If Max's mood had been foul before, it was far worse after visiting the police station. While signing the contract had only taken a few minutes, he'd been left with no choice but to wait for three hours due to minor oversight of not making an appointment.
So now, at ten o' clock in the morning, he'd decided that it was time for a drink. Luckily, the man he needed to see and the drink were at the same place. Max got into his car and started driving south. The place he was headed to was rather far away, and while the waiting room had been infuriating, it had given him a lot of time to think about what he already knew about the case.
First, Gil was most likely right. This was most likely an assassination, but Max wasn't sure if it was quite as simple as Gil made it out to be. Next, the fact that the blood was still warm was much more important than he'd first realized. In all likelihood, the assassin was most likely still in Fargo, or at least would be for the next twenty-four to seventy-two hours. Why? Simple. Any good detective would be watching for hasty exits from the city within that time frame. Which meant that said assassin would be left with two options. Lay low, or deal with the city's criminal overlord.
That overlord, just so happened to be the man that Max was going to see. A few minutes passed, the scenery blurring around Max as he drove at just under the speed limit. Acting fast was going to be his best bet at solving this case, and while he usually didn't care for traffic laws, getting pulled over for speeding would not be beneficial in the long run. He used this time to calm himself down, as meeting with a high profile individual with a poor attitude was never a good idea.
Now, the location in question came into view. What was this place, exactly? This was the Dry Bones Bar and Casino, run by none other than the greatest crime lord Fargo had ever seen, Bones Stallone.
The building itself was quite impressive, taking up the entirety of the city block and having been constructed from polished white and black marble and built in the shape of a mausoleum. Large Greek pillars waited at the end of the long staircase, which often had a red carpet spread across and down it. Despite the constant snow and often icy weather, the carpet was never wet or dirty, always immaculate. This was due to an enchantment provided by a mage Max had once met. He didn't like him.
Personal opinions aside, his work was impeccable. Not only was the carpet perfect, but the stone itself was enchanted to be resistant to scratches and weathering. Atop the establishment, was a large electric sign which featured a cartoon skeleton that wore a suit and hat displaying a thumbs up along with the building's logo, taking the otherwise mystical and intimidating building and making it into more of a local Vegas attraction than anything else.
Max parked and quickly slunk up the stairs. The bouncer, a large orc man by the name of Larry nodded at Max and allowed him to pass. Max was on good terms with Bones, who had allowed him free entry to his establishment at any time.
As soon as he passed the front doors, Max took a second to admire the inside of the casino. Despite having been there dozens of times, the sight still took his breath away every time. Shimmering black and gray marble replaced the outer shell, and a great chandelier hung in the middle of the room, green flames flickering atop the candles. Numerous smaller chandeliers hung around the room, the same cool green flames lighting the below room. Dozens of polished ebony tables and velvet lined chairs were scattered around the room, the middle left open for dancing. On the northern wall was a wide stage, also made from ebony. There, a lone woman stood and sang softly. She needed no microphone, for her voice was simply that powerful. A well dressed orc sat at a piano behind her, playing a soft jazz tune to enhance her voice. She noticed Max and gave him a small wave, to which he responded to by clearing his throat and looking down. She smirked and continued singing.
Few people were in the main room due to how early it was, but as always, a dirty looking man in a ragged suit sat at the craps table, endlessly playing. His reaction to winning and losing was the same off handed grunt. The man had pale green skin, like the color of mold. Actual clumps of mold hung in his messy brown hair, which fell unevenly from the ragged porkpie hat he wore.
Few would have guessed that this man was Stallone's right hand man. Despite his dumb look, he was one of the most intelligent individuals Max had ever met. It was this man that Max approached first in this wondrous place.
"Ah, Dead Ed, it's been way too long." Max said in a cheerful voice, clapping the man on the shoulder and sitting down next to him. Ed grunted and then chuckled, not bothering to look at Max.
"It's been four days, kid. Here to see the boss?" Dead Ed croaked, his voice dry and ragged. It would be of course, granted that Ed was in fact dead.
"Yeah. Sadly I've got some rather serious business today. You might actually want to come along this time." Max's cheery tone was now gone. Given how rarely that happened in his presence, Ed raised a moldy eyebrow and pushed himself up, his old bones cracking as he walked away from the table.
Max followed him, and the two slowly walked up a set of marble stairs. Ed was naturally quite slow, so Max made an effort to keep pace with him. He used this time to try and catch the stage performer's eye, but a swift smack on the back courtesy of Ed corrected the endeavor.
"Don't distract the workers, you fiddlestick of a man." Ed scolded. Max snorted at the name, but managed to keep a solid composure when Ed's bloodshot gaze fell upon him.
The two finally reached the top of the stairs, only to be greeted by the sound of a high pitched nasally cackle. Ed grunted and raised his arm and slowly knocked on the door three times. The laughing abruptly stopped, and Max heard the sound of a throat being cleared.
"Enter." That same high pitched voice said. Ed turned the door knob and pushed it open, revealing a neat office that looked quite similar to the party room downstairs. Black and gray polished marble floors and walls, with a large double pane window on the east wall of the room. In the center of the room, was a great desk made of wood and painted white. Two large chairs of a similar color scheme sat in front of the desk, which provided a stark contrast to the rest of the otherwise dark room, but given who occupied the large chair behind the desk, the audacity of the desk made sense.
He wore a steel gray and obsidian black pinstripe suit and hat, with a bright green and purple striped tie. He sat with his elbows on the desk, fingers steepled together. However, the bizarre outfit was not the strangest thing about this man. No, that would have to be the simple fact that this man had no skin, muscles or organs, being nothing more than a skeleton.
This was Bones Stallon, the most powerful crime lord in Fargo. For a tense second, no one said anything. And then, Bones burst out laughing
"Nya-ha-ha! It's nice to see ya Maxwell, how's it been, are ya well?" Max sighed at the horribly unfunny, if clever, wordplay and seated himself across from the mob boss. Ed rested his face in his hand but said nothing.
"I'm fine, Bones. We can't play around today. I'm sure you already know that a goblin ambassador by the name of Galgan was murdered last night."
"Yeah, I heard about it. And no, no one's tried to leave the city through my terminals. At least, not yet." Bones was entirely serious when he spoke. This man's ability to switch his moods on the turn of a dime astounded Max, who nodded and took a notepad from his pocket and jotted down what Bones had just said.
"I see. Any word on who the killer might be?"
"Well, goblins aren't exactly super popular here. Assuming it wasn't the elves, as they were undergoing peace talks last I'd heard, It really could be anyone. A non magical human is unlikely, especially when you look at the struggle before Galgan's death. I knew him, by the way. Decent fellow. Anyway, I know it wasn't one of my boys. Hell, I had drinks with the guy a month ago." Bones sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap as he spoke. He was also taking the matter seriously. Max smiled, glad to see that they were on the same page.
"Are there any outside forces we should consider? If your gang wasn't involved, are there any other groups in Fargo that I need to look into?"
"Heh, funnily enough, the only gangs I don't control would be goblin and elf groups. I'd start with them. How long do you have to wrap this up? Can't be more than a week, as the peace talks resume in a week."
"Yeah, I've got a week. I'm officially a police consultant now, so I should have easier access to their intelligence."
"You do know that I already have everything they have, right?" To further drive his point home, Bones pulled a small laptop from his desk and opened it. The computer started up instantly, displaying the security camera footage from the zoo.
"I know, and in pretty much any other scenario, I'd be right there with you. But now I have to play by the rules, or the arrest might not hold up. If it doesn't hold up and the assassin gets released, I'll pretty much become public enemy number one, and I really don't want that happening." Max grumbled, closing his notepad and gesturing for Bones to put the laptop away. He moved to do so, but stopped and tapped a finger to his chin.
"That's understandable. Do you have a time of death? Of course you do. Tell ya what. Give me the time of death, and I'll watch this footage myself and put some of my boys on this. I'm sure that the police wouldn't mind an anonymous tip, which your detective friend would end up sharing with you. I've met Gil, he's a good guy. Knows what he's about. If he wasn't so loyal to the force, I'd have recruited him the first time we met." As Bones spoke, a wide grin spread across Max's face. Getting Bones' help, either direct or indirect, had been a top priority and he'd just achieved it.
"By my count, the victim died about ten hours ago. Thanks for the help, Bones. I should probably get going now. I need to get Gil's permission to read some statements and watch that tape. Do a bit of looking around myself." Max gripped the arms of his chair and pushed himself up to leave, flashing a smile at the mafia boss, who grinned back. As he reached the door, Bones spoke up again.
"Ah wait, before ya go. Have ya used 'em yet?" He asked, a spark of excitement that hadn't been there before now in his tone.
"Not yet, sadly. Luckily I've managed to avoid violence for the past couple weeks." Max said, turning back to Bones, who looked somewhat saddened by the news.
"Ah, a shame. Well, whenever ya do get to use 'em, just let me know. I'm sure they'll rattle 'em whoever needs it. See ya soon, Maxwell." With that, Max offered a similar farewell, nodding at the skeleton and flashing him a lopsided grin. Bones chuckled and reopened the laptop. Max opened the door and left, shutting it behind him gently.
On his way down the stairs, Max tried to catch the female singer's eye again, but failed to and left the bar, slightly dejected. Now, it was back to the police station. Gil had to be back by now, and the sooner Max read the statements and watched the tape, the sooner he could actually start looking for the killer and their employer.
Max stepped out into the parking lot and slung his backpack over his shoulder. It was a large bag, and was composed of a kevlar and microfiber mesh, along with a thin and flexible steel plate woven inside the bag. This was meant to keep the contents of this bag safe, as well as the carrier, especially given the theoretical contents of this bag. However, at this point in time, the bag's convenient material build was put to a much more practical use, as a rifle round struck the bag, knocking Max off of his feet and tearing a small hole in it.
A second later, another round followed, this one striking the concrete next to Max's head, ricocheting off with a loud ping. By the time the third shot came, Max was back on his feet and sprinting for his car at top speed, the bullet striking where his head had been just seconds before!
As there was no audible gunshot, Max assumed his attacker was using a silencer, which meant they wanted stealth. And so, Max drew a small bag of powder from his sleeve and hurled it into the ground with as much force as he could muster while running. The powder struck the ground and ignited, creating a massive, and loud, shockwave. The force of the wave knocked Max clean off his feet and helped him clear the remaining dozen meters between him and his car within a second. He struck the car head first, feeling the old aluminum bending inwards at the force of the impact. For the next few seconds, Max lay dazed, trying to shake stars from his vision.
Other than giving Max head trauma, the shockwave had also set off every car alarm in the lot. Naturally, the owners of those cars came pouring out of the bar to see what the commotion was. The scene that greeted them was a bizarre one. A small patch of concrete smoldered a dozen meters from a pale and gangly man who was currently nursing a head injury.
Bones peered down from his office, confused at what events could have possibly led up to the scene he was currently looking at. It was then that he caught a faint glimmer in the corner of his eye socket. Someone was running away, using the rooftops like springboards to propel themselves away as fast as possible. That someone wore a long purple coat, which billowed in the wind behind its fleeing owner. His gaze drifted back over to the laptop monitor, where what seemed to be that same figure was mercilessly stabbing the ambassador in the abdomen.
"Interesting." Bones remarked as he gestured for Ed to go and help Max, who was now slowly standing up, seemingly having recovered from his injury.
Whoever had killed Galgan was aware of Maxwell's involvement, which could only mean one thing. Acting on his new hunch, Bones crouched down and reached a hand under his desk, and groped around until he felt a small object stuck to the bottom of his desk.
Yanking it off with no effort, he lifted the tiny object to eye level. It was a bug, with a dim green light flickering exactly once per second. It was recording. If he'd had a face, it would have twitched as he crushed the object between his fingers. Bones sat down and began to tap his fingers together again.
He had a lot of thinking to do.