Information is Money

## **Information is Money: a Howe and Wood Story**

As the sun slowly peeked over the Osaka skyline, two early rising vampires slowly got ready for their working day. One got dressed and ready in the manner of any office worker in 22nd century Japan, the other one got dressed in a manner that suggested her work would get quite messy. The former was known in official paper work as Emilia Wood, and had been known by that name for a great many years. The latter's official paperwork listed her name as Phoebe Howe, and usually addressed by law enforcement as either 'Detective' or 'Sergeant' Howe. Together, the two made up the head of the relatively small and well repudiated Wood & Howe Private investigation group, with most of the staff being being retired police officers that were largely unfit for work--and a couple of androids to do more menial tasks. Given the contents of the investigations that came in, it was fully known by the staff that the ones writing their paychecks weren't totally human, and preferred to answer any awkward questions about their supervisors with a simple shrug. After all, the pay was decent enough to simply look the other way...especially when it came to Phoebe's work. And given the lack of presence near the lower levels staff dubbed 'The Palace of Pain' on this day, they figured she was going to have an *exceptionally* busy day.

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Indeed, the woman known as Phoebe was having a busy day in one of her many 'extraction' cells, as she euphemistically called them. To those under her piercing stare and toolset, it was more akin to a living hell, their only company being her and the screams they produced. That, and the classical music constantly being piped through the speakers. The man now in the tender care of her ministrations was no exception, his loud screaming rising over the calm and lilting tunes Strauss the younger. Catching his breath briefly, the man gasped out "Kill me and be done with it, you psychotic bitch..." his voice straining with effort and hoarse with pain, "I'm not going to tell a filthy *gaijin* like you anything," With the woman letting out a quiet sigh, as if he simply told her a piece of bad news, and her severe expression seemed to harden a little as a result. "I've heard worse insults from the Kray twins when they were busy with their East End body count," Phoebe calmly replied, "And the foreigner jibe is incredibly ironic, given you're a Romanian national," letting slip that nugget of information and briefly enjoying the look of surprise on his face when she said it.

"So...what do you want from me, hmm?" He shot back, "Because both you and that Osakan *pește* I left on the street for dead can *futu-ți morții tăi* !" To which Phoebe raised an eyebrow and quipped back, "My my, an admission and an actually clever insult..." enjoying the brief bit of shock on his face as he now realized he'd let his anger get the better of his mouth, cursing himself in his native tongue for the error. "We are indeed making good progress," the woman amusingly remarked, "However, there is still the matter of who sent you to do it...and why you did it," pausing for a brief moment to figure out her phrasing "So...let us get back to where we left off. Because figuring out how to make strigoi like you scream will be quite educational..." Continuing her work as once again, the chambers were drowned by the sounds of the Blue Danube Waltz mixing with a man's distressed screaming.

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In the mean time, Cordelia was once again burying herself in evidence papers of the most recent crime to grace her desk. To her, it was seeming like some foreign gangsters muscling in on some other gang's turf, and one took insult with the man's profession and left the victim to die. Despite her feeling that the gang did the world a favor of ridding Osaka of one of its most notorious pimps...the fact that they were all supernaturals added a fresh layer of intrigue. Looking for any news, the newly frustrated detective decided to get a hold of her partner. The sounds of muted Romanian screams of distress along with the faint sound of a waltz greeted her ears...and she hoped those were good signs. "Helena...please tell me you have good news for me ?" Cordelia near-lamented, "As a matter of fact, I do, my dear," the affirmation from her partner making her raise a surprised eyebrow. "Do tell," the detective piped up, "Because I'd kill for any leads at this point." A chuckle greeted her ears before a polished South English voice greeted her once again, "As a matter of fact, the man currently screaming just admitted to committing the murder himself..." Helena letting out an amused snort, "And I didn't even have to press a blade to skin for him to do it."

Cordelia let out a sigh of relief, "Excellent. Keep up the good work and appraise me of any more information you can coax out of him," the detective dryly remarked, "In the meantime...I'll leave you to your busy work." Deadening the link before her ears were assailed by more screaming, and turning a fresh eye to the evidence sitting on her desk, and putting a name and face to the perpetrator of the murder that was only deepening in mystery and intrigue by the day: '*Filip Yonescu, Romanian National, appears to be 30 years of age. Healthy despite skin tone.*' Cordelia adding in her head: *and a near 550 year old strigoi vampire as well*. And given that supernatural aspect to him and the gang he was prowling with...it was now no wonder this case had ended up on her desk.

The absolute last thing she needed to find out was that a roving gang of vampires were ready to upset a delicate balance of power. So if it was gang related...she was going to have to do something about it.