Gate parked his car at the sidewalk and stepped out. He didn’t even bother to lock it. Someone would steal it again either way. Gate used to be a robot, but he was much more now. His giant purple eye took most of his face, but he saw a many things others would miss. He fixed his blue coat, straightened his gray pants and positioned his formal hat the way it was meant to be worn. With a slight decline in the front, covering his singular eye.

When someone was a private investigator in Rogue City for long enough, they learned that image was as important as results.

He walked into the entry hall of the house. The space was incredible. Had they wanted to, they could make comfortable living quarters for at least a dozen people from this room alone, but nobody would expect that. If you lived in Rogue City for long enough, you learned that compassion is very low on the short list of qualities some people may possess.

A small imp was seated behind a desk and scampered off at the sight of the detective.

The angry woman came at her valet's notice of his arrival. Her surely expansive white fur coat was dragged behind her as she stomped in her heels. Her red hair and make-up reflecting the wrath she carried within. Her generous curves imprinting themselves into the dreams of man.

"You are finally here!" she exclaimed loudly, her clothes swaying with her aggressive movements.

"As you requested ma'am. Now, what do you need me for?" the detective asked, grabbing his lighter instinctively. It always calmed him down.

"Imp! The pictures."

The little red hell-spawn ran somewhere at its master's behest, returning with a file. As Gate opened it, he grumbled in surprise. The very first picture was of a bullet casing, it was a simple 9mm caliber with no discernable additional markings, but the second picture was…well…it was a shot puppy. A fluffy, red, definitely dead puppy. Gate switched his gaze at his client.

"You want me to investigate this? A dead pupper?" the detective remarked. He almost said it was bellow his paygrade, but…well…it wasn’t.

"Christi was the sunshine of my life detective." the woman started. "The little angel, never hurt a soul. She had a soft and happy bark. And she was murdered in cold blood, by Fell-tech!" the woman half-shouted. Many actors would be envious by her heart-wrenching performance no doubt. But Gate was not an actor.

"Why would Fell-tech kill your dog?"

"Because she was like my daughter! They know I have a big promotion incoming and my competitors need to put me off my game, but they will see. I will show these assholes what it…"

"Please, calm down." said Gate, as he shifted through the rest of the papers. "Not a lot to go on from this."

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The woman looked him up and down, then she showed a sly smile.

"I heard you were…good." she put a hand on his chest. Most would be moved by this, but if you lived in Rogue City for long enough, you learned that sex is among the cheapest forms of payment.

"I am." he said as he took a step back. "But that doesn’t mean I can produce miracles. I need more than this."

She looked him up and down again, this time more thoroughly.

"Nobody but Fell-tech executives of some level have entry to this parlor, it must have been one of them. I can give you a list?"

"Good start." Gate pulled out a notepad with a pen and started writing. The woman scoffed at the paper, but Gate paid it no mind. He liked to do things in the old style.

"Where were you when the…incident happened?"

"Out of this district, I had some business meetings I had to attend. One of my valets was supposed to take care of her for the time being."

"I presume hi is?" he motioned cutting his neck with a finger.

"Missing." she said with a smile that confirmed his suspicions.

"Did he at least say something that might help with the case? Anyone he might have saw, etc." the detective slowly exhaled, in a futile attempt to release his frustrations.

The woman stopped with her confident demeanor, surely realizing that silencing the only witness might have been a stupid decision. Gate was used to these things. If you lived in Rogue City long enough, you realized that the higher class were incompetent babies, acting only based on their impulses. They had too many subjects to clean up their mess, they would never learn. But he couldn’t really complain, since it was the biggest source of his income.

"He said something about a man with a tech-up in his face and a beard, but I know of at least four executives with that description. "

"That narrows it down somewhat. Show me the scene of the…show me where it happened."

The woman led him to her expensive suite. The décor was dull, the couches were white, the walls were white, everything was white. Except a little red spot on the otherwise clean white carpet. No doubt where the pup ate a bullet.

The woman excused herself, saying that this sight hurt her eyes, but she seemed less distraught than she wanted to.

The room looked clean and unshaken, no strong quarrel was taking place here.

Then he noticed it, a little thin blood trail, leading under the carpet. He moved it to the side, revealing glyphs and runes beneath. As his big eye scanned the symbols for their meaning, suddenly Gate lost his mind. As if falling to a coma.

When he came to, he was holding his bloodied clients body, his hand of metal and wire sticking out of her opened chest. He didn’t know what happened, but he well remembered what his body did. It killed her brutally. Played with her bones and muscle while she was still alive, how it silenced her throat, so she would not make a sound. How it ended her suffering by breaking her heart. He was scared, he heard of malware attacking the senses of robots, but he was sentient…or was he? Would he be able to realize if there was still some program within him. Something that under the right circumstances, would lead him to kill again. Thoughts to think over later, but now he had a carcass in his hands. Others might have been nervous, clueless as to what to do. But when you lived your whole life in Rogue City, you learned how to hide a body.