"We are wasting time, Lieutenant Duma." my assigned partner complains petulantly, "We already know who committed the murder."

I ignore the rookie's whining and continue to inspect the crater that had been blasted into the pavement just outside a nearby commercial building with my pocket flashlight. My fingers stir up the loose rubble speculatively. Blasted is not quite the right word to use. The crater had been sandpapered into the ground. I scoop up a handful of the shattered concrete and asphalt, letting it flow through the gaps of my fingers like fine sand.

"The epicenter of the impact should be here." I muse, picking myself up and dusting my slacks off.

"Lieutenant Duma!" the rookie shouts, interrupting my thoughts, "When are we going to take action?"

"Who are you again?" I turn around and ask tiredly. The rookie sputters for a moment before managing to reply.

"We met at the Garden earlier Lieutenant, when you were late for the meeting." the rookie says bitingly, "And I am the highest scorer the Academy has ever had. I -"

I cut the silly woman off with a wave of my hand, "I don't keep track of Academy gossip, Specialist. I graduated more than two decades ago. I am asking for your name. Not what you did at the Academy. Not when we met. Your name."

An angry glare from the rookie before she responds, "Kristina Holt, Lieutenant."

"Alright, Holt." I reply, "To answer your question, I was in the middle of taking action right this minute, before you interrupted me."

Holt folds her arms across her chest and looks at me unhappily, disbelief all over her face. Rookies these days are so poorly educated.

"What is the main purpose of the Yellow Roses?" I ask.

"To be the light that shines in the darkness." Holt recites from rote, "And mercy cannot hide where the light shines."

"Precisely, Ms Holt. Precisely." I sigh, "We are first and foremost investigators. We seek out the traitors, dissidents and parasites that infect our perfect society. Yes, there are times when the Yellow Roses have to drag away suspects to the dungeon. But it is always after an investigation is complete. And when we know all the answers to the relevant questions. Clear?"

"I have read the investigation report." Holt shoots back defensively.

"You read the Militia's investigation report." I point out, "And that's good enough for you?"

"The facts are obvious." Holt insists, "We should go pick up Don Kuat immediately before he runs."

"Alright." I nod, "Then you should have no problems reconstructing the crime scene then, right?"

"What?" the rookie blanks out for a moment at my challenge.

"Reconstruct the crime scene." I insist, "Fill in all the blanks so that when Kuat claims innocence when you arrest him, you can throw it right back at his face."

"I, uh ..." Holt's voice trails off as she blindly glances around the crime scene. Of course the rookie's stuck. The Militia's report merely traces Kuat's movements up to the time he left Club Loveless. It doesn't say anything about the murder of the citizen. Kuat was probably here at the material time, that much is true. But that by itself doesn't prove anything.

I lead Holt to a spot several meters from the crater, across the spiderweb of blackened scars that par the ground. We stop at a spot marked by a large patch of melted concrete that tapers into a narrow burned out skid mark. A thin cut had been made horizontally across the patch.

"I'll give you a hint Specialist." I say, "This is where the fight between the suspect and the citizen began. Now continue the story."

Holt stares at the patch of melted concrete but stays silent. A few minutes pass like this until I lose my patience.

.....

"Be well." Sheryl says as she bumps fists with Don, "I need a favor from you. Jasvinder is trying to purge me from his body."

"Yeah. I was suspecting something like that." Don grunts, "Let's get to the clinic. Dress this up like a suicide. Maybe even Jas ODing on morphine or some shit that's in character for a hedonist junkie like him."

Then a curtain of darkness falls, blanketing the surroundings, cutting off Don and Sheryl from the world.

...

"Look." I point at the melted patch of concrete, "That's the sign of a bulwark's thrusters blasting off as it enters hover mode without preparation. The pilot goes from zero to take off power immediately. The back blast of the jets is allowed to spill all over the ground."

Holt nods, "Then the gash must from be the attacker's weapon. This was a botched ambush."

...

"Sheryl, move!" Don shouts as he pushes his partner to the edge of the sphere of darkness. As Sheryl rolls across the ground like a rag doll, Don fires up his bulwark's jets and performs a hard swerve, barely managing to avoid the incoming sword. The assassin's blade bites deep into the melted concrete, slicing through the slurry like a knife through butter. As Don zigzags across the ground, drawing a long skid mark across the concrete, his bulwark spawns a pair of automatic pistols from the ether. The guns fall into Don's waiting hands, begging to be used.

The assassin briefly turns to look at Sheryl, and Don takes the opportunity to fire a snap shot. The unknown pilot whips around and deflects the bullet with a leisurely, almost bored motion.

"Trooper type bulwark." Don observes, "No way you could have blocked that shot with your back turned using your hardware alone."

The assassin settles into a hover and levels his sword at Don, recognizing the real threat.

"Substituted your bulwark's block percentages did you?" Don quizzes, "You're an Operative. Like us."

....

"A shot was fired." Holt muses, getting into the rhythm of the investigation, "Which was then deflected. From the spent round, the Militia concluded that it came from a T-25 Skirmisher. The exact bulwark model Kuat has been assigned."

I shake my head, "That evidence only proves Kuat was present. It does not show Kuat actually killing the citizen."

"There's more." Holt continues, "From the number of casings the Milita recovered from the scene, Kuat must have kept firing."

....

"We are nothing like you." the assassin says, rushing towards Kuat with his sword at the ready. The jet plumes of his bulwark extending outwards like a pair of angel's wings. Don focuses, and calls on the power within his blood.

"Substitute: Accuracy. Set at 255%."

"Substitute: Damage Type. Set to Unstoppable."

"Engage Perk: Autoaim. Replace basic fire control."

An unending volley of shouts are vomited from Don's guns. The assassin swings his sword about to deflect the incoming bullets, but -

...

"The Militia couldn't find any other spent rounds at the scene." Holt concludes, "Kuat must have had time to clean up the place. That one spent bullet must have been left behind on a fluke."

"No." I tell the rookie, "The simplest reason is usually the most correct one. There are plenty of spent casings lying about. But no environmental damage or actual spent bullets. What does that tell you?"

"Impossible!" Holt protests, "A T-25 can't perform at that level."

"But the facts bear it out." I conclude, "Kuat never missed a single shot, after that first probing attack."

....

Sparks fly as the assassin's bulwark shudders under the repeated bullet impacts. The assassin swings his sword with lightning speed, but the bullets slip through his guard and tear gaping holes into the bulwark's armor. The chunky machine's jets blast ferociously, sending at flying backwards in a frantic attempt to retreat, breaking off the assassin's attack.

"You're right." Don gloats, "You're nothing like a real Operative. You're much worse. Keeping substituting your bulwark's structural integrity though. It won't help if you can't match my percentage increases."

"Operators." the assassin groans as more bullets pepper his machine, "Prepare to sync with me. I'm going to perform a phasic shift."

"What operators?" Don asks bewildered, but not bewildered enough to stop firing, "You praying now? Won't help you against me."

Then a loud noise tears through the stagnant air, as if several people were shouting together in unison.

"We can do it. Together! PHASIC SHIFT!"

In a flash, the assassin's body collapses into a cloud of barely corporeal smoke, and begins darting venomously towards Don Kuat.

...

I pick up the thread while walking back to the crater, "Something happened midway through the fight. Kuat was forced to retreat. He used his bulwark's thrusters to perform a dash just over the ground, that's what caused all the burn marks originating from the melted concrete patch."

Holt merely nods attentively not saying anything, her attention wholly on the investigation now.

"From the scar marks on the ground and the Militia's photos of the scene when it was first discovered," I continue, "Kuat would have employed a dodge and fire pattern. He did this until the citizen backed off."

"How do you know that?" Holt exclaims in surprise.

"Devil's in the details." I smirk, "Check the photos in the investigation papers. Piles of spent casings are piled up at set intervals, not spread evenly about."

....

The assassin reels backwards once again as he is blasted full of holes after latest unsuccessful attack run. Dematerializing allowed the assassin to get close to Kuat, but the assassin needed to revert to a more solid state in order to do damage. And when that happened, Kuat's auto aiming guns would be waiting.

Dropping to one knee, the assassin gasps for breath as blood drips from all the rips in the bulwark. The end is near. He can't keep up with the damage Kuat is dishing out.

"Sucks doesn't it." Kuat sneers, "Not being as OP as you're probably used to. Anyway, its time for you to die."

The assassin wastes no words on Kuat and immediately blasts off into the sky as the sphere of darkness begins to clear up. Kuat does not hesitate and orders his bulwark to take flight as well, chasing after the prey. But the assassin abruptly stops in midair and levels his sword at Kuat one final time. The sphere of darkness begins to fold inwards, wrapping around the sword and releasing a sinister nimbus.

"There's nowhere for you to run." the assassin pronounces, "Accept your end!"

An inky black splotch emits from the assassin's sword, forming savage tendrils which reach out towards Kuat. Kuat dodges skillfully through the sky, but the tendrils have a mind of their own, tracking him no matter what maneuvers he pulls.

"Operators, synchro rate is dropping." the assassin mutters, "Stay on target for just a little longer."

Kuat snorts derisively as he flips over a lashing tendril, "You think this cheap trick can do me in? Let me show you what a real Operator can do."

"Substitute: Agility. Set at EX."

"Engage trump card: Bullet Reflexes."

Kuat flashes forward, sweeping around the flailing tendrils. As he flies past the assassin, Kuat gives a piece of unsolicited advise.

"See the thing about being OP? What no one tells you is this. OP is a matter of comparison."

Kuat drifts behind his opponent and plummets downwards, aiming both feet at the assassin's head.

"There's always a bigger fish."

...

"There was an exchange somewhere in the sky." I say while pointing upwards, "And Kuat hit the citizen with a single overpowering blow. That caused the citizen to crash land and the bulwark's energy core to rupture."

"Which is why the crater has that odd texture." Holt murmurs, "The escaping waves of divine energy ground the surface to dust. It was not just impact from a fall."

"And there you have it." I smile in a satisfied manner to myself, "There a few loose ends, but I am confident that was how the fight between the citizen and Kuat went down."

"So now are we going to arrest Kuat?" Holt asks eagerly.

I just laugh at her naivety.

"Of course not."