, if it is possible, turns even whiter. “Do you think it’s… bad? I—I ate the mess today.”

As I glance at him, I reply in an impressive tone, “You may want to nip down to the pharmacist. Cyric, I think his name is.” Only know this as I have heard his name through the grapevine around the docks. “He should have a pill to sort you out, or the shrine is another option. A blessing from the Trinity could be just the thing.”

With that, he turns and leaves me standing here. Wonder what his problem is? I hope he makes it—like I care! Back to sneaking past the office. No one is looking this way. Yes, made it to the stairs; just a few more steps, and I am out.

“Solo, what are you doing up here?” Stillwater. Damn, but not so bad. “There’s an emergency happening now. All hands on deck, and here are you, getting a gigantic snack, it seems. What have you got to say for yourself?”

Why me? I replied to her with composure, “I was ordered by Gunnar to gather foodstuff from the kitchen for his pets. Can we walk and chat? This was Zlata's lunch, but with everything happening up here, I thought we needed it more.”

A quirk of her lips betrays what she thinks before she resumes her usual stone-faced routine. “Okay, let's go.” That was a quick change of heart.

While we descend the stairs to our lovely, mould-filled office, I ask her, “You don’t really like Zlata, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that. She is the reason I’m with the Rejects!”

“Really? So being down in that musty basement was not your idea?”

She laughs, a strangely feminine laugh for someone of her stature. “You could say that, Solo. Zlata has been the bane of my existence since she was promoted to Sergeant. Just has the Commander wrapped around her little finger.”

“With the way she talked to me earlier, there is no love lost with what happened to the Commander.”

She stops and turns to me with anger shining through her eyes. Please don't punch me. “What? What makes you say that?”

Now I have stepped in it. No need to involve me in internal politics. “Just an off-handed comment when she assigned me to your squad. Just ...that she was looking forward to being the acting commander.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“I don't understand. There are myself and Saul, more senior than Zlata, but still, that woman—” you mean fiend, but continue “—thought and now is acting commander!”

Just let it slide and change the subject. “It is nothing. Commander Axel will recover, and you can talk to him about it.”

“You are right, Solo. Let’s get back to work.”

We walk in silence down the stairs. As we reach the bottom, I can see our workstation in an unnatural blue light. I turn to Stillwater. “Trust me; you are one hundred times better at being a Watchwoman than that black-hearted woman. You care. I can tell by all those cases you work on.” Just blowing smoke up her.

“Thanks, Solo. Maybe while you’re around, you could help us out a bit.”

Wow, that is the first proper smile I think I have received from her.

Need to take the pressure off me, so time to pull the drivel card out again. “One second, I noticed a couple of things while I was filing those reports.” Did not find anything, but there are four murders in two robberies. Might make me look good. “Here. These seem connected. What do you think?”

I have no idea if they are connected, but if I can fake out Zlata and others in my past, Stillwater will be a breeze.

Walk over to Gunnar. “Here you go. Some food for your companions.”

He grunts at me but sees Stillwater looking over the files. “Thanks, half-breed.”

Just smile. “No worries. Scored it off a kitchen member just before they threw it out because of—” My stomach does a flip. “—the guy who turned into a pile of goo.”

WayWocket pipes in, “You are saying there is a goo man upstairs and no samples? What sort of imbecile doesn’t think of me! I might want to see the goo man!”

Wow! “Sorry, WayWocket, I did grab you a sample. There was a fellow Gnome up—”

“What! What Gnome? Coming to make fun of. Not like others. I don’t like machines and grease! Wouldn’t help poor WayWocket; he was special. I can see the magic. Made these.” Points to the lights. “No weird chemicals. See the heart of the solution? Yes. Beautiful. Yes, yes, where is that sample?” I grab it out of the basket, and he takes it with both hands, looking intensely at the goo. “Always the Dawn will rise.”

Stillwater looks up and says, “I can’t see any sort of relationship between these files, except that they occurred together; the murders with the robberies. But the murders are beggars; no one else was hurt. No warehouse guards or anyone else connected to the storage area.”

Claptrap does not leave me now. “I have seen this before. If certain individuals wish to burgle a place, they do a few trial runs.”

“Okay, I can see that, but how does it factor in the murders and the different robberies with the little connection?”

How can I say this without sounding like I have no idea what I am talking about? “Look at the security for each of the buildings. It is pretty high end. A forger engineer would have put a lot of love and attention into the locks.”

“I see where you are going. Test on a similar locking system, then the real deal will be easier. Still, it doesn’t explain the beggars’ murders.”

“Let me ask you a question. How would you find out information on any sort of robbery?”

I can see the wheels turn, which is good. “That is a good point. We talk to people who frequent the area—”

“And more often than not, they would be beggars.”

“You do have a point. Still, people die. It happens.”

“Look at the report on how the murders were done—same type of cut, same angle.” It is true; I have no idea how that stuck in my head today. “The locks are the same. I know you can see it, and I am pointing out the obvious.”

With a weary shake of her head, she looks at me. “Point taken. There is a connection between these cases. But how does this help us?”

“Easy. Follow the type of lock and which other buildings use that lock, and that could be the next target.”

“We can look at it over the next couple of days. I am a little curious how you could connect the dots.” Damn, should stay quiet. Damn it! “That aside, I have our patrols for the next three days. We have the market, then a warehouse, and finally the residential area. Three dull areas; shouldn’t expect anything different.”

She turns away from me, and Gunnar and WayWocket are listening in on our conversation. “Gunnar, what do you think of this idea, and you, WayWocket?”

Gunnar looks deep in thought. WayWocket says, “Patterns within patterns. All swirling around in the primordial essence of the world. Yes, breathe in the majestic thought of this, this person, this Solo.”

Gunnar turns to Stillwater, then chuckles and says, “Could be right. But look at him! He’s a joke, boss.”

Stillwater looks at me and smiles. Hey, I’m not into muscular girls! “He sounds like an idiot.” Hey! “But he has fresh eyes, and he might have skills that could be useful.”

Starting to feel like people think I am a little slow—don’t really care. Money is what I need. Like Sarge always said, ‘Do your best, even if you are incompetent.’ Heard that a little too much during my five-year stint.

“Hey, boss Stillwater, can I be excused for the rest of the day? Have to deal with some personal stuff. What time do you want me back here tomorrow?”

“Boss Stillwater?” she says. I hear Gunnar chuckle in the corner. “It seems that Gunnar is rubbing off on you. Be here by dawn. You are dismissed.”

Taking a chunk of bread and cheese, I wave and say, “See you, fellow Watchmen and boss. See you tomorrow.”