The attempt and not the deed confounds us. 

Lady Macbeth, Shakespeare; Act II, Scene 2.

this book is our literal (and literary) child 

enjoy motherfuckers 

"If this is another poisoning, I'll be the next one lying on the pavement." Harper took a drag from her cigarette, leaning back on her heels.

Vague chalk lines marked the area they currently investigated. It was supposed to be on lockdown, but few onlookers gave them the space they needed - far too intrigued by the scene of camera flashes and detectives. Across the yard, her partner was crouched closer to the scene itself, clipboard in hand. He glanced up and spotted Harper, waved with a cheerful smile, then went back to taking notes on the dead body before them.

They had been here for over an hour now. They had received the call after only just getting to the office. Skylar, breakfast's coffee and croissant still in hand, had sprinted out the precinct shouting information to Harper right on his tail. They were finally going to get a lead on their case.

Well, Harper thought, surveying the scene, so much for the leads.

She had been circling the spot and was yet to find anything of use. They ended up staring at the shattered windows of the buildings ahead. Their eyes tracked it from the window to where the dusty glass was littered across the concrete. She tilted her head slightly, interested in how the midday sun reflected its light through the shards.

It was another murder (if the body hadn't given that away). This side of the city was a hotspot of crime lately – not to say that the whole fucking city wasn't one – and the casefiles of killings had been stacking on the detective's desks. All the same patterns of the last matched this one; abandoned lot, early morning kill, evidence of a struggle, zero indication of the culprit, and very likely, if it matched the last, the cause of death was poison. By the looks of it, that would be the case.

Harper took another puff from her cigarette. First Master, she should've gone into journalism.

Sky seemed to be much more successful than she. The red-haired detective was conversing seriously with the coroner, occasionally pointing or gesturing at the dead body splayed on the ground. Eventually, he returned to Harper's side, carefully stepping over black splotches of dried blood pooled in the overgrown lawn.

"Since Zap couldn't come, the coroner helped me figure out a lot of shit," they said, tapping their clipboard. "Nothing crazy, but I think you'll like it. They'll let us know what they find in the autopsy, but for now, we've still got a lot to work with. What about you?"

Harper scoffed as they headed out, waving to the few left clearing up the scene. "The usual. I'll tell you more when we get back."

Skylar noticed, as the two pulled onto the freeway on their motorcycles, that Harper was clenching the gas harder than necessary.

"I'm fucking sick of all this," she muttered through gritted teeth. Once they reached the office, Harper wrenched themself off their bike. "I know it wasn't all sunshine and daisies before them, but First Master!"

Sky snorted. "Tell me more."

"They're all the fucking same! Whoever's behind them is too good. We have no incriminating evidence." Harper resisted the urge to kick her tyre.

Their partner didn't say anything. Harper glanced over, suspicious, and noticed him suppressing an excited smile. "What?" Sky asked innocently, the grin getting the best of him. "I didn't say anything!"

"You know something I don't. You're just waiting for the most dramatic time to reveal it, aren't you?"

"You're no fun," Sky grumbled, though they were still grinning. "Okay, fine. So I talked to the coroner, his name's Scott-"

"Scott, aye?" Harp couldn't help but interrupt, expression immediately lifting with a smirk. "You've mentioned him before, haven't you?"

Skylar suppressed a smile of his own. "That is not the point right now. The point is that he's been to heaps of the recent crime scenes, particularly the ones we've been tracking. He's got a lot of lab results back about the poisons' chemical makeup, hoping to track down the source, right? And, and- get this- they're all connected."

Harper raised her hands. "That's literally what we've been saying for weeks."

"No, I know! But we finally have evidence to prove it— at least, with the poisons!" Sky exclaimed. "We figured they're all homemade, as they don't match any drugs- legal or not- that the chemists know of. It's some very environmentally-conscious concoction of illegal, expensive ingredients."

"Like...?"

Sky flipped through the pages on her clipboard, reading from one. "Scorpion venom, uhh... various snake and jellyfish venoms, some frog or toad poisons, and... dirt, or something? Ignore that last one, actually, I think that was an accident."

Harper made to open the door to the precinct and stopped short, raising an eyebrow at their partner. "They listed contaminants?"

Sky shrugged. "Beats me."

"Shit, this is why we're fucking swimming in crime scenes," Harper grumbled, now yanking the office doors open for Sky. "Focusing on the wrong shit. It's not a good sign if the labs and autopsies are getting contaminated so easily."

The police station was buzzing with activity, as it had been for the past weeks. Officers passed through the lobby, passing along code or reciting orders; towards the back, Sky spotted a few officers shoving criminals down the hall to the prison. The receptionist was frantically rolling between the telephone, fax machine, and whoever was demanding at the desk. The detectives waved apologetically to her as they passed.

When they finally reached their shared office, the pair crashed. Harper collapsed into her rolling chair with a relieved sigh, and Sky threw their bags down, digging through them almost immediately to pull out a small stack of stapled packets. "Okay, Scott gave me a copy of the abridged lab reports for our last cases, #16 through #19, and he'd fax the full autopsy reports once he's back in his office. These are just the basic lists of what they've got so far."

Harper took them from Sky's hand, flipping through the packets. There were a lot of tables and datasets, and they weren't quite sure where to look. First Master, it was only ten in the morning, and they could already feel a migraine coming on. "This is really great, but what exactly does it mean?"

Sky leaned in, an eager glint coming to his eye. "I've got a theory that it's a bunch of people committing the murders. Maybe a street gang, one that specialises in drugs."

"Okay, so that narrows it down to half the city," Harper replied with chagrin. "We all know drug dealing is running rampant right now. The state of the city lately is a testament to that. And you add all the shady shit happening underground at speakeasies?"

"That's the thing," he said. "Didn't we find that all the victims are either involved with the black market, rich folk known for dabbling in shady business, or criminals with a track record of flying under our radar? And on top of this, all the venoms and poisons they found are among the most expensive poisons in the world."

Harper lit a cigarette. "So it's some rich street gang that's pissed at their customers?" She took a long drag. "Trying to take out competition or something?"

"Maybe. Something like that, I'm still thinking about it. But that's my best bet for now." Sky held out a pushpin and a short stack of photographs and papers. "Wanna do the honours?"

The blonde groaned. "You do it, I'm too tired for this shit."

"Suit yourself." Sky pushed away from her desk and walked up to their joint office's west wall. It was a massive cork board, though very little of the original board was left, for it was covered with posters, reports, sticky notes, more photographs, and torn newspaper clippings, all pinned in particular patterns. A red string was tied between nineteen pictures of greyscale smiling faces and crime scenes, each labelled with a different name and number. She tacked on two new polaroids— portrait and scene for #20, Killow Leporid— and extended the string to connect it with the web.

He took several steps back, taking in the collage of evidence, then sighed. "First Master, we're running out of space."

"If people keep getting fucking murdered, we're going to need another wall," Harper grumbled. They had rolled their chair over to the bookshelf, where their coffee-pot was situated. They downed a cup in one shot before grimacing. "Urgh- that was fully cold."

"Okay, I remembered another thing— remember victim number 3, the one that the chief thought was a second-degree murder? Yeah, horseshit. It was first degree. And why, you ask?"

Harper did not ask, but she gestured for Sky to continue. He graciously did so. "Why? Gunshot to the leg. Specifically, the knee. That's not a shot to kill, that's a shot to incapacitate, to take them down. According to our lovely coroner Scott, the victim didn't die from the blood loss, it was the poison. And all the poisons listed in this report, and all the other reports-" He gestured to the many other case files on his desk, "are almost the exact same."

"Wait, slow down," Harper interjected. They got up from their chair and joined Sky before the evidence board, crossing their arms with a frown. "You're saying-"

"— that the deaths by poison are much more complicated than we first thought? Precisely," he exclaimed. "It's brilliant, it's genius, it's fucking insane. Look at the autopsies," he said, pointing to some of the papers tacked to the board. "If you compare all the data in order, from the oldest to most recent cases, you can see the progression of adjustments. Like here—" he pointed to a column on the table and ran his finger down the rows of cases. "— they increased the amount of cobra venom. And on this one, they lowered the amount of jellyfish."

Harper pinched the bridge of their nose as she scanned the tables. "You really weren't joking about the contaminants." Sure enough, one of the columns of ingredients read, Soil.

"They found it, so they listed it, contaminant or not. Anyway— are you seeing it? Whoever it is, they're testing out this poison, and they're taking it out on people they've got grudges against."

"Did somebody say 'takeout'?" a new voice asked.

Harper and Sky looked over. Zap, a forensic detective and their close friend, stood in the doorway holding a pink pastry box in their hands. She grinned, wiggling the box excitedly. "I got everyone in the office doughnuts, but all of these are for us! And I have some theories too, but I wanna hear Sky first."

The three sat at Sky's desk, Harper bringing over her chair and Zap taking to the guest seat. Harper chose a glazed doughnut. "First Master, I'd give anything to hang around the office with pastries instead of walking circles around the twentieth near-identical murder."

Zap snickered. "Yeah, that's because you all are technically my superiors. You get to do the fun stuff. Didn't today's guy get stabbed?" she asked, as if commenting on the weather.

"Stabbed, then poisoned," Sky responded, equally lightly. "Of the twenty poison murders, it's the eleventh where the victim was injured before dying from poisoning."

"Dang, that's rough," Zap whistled. "That's a pretty strong pattern too. A serial killer that ran out of ideas, maybe?"

Harper handed a coffee to the third detective and returned to her seat. "Yeah, but a few of the cases definitely had multiple people involved in the attack. Sky thinks it's a gang or underground drug cartel." She downed another cup of coffee and grimaced for a second time. "Fucking hell, it's still cold."

Zap, with the cup she just received to her lips, lowered it slowly. They turned to consider the intricately organised cork board behind them, noting how it grew significantly by the day. "I mean, it's possible. There's been a lot of suspicious, but not incriminating, activity lately. I can try to trace the poison's contents, backtrack and find the source-"

"Zap!" a gruff voice barked from the hall. "We need your help with evidence out here!"

The forensic investigator sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment, then stood, pushing the doughnut box towards the pair. "I'll be back, probably," she joked. "See you guys around- or, at the next murder, more likely." And with that, Zap was gone.

Harper buried their head in their hands. "Fucking hell, we're just running on speculations. That's all we're doing, aren't we? We have no leads. The coroner's finds are helpful but until Zap tracks it, we're no better off. We're just praying that when— not if, when— someone gets killed next, their murderer fucks up." They laughed bitterly. "Isn't that fucked up?"

Their partner stared at the conspiracy wall, spinning a pen. "There's got to be something," Sky muttered. "We're missing key evidence. Literally anything that could identify the killer would help. They're too good at their work."

"I guess we'll just have to be better at ours," said Harper. She took a long drag of her cigarette. "They can't keep such a precarious gig up forever."

"But surely they would have slipped by now." The red-head grabbed a stack of cases, holding them out. "Look how thin these all are - we've got nothing." He sighed. 

"I know," Harper replied with a grim look.

"First Master this is annoying!" Skylar exclaimed suddenly, slamming the folders back down more forcefully than necessary.

"One breakthrough at a time," his partner resolved in a quiet voice, perhaps more to herself than Skylar.

"One breakthrough at a time," Sky repeated, nodding along.

Harper finished the last of her cigarette, simultaneously reaching for their pack to get another. "Maybe if we're really good, my fist can break-through one of these bastard's skulls soon."

Skylar didn't even falter, more than used to her violent threats. Quite the opposite in fact, they moved to pat them on the shoulder comfortingly. "Maybe... well, we've got Zap now."

"And thank fuck for that, we've needed a forensic detective for so long... you know they can trace blood type now? Science is fucking wild these days."

"God, I don't know what I'd do without her," the redhead said as he went back to re-examine the stack of files (for the hundredth time). "They've helped us with so much evidence, I can see why they're busy all the time."

— 🔍 —

Zap raced through the halls, balancing a stack of folders under her chin as she searched for the next office on her agenda. She had received a call earlier that had added- if not doubled- their workload, and with so many people demanding their aid, Zap felt like they were going to explode.

Finally, they spotted a door with the metal placard: Officer Nya Jiang. She opened the door with her knee and stumbled in, somehow still holding every page. Nya glanced up from their desk and relaxed when she caught sight of the detective.

"Oh, Zap, you're a lifesaver. Seriously, thank you so much." She cleared off a space for Zap to set down the stack of reports, and smiled gratefully at them. "You're the best, really."

The detective laughed awkwardly. "It's nothing, really. Also, the labs wanted me to let you know that a lot of their tests got contaminated, so take the results with a grain of sand– salt!" She rubbed her temples. "First Master, I've been so busy I'm losing my mind."

Nya frowned. "Are they going to run the tests again?"

"I don't think so. The labs are practically swamped with so many new tests adding to the queue, and reruns are pretty low on the priority list— I'm really sorry. But, I did dog-ear the tests that had accurate results, so you might want to check those out!" Zap checked their watch and sighed. " I gotta go, fax me if you need anything, I'll see it... sometime probably. See you around!"

Nya barely got to speak before Zap had darted from the room. She began rifling through the large stack of reports, noticing how several cases were despairingly thin. Picking out the packet of lab tests, the officer noticed that within all the pages, only two tests were dog-eared— uncontaminated.

She sighed, brows furrowing. Only two of thirty tests came back accurate? "First Master, this is fucking impossible to work with. How do you fuck up that badly?" she cursed. With a bit more force than necessary, Nya snatched up the phone and spun the rotary dial, impatiently waiting for the receptionist to fucking pick up-

"Zenjago City Forensic Laboratory, how may I help you?"

"Officer Jiang from the Zenjago Police. I need to speak with Dr. Miller. Urgent, but not an emergency."

The line went quiet with static for a moment, then Zane's friendly, cool voice crackled through the phone. "Officer Jiang? Is everything alright?"

"Evidently not," she muttered under her breath. "Hey, I just spoke to our forensic detective and they said all of your labs were contaminated. What the fuck is going on? We need these tests as accurate as possible or else more people are going to die!"

"I... do not understand-" Zane stuttered, but Nya cut him off once more.

"We needed a thorough toxicology report with the autopsy. I needed uncontaminated lab results so we can trace the sources of the poison and find the killers. But instead your scientists are giving me half-assed contaminated results. This is why we're swamped with crime cases!"

Zane didn't speak for a moment. Once Nya was sufficiently cooled off, he spoke. "The tests are as accurate as possible. We are always careful to ensure the accuracy of each of our tests. We would not have sent tests we knew to be inaccurate, that is nonsensical-"

"Then why the fuck am I getting word twenty-eight of your results are contaminated, making them as useful as moonshine on water?!" Jiang grabbed her near-empty coffee mug, draining the last drops as though they would give her all the clarity and patience this morning–this job–had stolen from her.

Dr. Miller waited for her to finish again. "Is it possible that there is a miscommunication on your end?"

"Miscommunication? Are you saying my team is lying to me?" She hissed, gripping the telephone with so much force it was bound to snap.

He back-pedalled immediately. "Possibly, but-"

"I need to go," Nya snapped. "The Commissioner requested the reports two days ago, they're already late. Goodbye, Doctor Miller-"

"Wait! Officer Jiang!"

Jiang halted momentarily. "What?"

"You and Kai are still available for dinner over this Friday evening, correct?"

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "Be there at seven. I was supposed to be yelling at someone else fifteen minutes ago. Goodbye Miller."

"Farewell, Offi-" 

She slammed the phone down and pushed herself from her chair, cursing as she did so. Someone was going to get an earful from Wu about this and First Master-knows it was going to be her. She kicked her office door shut –with an echoey 'bang!'– behind her before starting down the precinct corridor. She passed office after office, Gordon-Walker and Hong, Julien and Smith, Farrow, catching random sections of conversation she didn't have the time to care for:

"––this design will triple the acceleration and double––"

"––twelve year olds have crushes. I am twenty five and you are not one to talk––"

"––keep it safe until I'm there tomorrow, I can get him––"

Nya almost had to give it to all these goddamn criminals, they had to be working hard as shit to send the precinct into its recent state of disarray. She couldn't shake the feeling this was only the beginning, that their concept of 'disarray' would be very different all too soon.

It wasn't a good feeling. 

— 🔍 —

The clock ticked into late evening. Harper leaned out the balcony for a smoke while Skylar washed the dishes, humming along with a song on the radio.

They'd called it quits early tonight — early meaning only an hour later than the actual time of their shift. One can only sigh in frustration and smoke in stress and scan through the same goddamn papers so many times a day, they're discovering.

Dinner was pleasantly not late for once. It vaguely occurred to them both as they ate, strangely unhurried, that this case was overtaking their existences. Hell, Skylar had even been dreaming of jellyfish poison the night before.

Harper reconsidered their little evidence for perhaps the millionth time that day, cigarette in one hand and her treasured lighter in the other. They rolled the metal rectangle across their knuckles, deep in thought. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered she used to read at this hour, a lover of the classics. Well, Macbeth could wait until later. Until they solved the real world's murders before those in fiction.

It was Sky's night to clean and he relished similarly in the un-rushed time, savouring the familiarity of the movements in spite of their otherwise hectic and dishevelled new routine. Perhaps a month ago, maybe two, this was when he would draw. Harper would probably be reading and they would sketch, sometimes her, sometimes other things in the apartment, or from a case they were working on, or something from the depths of his mind. His fingers suddenly itched to draw.

The phone rang, startling them both from their thoughts. "Can you get it? My hands are kind of... full," Skylar apologised, waving a soapy hand.

Harper flicked the cigarette butt away and stepped inside, picking up the phone with a heavy sigh. "Hello, this is Harper Smith?"

"Oh, thank the First Master, no one is answering their damn lines." Their heart most certainly did not skip at Kai Jiang's familiar voice. "I just got word from Nya that they've intercepted an illegal cartel between Serpentine traders."

"Thank fuck!" Harper shouted, causing Skylar to startle this time. He shot her a look saying, What's going on? She lifted a finger, indicating for him to stay quiet. "Do you need us on site?"

"No, it was just two guys and they're in custody now. Nya says to let you know right away what she saw. It sounded urgent."

Skylar had dried their hands and was leaning over Harper's shoulder, listening in to the sergeant's tinny voice through the phone. "What'd she see?" he asked.

"Death-stalker scorpion venom, cyanide, and jellyfish poison. Does that mean anything to you?"

Rare, expensive, and deadly poisons.

Harper slowly lifted their eyes to meet Skylar's with an equally shocked expression. "Holy shit," they said. "We've got a lead."