I lean back in my chair, the old kind that creaks no matter how you sit on it, typing up the last of my police report. With a heavy sigh, I click 'send' and thus clear my plate until this afternoon. That is, until something is inevitably dropped into my lap. With the crime rate as high as it is, slow days are becoming increasingly rare.

"Finished already?" Officer Laurent peeks over his monitor from across the desk. The younger, aspiring officer looks at me with curious eyes, eager to inject some levity into the monotonous day. He is still rough around edges, but hard working and good-hearted. I'm sure he will make a great Captain someday, but only if he learns to power through the tedium. Surely then he'll be promoted from desk duty. He looks at me with an early-morning pep that has long left me. "It's only ten in the morning, sir?"

"I work fast, unlike some people." I poke at him, cracking a smile. I lean forward, causing the chair to creak again, louder this time. "Ugh." 

"I'll never understand why you work out here when you've got that big, fancy office. Not to mention that comfy chair." He gestures to the room with the glass window and drawn curtains across from us.

I give him a tired look, contemplating whether to explain myself or simply tell him to focus on his work. "Maybe I prefer being out in the open instead of that little cage, or maybe I prefer the company. Either way, you've got a report to finish. Get back to work, kid."

"Right! Yes, sir..." He sits up straight and gets back to earning his paycheck. I hear the clacking of his keyboard, followed by the distinctive sound of a pill bottle being popped. This time I take a peek over our monitors, catching a glimpse of the label as he downs two of them.

"Moxanen. That's expensive stuff." I say, knowing well that while expensive, it works as advertised, and that there are no alternatives in the market. At least, not for Lillis.

"Ah, well, thankfully I can afford it. There are many who can't, or worse, who ration." He frowns, downing them with a sip of coffee. "I try to take them before work, but I was running late today."

I become quiet, a sympathetic expression on my face as I look at him. I always had my suspicions he was ill, but I'd hoped to be wrong. I feel I should say something kind, but compassionate words have never been my strong suit. Maybe back when I was his age, I guess.

"Heads up, detective." A voice pipes up from behind. I turn to see Deputy Chief Faisal just before he drops a folder labeled 'CONFIDENTIAL' on my desk. Right on time, I think, hating always being right. "The Chief's got a big one for you today."

"You don't say?" I pick up the file, rising to stand in front of him. "Let's talk in my office."

The two of us head over there to speak in private, locking the door behind us before we utter a single word. I take a seat at my desk while he remains standing in front of it. The look on his face tells me this is serious, even before reading a single word.

"Last night, the CEO of Harmony Pharmaceuticals suffered a heart attack during his company's gala over in Brobdingnag." He tells me, getting straight to the point. I've always liked that about him. He doesn't care for pleasantries, either. It's why we get along. "The man was old, and while it seemed natural, this morning their forensics team confirmed the presence of a rare toxin in his blood. Normally, this would strictly be their jurisdiction, but there were Lilli shareholders present at the time. They aren't letting the witnesses leave until they're questioned, but their officers can't question them without one of our own present."

"So they're keeping them hostage?" I ask, hardly able to believe what I'm hearing.  "What the hell do they think they're doing?!"

He gestures for me to hold on until until he finishes, stopping me before I can get too angry. "It's a messy situation for everyone involved. Believe you me, I hate the Brobs as much as you do, but this could become an international incident. With things as tense as they are nowadays, it's the last thing we need." He sighs, pinching his nose in frustration. "It's a high profile case, and seeing as you are the best, the Chief has assigned this to you."

"Tell the Chief I decline. I'm not interested in flying to Brobdingnag. This sounds way above my pay grade." I scoff, folding my arms, daring him to say what I know he will say. 'Turn in your badge' is a line I've heard many times in my career, but here I am, with my badge still in my possession. 

"He knew you'd say that. For once, detective, you can't decline." He tells me sternly. "This comes from the President himself." With a single word, my reluctance disappears, replaced by sheer intrigue. It must be obvious to him, as he cracks a smile. "There it is. That's the look."

"Get on with it. What does the President want with me of all people?" I lean forward in my seat, resting my elbows on my best, fingers interlaced, eyes unblinking.

"The Lilliputian and Brobdingnagian governments have agreed to cooperate to resolve this situation. That's what they've told the public. The real reason you're needed is to investigate the true cause of this homicide. They are sending their best, and as such, have requested ours as well." He explains, hoping to flatter me into accepting. It doesn't work.

"Absolutely not. I'd die before I work with one of them!" I growl at him, standing up and slamming my hands on the desk. "How would it even work? Maybe if he was a Gulli, but a Brob-"

"She." The Deputy Chief corrects me.

"What?" I give him a puzzled look.

"Your partner for this investigation is a woman." He tells me, catching me totally off guard. "You can read more about her in that file, if you ever decide to open it up."

With much reluctance but even more curiosity, I open the file and begin reading the first page. Much of the details were already summarized by Faisal, but there is also information about the main suspects, witnesses, and the Brob detective. They neglected to include a picture, so I have nothing to go on. She's closed a ton of high-profile cases, some I've even heard of. I've closed countless cases too, and brought justice whenever I've been called upon.The more I read, the more my intrigue grows. This case, however, is unlike anything I've ever come across. Who the hell kills with Virelith, these days, let alone a Brob? As much as I hate the conditions, I want to take this on.

Deputy Chief Faisal remains standing quietly, waiting for me to say something. He already knows he's convinced me, and all that is left is for me to formally accept. Closing the file, I stand up an extend a hand. "Fine, I accept. I have no interest in the giants, but a mystery is a mystery."

He takes my hand and shakes it firmly. "We leave it to you. Pack your things, your flight is in two hours." 

The next two hours fly by. I run home and haphazardly pack a small suitcase, catch a cab to the airport, and meet up with my liaison before boarding a private jet. It's really fancy, like the kind billionaires use. The seats are spacious and extremely comfortable, too. We take off shortly after, and I decide to nap until we land. The flight to Brobdingnag isn't as long as I was expecting. Unlike most commercial aircraft, this one is very, very fast. The entire flight takes only two hours whereas any other aircraft would have taken ten or more. I've heard rumors of technology like this, but experiencing it firsthand is something else altogether. I can hardly believe it when they announce we will be arriving soon. 

Instead of landing at an airport, we instead fly directly to their precinct. I see it below us as we descend. It is...tremendously big! I struggle to find words to describe it. Several cities could fit in the space that one building occupies. Only when we approach do I spot the Lilli-scale airstrip and a single building, all on the rooftop. I would have noticed it sooner, if not for the two Brobs standing a few feet away, clearly waiting for us to arrive. I cannot see them all that well through my tiny window, but I can tell that they are massive. A feeling of disgust forms in the pit of my stomach, and I tear my eyes away in repulsion.

We touch down and disembark, coming to stand at the feet of the two giants. Unable to avoid the inevitable, I finally decide to look their way. They stand close, but not too close. I would estimate a hundred meters between the toes of their shoes and the landing strip. Looking forward, I can see nothing but their shoes, each being almost as long as the airstrip, and much taller. Craning my neck all the way back, I can see the rest of them. On the left is a man, and on the right, a woman. My gaze fixes on her, wondering if this is the person I am going to be working with. I can't make out the details due to the bright sun. It's then that I regret leaving my sunglasses at home.

"Detective, please put this on." My liaison says, handing me an earpiece. "I have already established the connection for you."

I nod and promptly stick it in my ear. This must be how they plan to bridge the communication problem. It must mean that these two Brobs are each wearing a pair as well. Clearing my throat, I decide to speak first.

"Right. So, you asked for me, and here I am. Detective Flint at your service. Now, take me to the Lillis you're keeping hostage and let's wrap this up so I can go home."

"Detective!" He whispers at me, covering his earpiece with a hand. "I was tasked with introducing you. Please, do not-"

"Ehem." The Brob man silences our liaison before getting on with his own introduction. "Welcome to Brobdingnag, Detective Flint. We hope your flight was-"

"This is a waste of time." The Brob woman interrupts him, folding her arms impatiently. "The speck makes a good point. Let's get on with it." She then takes a step forward, closing the distance between us and producing a powerful wind as her low-heeled boot touches down dangerously close to us. Her colossal form then crouches down, her upturned hand dropping low and extending a finger toward me. A red, manicured nail digs into the strip, tearing up some of the asphalt in the process. "Climb on."

Unfazed, I look at my liaison, who seems absolutely horrified, and then back at the huge finger in front of us. If she had ordered me to, I would have refused, but her tone sounded respectful. "Have my things brought to the hotel. I'll see you later." I tell my liaison, shaking his hand and climbing aboard the giantess' finger. I climb her nail up until I reach her finger and climb onto that next. Finding a safe spot near the middle, I brace myself as she raises it from the ground and rises to her full height. The entire movement is an experience for me, more intense than any roller-coaster I've been on. She takes little care to make it safe, which is plainly obvious to her liaison who lets out an anxious yelp. She turns, putting the sun behind her and walking into the building. With all the brightness gone and her face much closer now, I try to make out her details, but cannot. My eyes are not yet adjusted to the dim lighting of the stairway.

The woman walks, each step causing her finger to bounce a little. I retain my grip on her skin, afraid of falling to my doom. I don't dare look down, knowing that it must be a kilometers-long drop to the floor. Not long after, the woman takes me into what looks to be an office and shuts the door behind her. With the glass windows and comfy chair, it's a lot like mine, but magnitudes larger. She stands in front of her desk and lowers her finger to it. 

"Stand here." She tells me, in a tone similar to before. I stand up and begin the trek downward, only for her to grow impatient when I am near the tip of her nail, and tilt her finger. I slide down to the table below, barely avoiding injury as I land on its surface. Her hand withdraws, moving to rest on her hip, while the other is placed just above her chest. With my eyes finally adjusted, I can finally make out just who I am dealing with.

Firstly, this titan of a woman is tall, even by Brob standards. She must be over six feet tall by her standards. That is closer to ten or eleven kilometers on my scale. Her face shows signs of aging, but is otherwise youthful in appearance. She is likely in her late forties or early fifties, like myself. I see minimal makeup apart from the dark mascara on her long eyelashes. She has long, brown hair tied neatly in a bun, a few gray strands here and there. She wears a tailored, black blazer under which is a crisp, white blouse that adds a touch of elegance, with the top button left undone, giving a relaxed yet professional look. Her trousers are slim-cut and dark, practical and stylish enough to tell me she pays meticulous attention to detail. A leather belt cinches at her waist, to which her holster and firearm are attached, discreetly hidden between her and the blazer. Lastly, there are her stud earrings and thin necklace which her fingers appear occupied with while she sizes me up. 

"My name is Detective Claire. I should let you know before anything else that I was vehemently opposed to this partnership. I am this nation's best, and I exclusively work alone." She declares, an imperious expression painted on her face. "Though, it seems neither of us have a say in the matter. Like you, I would prefer to complete this assignment as soon as possible. That being said, I cannot work with a total stranger. You may be a speck of a man from a foreign land, but you are to be my partner. We will be working closely together, and I would much prefer to call you by name than by 'speck'."

The giantess eyes me carefully, expectantly, and despite her authoritative presence, I can tell she is genuinely curious. This is only speculation, but everything about her tone and body language tells me this is a first for her as well. She has never met a Lilli before. There are many things I could say. I could comment on the derogatory word she used not once, not twice, but thrice to describe me, or I could give her the same arrogant introduction in some immature attempt to establish superiority. I could also hurl all the insults in my vocabulary at this Brob, taking full advantage of the fact that she cannot harm me in retaliation. All of those ideas, while appealing, would be counterproductive. Instead, I decide to be cooperative, for the most part.

"Detective Claire, if you use that word one more time, any chance of a partnership goes out the window. We are both too old for this crap." I chastise her, which earns a visible reaction of discomfort from her. I grin a little, far more satisfied with that than I would have been with any of my previous ideas. "I am Detective Flint, also my nation's best, and to no surprise, someone who prefers to work alone. Know that this is just as frustrating for me as it is for you, but we will get nowhere with pointless disrespect, let alone such unoriginal ones." I say, which now causes her to scowl. Ignoring that, I continue: "I never fail to close a case, and from what I've heard, neither do you. Speaking objectively, this partnership makes a lot of sense. I don't doubt we will benefit from each other's experience."

There is a brief pause after I finish, and a total silence from her. I clearly caught her off-guard, which was intentional. What I don't expect is for her to quickly regain her composure and respond. It happens too quickly, almost unnaturally.

"Hmph. Now I see why they sent you. You're a stoic." She smirks, crouching down to see my better. Her face approaches, until her green eyes are all I can see. "Uhuh. I can't see much, but this does help..." Then, her head raises slightly, her lips replacing her eyes to take up my view. They curl before she blows out a puff of air at me. The powerful gust knocks me backward and across the desktop several feet. She then stands up again, a hand on her hip and another extending to place an object before me. Outwardly, it looks like a ball earring, but upon closer inspection, I realize that it is far more. "I sincerely apologize for calling you a speck. I was eager to get to know you, and how better than to see how you act when provoked? Most tend to disagree with my methods, but they get results. You may be very small to me, but they would not have sent you if you were not capable."

"You are...not like I expected. In more ways than one." I shake my head at her, amused by her ruse and irked at myself for falling for it. "What purpose did blowing on me serve? I am waiting for an apology."

"Then you will be waiting a while." She speaks through grit teeth, her gaze turning cold. "You should not have called me old." She glares at me for a moment, before melting back to her calm but serious demeanor. She uses a finger to nudge the earring closer to me, sparing me the jog over to it. It is a small act of consideration, but it is much appreciated. "Well, I think that is enough chatting for now. I assume you aren't familiar with this either?"

"I am not." I say, walking up to it and pulling the hatch open. "But it seems fairly straightforward? I would hope the Detectives tasked with solving a mystery can figure out a simple Lilli-carrier accessory." I step inside, sealing the hatch behind me. Moving to my seat, I turn on the stabilization and relax as the cabin remains upright in spite of the movement on the outside.

Detective Claire picks it up, raising it to her ear and latching it back where it belongs. I look out from my new vantage point, so high from the ground, and nod in approval. I can see all that she sees, all from a safe place. Yes, this will do nicely. 

"Are you secure, Detective?" She asks me, out of necessity rather than concern.

"Yes. Everything seems to be in order..." I answer, seeing all green lights on my dashboard.

"Let's get moving. I am sending you the forensic report now. Take a look while I walk to the Crime lab." I brace myself, expecting things to become unstable once she begins walking, but they don't. The cabin is not entirely still, but the giantess' movements don't bother me hardly at all. 

Opening up the file, I take a look at the toxicology report. This one has much more information than the one I received before. Virelith, an extremely rare poison derived from a plant native to Lilliputia, was found in trace amounts in his bloodstream. It can theoretically induce a heart attack, but usually causes more alarming symptoms such as asphyxia and hemoptysis. I flip to the deceased's most recent medical report from a week ago, confirming his health was decent. There is no history of heart disease in his family, and all things considered, I am doubtful age was a factor.

"This doesn't add up. Virelith isn't accessible to the Lilliputian public, let alone in Brobdingnag. The lethal dose for a Brob would require tens of liters of the stuff. Not to mention how easily it breaks down in warm temperatures." I think aloud, letting her in on my thought process. "Maybe they found the wild plant? No, that still wouldn't be enough to do him in."

"Could it have been synthetic?" Claire asks, turning a corner and continuing down the hall. "The pharmaceutical company possesses the means to reproduce chemical compounds."

"It's possible, but it would be ridiculously expensive. The killer would have needed both the means and the money to do that." I finish my thought as she enters the lab. She walks over to a younger woman dressed in a lab coat. Beside her is the body of the victim, totally exposed except for his crotch area for modesty's sake.

"Good afternoon, Detective. Erm, Detectives!" The woman greets and then quickly corrects herself. She leans in a little to try to see me inside of Claire's earring. "I've laid out the deceased's personal effects over here and the body over here." She gestures for us.

"Thank you, Katie. Have you found anything new since this morning?" Claire asks, walking to the table with his clothes. She reaches in and probes all the pockets of the expensive suit, finding nothing other than a business card and his cell phone. "Have you managed to go through this yet? I heard we received the expedited search warrant within a few hours."

"Yes, and there was nothing on it." Katie shrugs. "The man only used it as a phone. Literally not a single application or photo or video, imagine that!"

"Hmm." Claire paces around the table, examining it. She mumbles something I can't hear before deciding to leave. "Thank you. That will be all for now."

"Hold on, I didn't get a good look at anything. Go back." I implore her, but she keeps on walking.

"There's nothing more to find. I've done this hundreds of times. If there was anything, I would have noticed it." She explains, walking down the hall with no intention of turning back for me. I don't appreciate that. Though, I suppose this loss of agency was unavoidable. That doesn't make it any less frustrating, though. Noticing my silence, Claire speaks up. "I will take you back, but first, we need to interview the suspects. I have a feeling we'll learn far more from them than the body."

"What makes you so sure?" I roll my eyes.

"It's a hunch. Come now, Detective, you of all people should understand." She says as she enters the interview room. "Let's go catch a killer."

Walking around with a Lilli is strange, but doing so while they are hidden in an accessory is ever stranger. I cannot understand how anyone would willingly do this, but I concede that it is highly practical. My hands are free and Detective Flint is safe in there, so I should not be complaining. Still, it is as though my personal space is being violated. For the millionth time today, I wish that I could be working alone...

Walking into the interview room, I find Chief Perry already there, standing with her back to me, reading through a file. In front of her is a two-way glass window with a view of an older woman, the CEO's wife, seated at and handcuffed to the table. Of all the suspects, she is the one I believe Flint will be most interested in, which is good because she will be first. 

The Chief hears me enter, turning her head to glance at me, but remains focused on her reading, flipping to the next page. "Detective, you're early. I take it you rushed your introductions?"

"Yes, ma'am. I was eager to get started right away." I tell her, pointing a finger toward my earring. "Detective Flint from Lilliputia is currently with me."

"Good. Now we can begin interrogating this lot properly." She drops the file onto a nearby table and steps closer to me. Her eyes glance my earring, her disgust and frustration plainly visible. Given her very strong opinions on Lillis, I am certain she has much to say to Flint, but is practicing self restraint. I believe she opposes the notion that we need a Lilli to help us resolve this, but there is nothing you can do when the Queen herself makes a personal request. Trying to put on a friendly face, she focuses on my face rather than the earring. "We have narrowed down the suspects to five individuals. Three are Brobs, and two are Lillis, and all of them have motive. The both of you will interrogate them until we determine who the true killer is. You are to do this together, and for the Lillis, we have already set up accommodations. We are approaching the legal limit for suspect detention, so try not to take too long. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." I nod, holding back my protests. This time constraint will surely place an uncomfortable urgency upon us. I hear Flint complaining through my earpiece, asking me to question the Chief, but I ignore him. He doesn't know her like I do. She will not take kindly to back-talk, especially if it comes from a Lilli.

"Godspeed, Detectives." She says, taking her seat once more, but not before casting one last irritated glance toward my earring. Waving a hand in the air, she gestures for us to begin.

I enter the room and take my seat in front of our first suspect. Taking the earring off my ear, I lower it to the table, in front of what appears to be a very tiny platform and podium, with a normal-sized speaker and screen beside it. I watch as the earring opens up and my tiny partner makes his way onto it. He doesn't say a word, moving into position, all while our suspect is motionless in front of us, staring blankly into her lap. She is so distraught that she does not even realize someone has entered until I speak. 

"Good evening, Mrs. Harmond. I am Detective Claire and joining me is Detective Flint." I gesture to my earring. The woman finally looks up, her eyes bloodshot and her mascara running from all her tears. She is an utter mess, trembling and hardly able to focus. I sympathize with her, but I cannot afford to be compassionate. We are investigating the homicide of a high-profile individual, and despite being his wife, she is at the top of the list of suspects. It wouldn't be the first time I've encountered spousal murder.

"Detectives..." She sniffles, trying to raise her hands, but the chains of her cuffs prevent her. "My Robert... My dear, sweet Robert..." Tears begin to well up in her eyes. "I don't understand what is happening. Why am I here?"

"You're here because you're a prime suspect in your husband's murder." I hear Detective Flint's voice over the speaker. His voice sounds clear and audible, no different than a Brob's. The screen then comes online, providing face for the disembodied voice. It is my first look at the Lilli I've been speaking to.

The man exudes an air of quiet confidence as he stands at the podium, questioning Mrs. Harmond. Despite being so puny in comparison to her or me, he remains unafraid. His blue eyes are sharp and observant, intense, but with an underlying warmth to them. His face is marked with a few wrinkles that speak of late nights and hard cases. Some meticulously groomed stubble accentuates his jawline, giving him somewhat of a rugged look. On the other hand, his hair, already half gray, is kept short and neat, giving him a composed and professional image. He wears a light gray dress shirt underneath a well-tailored back blazer, paired with black, sharply pressed trousers held up by sleek, leather belt that adds a touch of sophistication. His firearm and holster rest on his hip, along with a miniature notebook on the opposite side. An expensive, silver watch adorns his wrist, completing the ensemble for a respectable and authoritative look.

"You have a clear motive, not to mention ample means." He presses her, quite directly.

"Who...?" Mrs. Harmond looks at the screen, before her eyes fall on Detective Flint. I expect her expression to change into anger or disdain, but it doesn't. She simply addresses him instead of me in the same desperate, miserable tone. "What motive...would I...possibly have?"

"Your business." I cut in, bringing her attention back to me. "You knew that Mr. Harmond left everything he owned, including his company, to you. No dependents, relatives, or close friends. Just you." I tell her, pausing to gauge her reaction. She stares in disbelief, finally piecing together why she is here. "Your husband did not die of natural causes. He was poisoned, which induced the heart attack. That poison is incredibly difficult to acquire. It would take millions, if not tens of millions, and you are definitely not lacking in funds."

"Oh, dear Lord!" She cries out, tears beginning to overflow. She stutters, hardly able to catch her breath. "I-I have no clue what you are talking about! I loved Robert! H-He was my everything!"

The woman sobs even louder, unable to compose herself. It's heartbreaking to watch. Whether she did it or not, the emotions on display are genuine. I firmly believe she loved her husband. The question remains, was that love stronger than her love for money?

"Ma'am, we are only trying to piece together what happened." I try, in a softer tone. "Did you husband have any enemies? Let's start there."

Unfortunately, Mrs. Harmond cannot stop her tears. Both Flint and I try to calm her a few more times, but she is absolutely inconsolable. I don't see us getting anywhere while she is in this state.

"I think we're done here." I declare, prompting two officers to enter the room and remove her. Once she is out, I take the chance to pick Flint's brain. We will have the room for under a minute, so I but it's better than nothing. My eyes dart between the screen and the real him as we talk. "I don't think she did it."

"Neither do I. However, the evidence points to her." He sighs, surprising me with his agreement. He seems very bothered by what we just witnessed. "Let's bring the next one in. Hopefully we can get some actual information this time."

The officers enter, bringing with them a young man in a tuxedo. He looks to be twenty five-ish, fit, handsome, and very annoyed. Your typical rich kid. Once he is at the table, he decides to begin before I can even say a word.

"My dad's never going to let this go. Do you know who I am?!" He scoffs, looking me up and down. His eyes linger on my chest, and he smirks, before returning to his anger. "Listen, lady, I didn't do shit. I'm as innocent as a newborn baby. I've already been here for, like, so many hours without just cause! Let me go now and I swear I'll tell dad to go easy on you guys." He winks at me.

I've been on the force for many years, and harassment is nothing new to me. Sometimes it's the criminals, other times it's the male officers. It doesn't matter, it's all the same. I'm a woman in a role usually held by men, in a field dominated by them. It doesn't matter what I wear or what rank I attain, men will always be men. It used to bother me much more in my younger years, but now it's only mildly irritating. I pull my blazer closed and snap my fingers at him like I would a dog. 

"Mr. Paul, I don't think you realize the situation you're in. You are a suspect in the murder of Mr. Harmond. You are not going anywhere until you've been questioned." I tell him, sternly.

"Yeah, well, show me your evidence!" He rolls his eyes at me, though his shift in tone tells me he's taking things a little more seriously. "Got none? Yeah, of course you don't. I didn't even go near the man all night."

He's not wrong. We lack solid evidence tying him to the murder, but he certainly has motive. He doesn't look like a criminal, nor a murderer, but that doesn't mean he couldn't have hired someone to do it. Like Mrs. Harmond, he also possesses ample funds.

"Witnesses claim to have seen you arguing with Mr. Harmond approximately an hour before he died. It seems that you were awfully angry about something." I tell him, which causes him to freeze up. "And we have video evidence to confirm it."

"Listen, that was nothing. I had a little too much to drink and I thought I caught him sneaking peeks at my girl. That's all!" He insists, a pleading look on his face. "I was going to apologize to him later. My dad would've killed me if I'd pissed the old man off. He respects him a lot, you know."

Suddenly, Flint joins in the conversation. "Sure, let's go with that. I'm more interested in a recent purchase you made. One Brob-milligram of powderized Virelith two weeks ago. Such a rare and expensive product isn't all that useful to a playboy like yourself. Care to tell us about that?"

Mr. Paul's eyes quickly switch to Flint's screen and widen in surprise. Then, he begins to laugh. "What the hell? They've got Lilli cops on this too? Hah!" I wait for Flint to say something, but he simply waits for the kid to calm down. I join him in his silence, until our suspect wisens up and decides to behave properly.

"The Detective asked you a question, did he not?" I press him. "Kindly answer him."

With some reluctance, Mr. Paul looks in Flint's general direction and complies. "Well, I, uhh... I'm not going to deny I bought it. It's not illegal to do so in Brobdingnag! Right?"

"It is not." I confirm for him, much to his relief.

"But it is in Lilliputia. Whoever sold it to you is going to be locked up for no less than ten years." Flint explains, though it elicits no visible reaction from Mr. Paul.

"Okay, and? That's their business. I'll give you the farmer's contact information if that's what you want. Serves him right for selling to me at a damn high price!" He shakes his head, hoping for sympathy or maybe a chuckle. He finds none from me. "There was a rumor that mixing the powder with...some other substance...could make you...uh, well, trip, if you catch my drift."

"Substance abuse. You were getting high off an exotic plant that someone scammed you into buying, which in reality, has no hallucinatory effects." I tell him, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Wait, what? That's bull. I had the wildest high!" He insists, though there is some doubt in his voice. He does not want to believe what I am saying.

"You got scammed, kid. And now you're wanted for murder. How's it feel to be promoted to number one on the list of suspects?" Flint mocks him, which I find juvenile, until I see the effect it has on Mr. Paul. The young man is mortified.

"Guys, please. I didn't kill Mr. Harmond! I know it looks bad, but I'm innocent. I was just fooling around!" He practically begs, reaching his hand out to touch mine. The chains stop him, but I react instinctively, moving mine away. I neglect to realize how close my pinky is to Flint, and accidentally drop it on his platform, crushing the left side. I instantly pull it away, fearing the worst, but find the little man totally unharmed. In fact, he doesn't even react as he presses our suspect even harder.

"Detective Claire, I think we've got our guy. He's going away for a long, long time." He tells me, almost believably.

"What? No way! No!" He protests, pulling on his cuffs. "Wait! I have some information that might be useful!"

"Oh? Do tell." I ask, smirking a little. There is no way that worked. Not to understate Flint's tactics, but this guy cannot be this dumb! All he has to do is stay quiet and he'll probably get released soon...

"I know that Mr. Harmond was planning something big for the company. I don't have the details, but my dad mentioned it to me. The investors were really pissed off. Like, almost all of them! I swear that's all I know!"

Finally, a decent clue. Assuming he's telling the truth, this could be a big lead. I glance down at Flint, pleasantly surprised by him. Good going, little man. "Alright, I think that's enough. You can get going now, Mr. Paul."

Two officers enter and take our second suspect away, promptly bringing the third. It's a man in his forties, though likely younger than myself. He is dressed in a suit that has a wine-colored stain on the shirt. Unlike Mr. Paul, he seems much less irritated. I decide to jump right in.

"Mr. Boseman, do you know why you're here?" I say as he inspects his handcuffs. Having never been in a pair before, they seem to interest him.

"Good evening, Detective." He responds, automatically. "I'm told you have some questions for me?"

"Indeed I do. As does my partner, Detective Flint." I gesture to the screen, bringing his attention to Flint.

"Ah, a Lilli! I'm not surprised they brought a foreigner. This case is bigger than all of us. I hope it can be resolved as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I will not be answering questions today. I apologize for any trouble that may cause." He tells us with a smile.

"We are only seeking to hear your story. You have no reason to be afraid." I try, fearing he might shut down entirely. I know what he is doing, and I can't allow him to do it. This isn't my first interrogation, after all.

"Oh, I am not afraid, Detective. I am acting on the advice of my lawyer, who should be here shortly." He says, with that same smile on his face.

"Should you choose-" I begin, only for Flint to cut me off mid-sentence.

"If you want to do that, then go ahead. We'll get to the bottom of this with or without you." Flint remarks, not at all bothered by his refusal to cooperate. "Frankly, I don't suspect you anyway. Detective Claire, can we move on to the next suspect?"

His request comes as a surprise to me. I'd assumed he was using one of his tactics again, but I think he seriously wants to move on. Did he notice something I didn't? I think hard about what has been said. I give the suspect a good, long stare. 

Nothing. I can come up with nothing.

"Okay, then." I finally say, requesting the officers enter and take him away. They leave us alone for another minute before bringing in the next suspect. In that time I turn my attention to Flint and speak my mind. "You shouldn't have dismissed him so quickly. I wasn't prepared for that. I hope you had a good reason."

"I didn't." He says, flatly. "I just don't like dealing with lawyers."

My eyes widen in surprise and anger. Is he serious? That's his reason? What is he thinking! We just sent a suspect away without asking a single question. There is no way we will be able to get him back here, least of all if he lawyers up!

"Detective Flint, that was highly unprofessional. Careless, even. Are you not taking this seriously?" I say, slightly louder than I intend to.

"Watch your tone, Detective Claire." He responds, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "I may be asking you first, but that's just a courtesy. I have the authority to send a suspect away if I wish to." 

I form a fist and purse my lips. He is fixating on the wrong part of what I said. "No one is questioning your authority, Detective. I'm only asking why you are being so impatient when-"

The door to the interrogation room suddenly opens, and an officer enters with an odd-looking cube in hand, no bigger than a wireless earbud case. We both go quiet as not to let the next suspect hear us arguing. The officer sets it down beside Flint's platform and promptly leaves the room. I strain my eyes, watching as Flint enters it through a door and then the screen beside me switches to a view of the cube's interior. It appears to be an interrogation room identical to the one we're in, but much smaller. A camera in the corner gives me a view of what is happening inside. Our fourth suspect, a woman in her thirties, dressed in a revealing statement dress, sits at the table, waiting. Flint joins her and immediately begins the interrogation.

"Dr. Baird, I have some questions for you, but first..." Flint says, before going mute. I am confused for a moment, before I realize he has covered his mic with his hand. It's only for a brief moment, but it sends a clear message. My frustration with him continues to grow as I see him asking something, which the woman shakes her head in response to, before he allows me to hear the conversation again. "...that's good. Now, on to the questions. As one of Mr. Harmond's head of R&D, you work very closely with him, correct?"

"Yes, sir. I do." She nods, visibly more comfortable that she is speaking with a fellow Lilli. Though, there is great tension in her body language. I decide to let Flint take the lead with this suspect, fearing she might become less cooperative if I interject.

"I'm told you've been working together for roughly ten years?" He continues. "And that you live and work full-time here in Brobdingnag."

"Twelve, actually. I have only been formally employed under Mr. Harmond for ten." She corrects him. "And yes, I that is correct. I moved here when Harmony Pharmaceuticals offered me a job I couldn't refuse. In a good way, I mean." She chuckles nervously.

"How would you describe your relationship with Mr. Harmond? Rumor has it that you two were friends. That is quite uncommon, after all." Flint asks, probing further.

"Mr. Harmond is, or rather was, one of the greatest men I ever knew. Indeed, I have been close with him and Mrs. Harmond for several years. We are friends outside of work, but that isn't something we publicize." She explains, a wistful smile on her face. She looks away, reminiscing. "At first, I was very afraid to move here, to the land of giants. It's no secret that we're looked down upon. But Mr. Harmond doesn't think that way. He shows respect to everyone who earns it, and he was always very kind to me. As was Mrs. Harmond, but not nearly as much as him." Her gaze then fixes on Flint and she leans forward. Any tension in her expression is now gone. "Do you know why Mr. Harmond created Harmony Pharmaceuticals?"

"I would assume it was to make lots of money." Flint jokes, inviting her to correct him.

"No, no! Money was never his goal. He believes that healthcare is a universal right, and that everyone deserves access. Granted, developing effective drugs is expensive, so a nonprofit was out of the question." She shrugs, tilting her head a little. "Our company is the only producer of Moxanen that exports to Lilliputia. The active ingredient can only be grown on Brob motherland, not New Brobdingnag, and for reasons that need not be said, most companies refuse to export it to Lilliputia."

"I know, I read your companies bio." Flint urges her to get to the point.

"Then you know how prevalent Mengy's syndrome has become increasingly present in our homeland. Moxanen is the only available treatment..." She sighs, doing her best to summarize the thoughts in her head. "My point is that Mr. Harmond was a wonderful man and he will be dearly missed."

"I think I've heard enough. Thank you for your cooperation." Flint concludes, exiting the cube before calling for the officer to take the suspect away. This time, however, the officer brings the next suspect with him as he enters, switching this cube for another, and leaving us no time to discuss.

"Go ahead. Lillis respond better to Lillis, so I'll sit back and listen." I offer, though it irritates me that I cannot play a bigger role in the Lilli interrogations. 

The process is the same. Flint enters, takes his seat, and gets right into the questioning. All the while, I sit quietly and watch on the screen. This is suspect number five, the last one for now. He is a man in his thirties, similarly well dressed, in a tuxedo. Even from the screen, I can tell how incredibly calm he looks. Unlike Mr. Boseman, who was 'forcing' it, this man seems genuinely relaxed. It is...odd. It seems that Flint notices this too, as he looks into the camera, shooting me a certain glance.

"Mr. Collins, do you know-" Flint begins, but is interrupted by the man as soon as he begins.

"That won't be necessary, Detective." He says, standing up as best he can while his hands are cuffed to the table. He looks directly into the camera, addressing not just me, but the entire precinct. "My name is Howard Collins and I confess to the murder of Robert Harmond."

I have seen many confessions during my career as a Detective, but never one so shocking. It's one thing to confess to the murder of a fellow Lilli; hell, I've seen some pretty damn cold killers brag about it, but it's another thing entirely to claim to have killed a Brob. Lillis don't fell giants, not since the Great war. More importantly, how can he speak about it so calmly? I'm inclined to think he's joking, or making light of the situation for some reason.

As I try to formulate a fitting response to his outlandish claim, it seems that Detective Claire cannot sit quietly any longer. She addresses him directly, shattering the silence. Being a Brob, she has no need for mics or speakers. The natural volume of her voice rattles the room, easily reaching our ears.

"Mr. Collins, with all due respect to Lilli-kind, you could not have committed this crime. You are not physically capable of it." Claire explains, not to belittle Lillis, rather stating an obvious fact.

"And yet, I did. Allow me to explain exactly how I carried it out." He says, still standing, his resolve unshaken. "On the night of the Gala, I was on a Lilli platform situated on Mr. Harmond's table. I had arranged for exactly 0.024 Brob milliliters to be prepared in several syringes which I injected into his fingertip over the course of two hours. I know that fact has not been released to the public. Check the forensic report if you don't believe me." He continues, providing us with an impossible level of detail. "I had the toxin developed under temperatures five degrees below zero, and transported a day in advance. Check under stage, and you will find the cold storage unit where I kept them." 

"Someone would have seen you. There were others on that platform, and they would have noticed you going back and forth, let alone going under the platform." I argue, challenging his story.

"Perhaps, if not for the fact that there were only a handful of them, and they were far from sober!" He chuckles. "I wouldn't be surprised if they forgot the entire night."

"Why are you confessing to this so willingly?" I ask him, banging a fist into the table. Everything about this seems off. I know when I'm being messed with, and I don't appreciate it. Hopefully I can throw him off with my next line: "Assuming we can confirm your story, and trust me, we will, you're guilty of first degree murder on foreign soil. You'll be locked away for the rest of your life, if they don't give you the death penalty outright."

The man looks at me as if I'm beginning to bore him, and my comment does nothing to pressure him. In fact, it looks like I just confirmed what he already thought to be true. I feel myself losing ground.

"I understand the gravity of my crime, but I believe in the justice system." He says, without any elaboration. He then sits down calmly and does not utter another word.

I hear the door to the greater interrogation room slam open as someone enters. Judging by the voice, I can tell that it's Chief Perry. "I've heard enough. Mr. Collins, you are under arrest for the murder of Robert Harmond. I will personally be escorting you to your cell while you await trial. Detective Flint, please make your way out, immediately."

The cube rumbles as the giantess approaches, her heavy footsteps letting us know just how angry she is. I make a break for the door, stepping out just as her fingers pinch the sides of the building and hoist it into the air. I'd like to say I'm surprised by her disregard for my safety, but I'm not. I saw the way she was looking at me earlier. I am hardly even a person in her eyes. The Chief exits the room, leaving me alone with Claire, who also doesn't seem to concerned about me. She doesn't even look down as she stands up, a hand on her hip, staring blankly.

"Get in the carrier. We'll talk in my office." She sighs, with a hint of irritation in her voice.

I return to the Lilli carrier without a word, trying my best to focus on the case instead of how much Claire's orders piss me off. I expect her to put it back on her ear, but instead find myself being brought to the inside of her blazer, where she carelessly deposits the earring in her pocket. The drop is rough enough that I feel it, the shock making me dizzy. Left in total darkness, she walks back to her office without a care in the world. I hear her talking to some people along the way, ordering them to verify information and get back to her. Then, she continues walking. I hear a door open and close behind her, before she brings me out of her pocket and sets me down on her desk. I move to the hatch and step outside, finding myself on her desk, with her seated at it. The entire tabletop shakes as she comes to rest her elbows on it. Leaning in, her fingers massage her temples as she closes her eyes and thinks. It's a little unnerving, having her loom over me like this. I want to ask her to give me some space, but can't think of a nice way to say it.

"The Chief clearly wants this resolved as soon as possible. If his story checks out, then the case will be closed. Justice will have been served..." She groans, clearly unsatisfied with how things played out. "I don't approve of this. Even if the evidence points to him, I still don't buy it."

"I'm feeling the same way. This was all too easy." I shake my head.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." She says, pulling her arms back and sitting up straight. She pulls out a notebook from somewhere out of sight along with a pen. Clicking the top, she places it on the paper and begins to jot something down. She presses the top of her pen against her bottom lip, mumbling softly, "...all information we have."

I can't see what she's written, obviously. The notebook is easily as tall as a three story building and even if it wasn't, I wouldn't be able to make out anything while standing on the paper. Whatever, it doesn't matter to me. I doubt she wrote anything down that I hadn't already. No, I probably wrote more. 

"There were four other suspects. I think we can immediately rule two of them out." My declaration brings her attention to me, her eyes skeptical, yet interested. "Suspect one, the wife, and Suspect three, the mute. I don't believe they had any part in this."

"I agree with you about Mrs. Harmond. I don't believe she did it." She glances back at her notebook, reviewing her notes from earlier. "She has no criminal record and I don't buy the supposed 'motive' they assumed. If she truly wanted her husband dead, she could have gone about it much more discreetly. To do it during her company's Gala just does not make logical sense." Her expression softens a little as she continues. "And... I believe she loved him. They were married for over forty eight years."

"Yeah. I can't imagine the pain she's feeling." I try not to let my feelings cloud my judgement, but any detective worth their salt knows that you have to trust your gut. Though, a gut feeling can be wrong. That's why I asked her, so that I could confirm my feeling. "As for Mr. Boseman, he's just...an idiot."

"Come again?" She smirks for a moment, then it goes away.

"The man was incredibly nervous. His voice may have sounded confident, but his body betrayed him. You must have noticed?" I ask, hoping she caught that as well.

"Of course I did, that's standard behavioral analysis. His breathing was strained. He was sweating too." She comments, looking through her notes for more. "But that could be a result of guilt. Criminals, especially first-timers, tend to try extra hard to seem innocent, which has the opposite effect."

"There was something else, too. The way his hands were placed on the table." I place my own hands in a similar fashion, on an imaginary table in front of me. "When he said he 'was not afraid'... That was a lie. When he said 'I hope this can be resolved as soon as possible'... That was the truth. I don't need a polygraph to know that. Being so close to his hands, his pulse was practically vibrating the tabletop. I could feel when his pulse spiked."

Claire looks at me with both skepticism and amazement. "Is that...even possible? I didn't feel a thing."

"You aren't a Lilli, Detective. There are some things we perceive that you can't." I explain, as non-offensively as possible. "It's not a trick I practiced. If I'd been just a little further back on the table, I might not have realized at all. Going back to my initial point, the man was an idiot. He was so scared that he nearly incriminated himself in an attempt to avoid trouble. He probably saw it on TV or something."

"Well, then I will trust your judgement." She nods in agreement. "His motive was weak at best. He and Mrs. Harmond did not get along, and as such, neither did Mr. Harmond. That hardly seems like motive for murder." She drags her pen across her notes twice, which even from down here I can recognize as a strike-through. "Okay. I think it might be best to wait for the other cops and forensics team to verify Suspect five's confession before discussing him. That leaves Suspects two and four. In your own words, I am inclined to believe Mr. Paul was another 'idiot'."

"He's a dumbass rich kid pretending to be a playboy. I checked his records and found he has a history with drugs. Arrested twice for illegal possession, but saved by his father's connections each time. Nothing too crazy, and absolutely nothing to do with Virelith." I tell her pulling out my own notebook to make sure I'm not talking out my ass. I read another comment I wrote earlier for her, "He also isn't rich enough to afford enough of the plant to do anything with it. I crunched the numbers, and they didn't add up."

"How much is the difference?" She inquires, preparing to write it down.

"Let's just say he'd need to be twice as rich, if not three times for this to have been a recreational purchase. I doubt even he's dumb enough to spend half his fortune on the off chance he might get a better high." I shake my head, utterly disappointed in the young man and his stupidity. "Anyway, that just leaves Suspect four. Her story about the company and the Moxanen check out. I don't think she's guilty, but I'm not prepared to rule her out just yet."

To my surprise, the giantess shakes her head at me. "No, of all the suspects, she struck me as the most suspicious."

For a moment, her certainty confuses me. Then, I think about which part of Dr. Baird's story seemed off. It doesn't take me long to realize what Claire is implying. I raise a brow, challenging her to elaborate. "And why is that, exactly?" 

The giantess' body language suddenly becomes uncomfortable. Although she hasn't said it outright, we both know what she means. I have no doubt in my mind now. Staring at me intensely, she folds her arms under her chest and decides to say it anyway. I suspect she doesn't like being pressed by me. 

"A Brob being friends with a Lilli? Surely you don't believe that." She scoffs, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What's so difficult to believe?" I ask her, through grit teeth.

"I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but it is highly uncommon. If I may be honest with you, I've personally never had any interest in your kind, let alone befriending any." She takes out her hand and makes a gesture, as if pinching something in the air. "What sort of relationship can one have with beings smaller than the space between my fingers? Had this technology not existed, our conversation would not have been possible in the first place."

The more I listen to her, the angrier I get. Don't get me wrong, I've never been interested in her kind either. In fact, the resentment between our races is a lot stronger from our side than theirs, and for good reason. I'm not going to bring up our history, but this issue can be summarized in one word: sizism. The belief that one is superior to another based on their size alone is revolting. She was subtle about it at first, having me believe she might've been different, but now her true feelings are being laid bare. I recall all the ways she's disrespected and mistreated me today, and feel my anger boiling up. 

This was the last straw. 

"Detective, I've been putting up with a lot of crap from you today. It's no secret that neither of us wanted this partnership, but I am trying to work with you." I raise my voice a little, holding back from actual yelling. "Your comments are not only ignorant, but sizist as well."

Upon hearing me say that, it is as if the floodgates have burst open. Whatever she was holding back begins to flow out as well. It seems she has been holding back a lot as well. She puts down her pen, her demeanor changing entirely from calm and serious to cold and intense. As much as I hate to admit it, it unnerves me.

"You've tried to work with me? Detective Flint, the very first thing you said to me was that you were in a hurry to get home. Did you forget how you covered your mic so I could not hear you? Or how whenever I question you, you respond rudely and aggressively?" She points out, attacking me right back. "What in the world did you say that was so private?" She scowls, making a valid point.

I hesitate, but decide to tell her. "I needed to ask her if she'd been treated well by you Brobs."

"Right, you did mention how we were keeping your people 'hostage'. A wonderful first impression, Detective. More importantly, you cannot deny me access to the audio feed of our interrogation." I am about to respond, but she doesn't let me. She unfolds her arms and moves a hand toward me, finger outstretched in an accusatory manner, huge and imposing. It's incredibly close, not to mention bigger than a football field, and hovering within an arm's reach. "You are the one making this investigation more difficult than it needs to be."

I try to slap her finger out of the way, but it doesn't budge. I'd have more luck trying to move an apartment complex. Instead, I move to the side, trying to get out of the way of her finger in case she does the unthinkable in her anger. In turn, I point a finger back. "If you want to list all the things I've done to irritate you, then surely you won't mind when I do the same. Since this morning you've limited my access to the forensic lab, refused to let me defend myself when Chief Perry insulted me, almost crushed me during the interrogation, and even tossed me into your pocket like an object!"

The giantess glares at me, a fire burning in her eyes. "Whatever you claim I have done to you today out of malice was for your own good. The only point I will acknowledge is nearly crushing you, though, I can hardly be blamed for that when you are so pathetically small."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing." I glare back at her, furiously. "Have you no respect for a peer?"

"Hah! A peer? You honestly see yourself as my peer?" She laughs, making an amused face. "You are a Lilli. No matter how much experience you have, how many cases you've solved, you will never be my equal. You and I are not the same."

She leans back in her seat, folding her arms once more. She seems satisfied with her response, thinking she's put me in my place. I am so incredibly angry with this woman, to the point where I can hardly think. I take a deep breath to calm myself, not letting her rile me up.

"Believe what you want, but my accomplishments speak for themselves. You know very well how capable I am. You read my file, and I read yours. You're right, we aren't the same." I fire back, using her own words against her.

I notice her eye twitch, her composed demeanor breaking. "You egregious speck."

Upon hearing that word, I feel I am about to lose my temper. I step forward, angrier than I've been in years, and challenge her. "I thought we agreed not to use that word, Detective?"

Leaning in very close, until her lips dominate my entire view, she whispers that word again, but I hear her loud and clear. "Speck."

A deafening silence falls upon us in the office. I have no words for her, nor does she for me. I had hoped to complete this investigation in spite of her, but it seems that will not be possible. At least, not while we are working so closely. Neither of us can give up the case, but that doesn't mean we can't work separately. Pulling out my phone, I text my liaison and explain the situation to him. All the while, Detective Claire moves away, sitting back up in her seat, and waiting for me to respond.

"You have nothing to say to me?" She asks, her tone noticeably less angry, but with the same bite.

"What more is there to say? I told you that if you called me that again, this partnership would be over." I explain, receiving a confirmation from him that the appropriate arrangements will be made. I pocket my phone and look up at her, my relief at being free of her overshadowing my anger. "I have a case to solve, and I will do that without you. Once this is over, this 'speck' will be out of your hair for good."

A knock is heard at the door, before a younger female officer opens it, peeking her head inside. "Pardon me, Detectives. I'm sorry to interrupt."

"No problem, Officer. Come on in." I say, switching my earpiece so that it links to hers as well. "I'm heading into the carrier on the Detective's desk. Please take me to the forensics lab when you're ready."

"What do you think you're doing, Linda?" Claire snaps at her. "I didn't approve this."

"Chief Perry just did." The other giantess says as she collects me in her hand, carefully lifting me up. It's leagues better than how Claire did it, that's for sure. It makes me wonder if she's dealt with Lillis before. "Detective Flint made the request, and I volunteered."

Detective Claire goes silent, gesturing for us to leave. It appears she's had enough of me, and likely lost all respect for her coworker. It's fine, though. Now we can each do our thing separately, just like we wanted. Officer Linda carries me through the precinct, down to the lab, where we find Katie still there, hard at work. As we enter, she comes up to us with the same upbeat, friendly demeanor that totally does not suit someone who works with corpses for a living. 

"Welcome back, Detective, and hello, Linda!" She greets us. "I've been hard at work running those tests you requested. It appears that all of the information from Mr. Collins' confession was more or less true."

"More or less?" I ask, which Linda then repeats for me since Katie lacks an earpiece.

"Umm, yes. The dosage of Virelith was slightly off, but the difference was negligible. We also verified the injection site on his finger." She explains, walking us over to the body.

"Would you like a closer look, Detective?" Linda offers, lowering the carrier to the table, inviting me to step out. Normally, I'd be reluctant to go out in the open, and I don't like getting up close with the bodies of victims, but I feel I should take a look with my own eyes.

"Sure." I say, opening the hatch and stepping out. Immediately, I notice how cold the room is. Then, I notice the smell. "Let's make this quick..."

I see that she set me down very close to his hand, which is convenient. Approaching it, I see that there is a noticeable redness on the pad of the index finger. I get even closer, squinting my eyes to see where Lilli-scale hypodermic needles were clearly used. It's so very tiny, even on our scale, that there is no way the Brobs would have noticed on their own. I sigh, unhappy that the evidence continues to point at Mr. Collins. I still don't buy it! Something is off here, but I can't put my finger on it. No pun intended...

Turning away from the body, I gaze out into the open room. I close my eyes and focus my mind, running through the evidence all over again. As unbelievable as this story is, it only continues to make sense. Choosing not to reject the narrative, I reevaluate the case assuming it was one hundred percent true. The next big puzzle piece is Mr. Collins' motive. I was going to press him until that Chief of theirs burst in and took him away. Murdering the CEO of a company you hold a significant share in is illogical. There is nothing to gain. So, why would he do it? The man became a suspect because he stood to gain more control of the board if Mr. Harmond was out of the picture. In the event that came to pass, it would be counterproductive to confess. It felt as if he wanted us to know that he did it. He wanted to remove any doubt. He even knew the consequences of doing so.

"What is he hiding?" I mutter, pacing around on the metal table as I think. "What was his true motive...?!"

My office has always been a place for focus and reflection. It's where I go to disconnect from everything else and throw myself into a case. This has been my routine for years, and I've never once struggled to get into the zone. As my eyes reread the same note for the fourth time in a row, I realize I'm hopelessly distracted. I drop my pen and pinch the bridge of my nose, accepting that no work is going to get done until I address how I'm feeling.

"This is ridiculous. He was the problem, not me." I say aloud, hoping it's more believable that way. I try to focus on all the things he did, but I cannot just ignore his claims. He was right to call me out for mistreating him. I've been taking out my frustrations on him in retaliation. I shouldn't have done that, but neither should he have been so aggressive! I did not want to start an argument--we were getting along nicely while we discussed the suspects. It was when he called me ignorant and a sizist that I snapped. "I'm not a sizist, I was simply stating facts..." I try, failing to convince even myself. "Who am I kidding? I called him a speck. He never once insulted me back."

While Detective Flint certainly isn't innocent, I realize neither am I. It became clear to me when he went silent, and I really thought about what I'd said. I might have even taken it back, if the conversation had gone on a little longer. When I make a mistake, I am quick to rectify it. That's the right thing to do; it's justice. My mind drifts back to our interview when I nearly crushed the Detective on accident. Instead of apologizing for that like I'd meant to, I actually put the blame on him! It must have been terrifying for him. He only brought it up when we started arguing, meaning he was probably planning to let it go. If I were in his place, I'm not sure I'd do the same.

"When did I start to consider how a Lilli feels?" I mutter quietly, frowning as I stare blankly at my notebook. "That is something a sizist would say... Perhaps I could stand to be more compassionate?"

Following that train of thought, I recall how Flint's size allowed him to measure the suspect's pulse from a distance. To be honest, it really impressed me. I try to imagine what it is like, being so tiny in a world so big. Then, I get an idea. Maybe I should approach this investigation from a different angle? Rather, a different perspective. Mr. Collins' claims seemed so outlandish to me, but that's because I simply cannot accept that a Lilli killed one of our own. We are strong, but not invincible. If I can let go of that notion, maybe I can figure this out?

"Okay. Assuming the killer's confession is the truth, we are still missing a proper motive. If I were a Lilli investor in a company that produces a drug that is essential for my people, what reason would there be to kill the CEO? I need to think like a Lilli..."

I leave my chair and begin to pace back and forth the small room.

"Mengy's syndrome is a much bigger problem for them than us. It affects one in ten over there whereas it's one in fifty over here. Thankfully, the active ingredient in Moxanen is native to our land, and we have an abundance of it. When only a single company wants to export this life-saving medication to your country, you'd think that it would be appreciated."

I stop in my place, remembering what Mr. Paul had said. There was something about Mr. Harmond making a decision that upset his investors. The most likely reason for that would have to be a decision that would lose them money. I can't imagine anything else, apart from someone being fired or cheated. Statements from his employees insist that he was a hardworking and fair man. I have no reason to believe he would have cheated anyone, and there are no records of major changes to the structure of the company.

"Harmony Pharmaceuticals is based in New Brobdingnag, which was Lilli territory, long ago. There is great resentment toward the Brobs that live here because of that." I think aloud, trying to tie that fact to something else in the hope of finding something solid. "On the other hand, Brobs don't like Lillis. We only deal with them when we have to, or when there is something to gain. Charging a dependent people exorbitant amounts of money for medicine they need is definitely falls under the latter. It's highly immoral, but not illegal. Were HP not here, the Lillis would be out of luck."

I think about all the kind things Dr. Baird said about Mr. Harmond. Her story holds up, even if some Lillis might see him as simply taking advantage of them. Again, I find myself wondering what he could have done to upset his investors, and if that played any part in why Mr. Collins killed him. I suppose there is only one person who might know, and I might be too late to talk to her at this stage.

Rushing out of my office, I head to the booking room as fast as possible. I approach the counter, frantic and out of breath. The officer looks at me as though I've startled him. "Raymond, has Mrs. Harmond been processed yet?"

"Yes, she has. She was just released." He tells me, pointing to the door.

Without a word, I spin around and run out the door, leaving the precinct. I look around frantically, until I locate the woman getting into her car.

"Mrs. Harmond! I need to speak with you!" I call to her, as I run down the stairs and over to her. As I approach, a smartly-dressed man with a briefcase stands in the way to block me.

"I'm sorry, Officer, but Mrs. Harmond will not be answering any more questions." He tells me, his arm physically obstructing me.

"Mrs. Harmond, I know that your questioning is over, but this is important." I try to see her over the man's shoulder, but he continues to block me. "It might bring the true killer to justice!"

"Let her speak, Kareem." The older woman says, prompting the lawyer to step aside. He looks very upset, but complies. He opens his mouth to advise her, but she raises a finger to shush him, and he remains quiet. "Will this truly help your investigation?"

"Yes. I am certain of it." I tell her, grateful that she is being cooperative.

"Very well." She nods.

"Your husband was always kind to Lillis. I'm told he made a decision recently that upset your investors. Could you please tell me more about that, assuming it's true?"

The woman goes quiet, recalling the events of what happened. It looks as if something has clicked in her head, before she speaks. "Robert had received a letter from a Lilli mother who relies on our medicine to treat her daughter. Sparing you the details, it had a profound effect on him. So much that he planned to cut the cost of Moxanen in Lilliputia significantly, in spite of the loss we would incur. You are right about the investors becoming angry, but how did you know-"

"That's enough, Mrs. Harmond." The lawyer stops her before she can say any more. "You have helped the Detective with far more than you needed to. If that is all, we will be going now." He tells me, shutting the door to the car and knocking on the window to tell the driver to get going. He eyes me carefully before walking away without another word.

Being on such a time crunch, I cannot afford to dwell on the rudeness of lawyers. I head back inside, making my way past the booking desk. Officer Raymond sees me and asks, "Did you get what you needed?"

I cast a smile his way as I pass, answering, "Yes. Yes, I did."

I'm grateful I was both able to catch Mrs. Harmond in time, and that she was willing to cooperate. This new information confirms Mr. Paul's story and provides me more to work with. Mr. Collins is not a board member, but his file mentioned that he is very close with a Mr. Fabian, a member of the board as well as an investor. Maybe he told him about the upcoming change, which motivated him to take out the CEO before he could do that? If so, there is a chance he was involved. This picture is slowly becoming clear, but I need more information. That, or I need to bounce my ideas off someone else.

"It might be time to see Detective Flint." I grimace, dreading our next interaction. This will seem like I am crawling back because I need his help, which it isn't. I wouldn't need his help if I simply had more time! Swallowing my pride, I resolve myself to put justice first and myself second. "He's likely still in the Forensics lab with Linda."

I change course and head over there. As I put my hand on the door handle, I hear Flint's voice in my ear. Apparently, he never took me off his frequency, and I never bothered to turn off my earpiece. I stop and listen carefully, my eyes widening in shock as I listen.

"Let go of me! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Flint yells, groaning in pain. Through the window, I can partially see into the room. Katie is nowhere to be found. If I didn't know better, I'd assume Linda was in there alone. She doesn't say a word, but I watch her turn and walk toward the sink, pinching in her hand something far too tiny to make out as she walks over. "O-Officer, please...!" He pleads, his voice becoming weak.

I spring into action, bursting into the room and drawing my gun. I aim it squarely at Officer Linda and yell, "Freeze! Officer, I don't know what you think you're doing, but it stops now!" Officer Linda does a half turn, freezing up the moment she sees my weapon trained on her. She looks terrified, which only increases as I slowly step closer. My eyes land on her right hand, in which is undoubtedly the Detective. Keeping my weapon aimed and gaze locked on her, I nod in the direction of a nearby table. "Put the Detective down on that table. Slowly."

The officer hesitates, and I see her glance at the sink, probably estimating whether she can carry out whatever she is planning before I can pull the trigger. Before she can do anything stupid, I yell, "Now, Linda! I'm not asking!"

"Okay! Here, he's still alive." She says as she puts him down and takes a step back.

I can't afford to get too close to check on him, seeing as the Officer now has both hands free and her own firearm is within reach. I hear him coughing, like he's just had the wind knocked out of him. Turning my attention to Linda, I proceed with my arrest.

"On the floor, hands behind your back. If you even think of going for your weapon, I'll shoot. At this distance, I certainly won't miss." I order her, which she quietly obeys. I see tears in her eyes as she gets down on her knees and lowers onto her front. Her hands go behind her back and she doesn't do anything rash, thankfully. Moving behind her, I pull out a pair of cuffs and put them on her wrist. "Officer Linda, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Detective Flint." I declare as I drag her up onto her feet. 

A moment later, Katie bursts in the room accompanied by two officers who must have heard my yelling.

"What is going on here? Linda?!" Katie asks, the three of them rushing over to my side.

"Officers, please take Officer Linda into custody. I'm going to need to question her." I tell them, which they follow up with a 'yes ma'am', before taking her away. Turning to Katie, I give her a disapproving glance. Had she been here, this would not have happened. "Where were you?"

"The Detective asked me to go get you, so I left him in Linda's care." She insists, before rushing over to the table where he was left. She crouches down next to it so that she's at eye level and takes a good look at him. The concern in her voice seems genuine. "Detective! Are you alright?"

"I've been better..." He groans, the pain audible in his voice. I step closer, but don't lean in close. I can't bring myself to do so. He continues, immediately confirming her words to me, "Katie is telling the truth. I did ask her to do that. What I didn't expect was for Officer Linda to try to kill me as soon as we were alone!"

"Explain what happened. Tell me everything." I say, not as an order, but out of anger. I can't believe one of our own just did that. I'm absolutely appalled, and sadly ashamed.

"Not here." He pants, his breathing ragged.

"I understand. Can you walk?" I ask him, having stepped away to grab the carrier and come back. I set it down near him, using a finger to inch it even closer. He makes his way inside and I pick it up. I very nearly toss it in my pocket again, but this time I remember to keep it in my hands. I would latch it to my ear, if I didn't plan to talk to him face-to-face when we get there. I then leave for my office, getting us there in no time, and I place the accessory on my desk to let him out. Now that we have some privacy, I lean over, hands on my knees, and try to get as good a look at him as I can. He seems to be roughed up, but uninjured. I can see him moving all his limbs fine, but he is holding the side of his chest tightly like he broke a rib. "We're in total privacy now. No one else is listening."

He takes a moment to compose himself before speaking. It seems to me he's trying to downplay his pain, but I don't comment on it. He can be a tough guy if he wants to, so long as his injuries aren't actually serious.

"I got out of the carrier to take a look at the body, which I now realize was because she suggested it. She must have wanted me out in the open, because smashing the carrier would be too obvious." He grumbles something quietly before continuing. "I was thinking aloud like I usually do, and then I make a breakthrough. That's when she suddenly snatched me up without a word. She held me in her fingers, crushing me so I'd shut up." He explains, trying to ignore the pain. His breathing is strained, giving credence to my broken ribs suspicion. "It happened so suddenly. She was going to toss me in the sink and turn on the water. Everything she did... It was obviously to avoid leaving any traces."

"There was no way she would get away with it. I'd personally see her locked up if she'd gone through with it." I assure him. I will not tolerate corruption in my city, let alone in my precinct. "You mentioned saying something that prompted her attack?"

Flint goes quiet for a few seconds, but ultimately decides to respond. It seems he is choosing to trust me, even after just being attacked by a dirty cop. For all my flaws, he seems to recognize the difference between her and I.

"I was thinking about what Mr. Collins said about 'trusting the legal system'. That's when I realized that a crime like this can't be tried in a Brob court. He'll be sent back to Lilliputia." He explains, and I do my best to follow. Unlike him, I'm only familiar with our own legal system. "I felt like I was so close to piecing it all together, when suddenly... I thought that was it for me."

"Thankfully, the worst didn't come to pass." I breath a sigh of relief, standing up straight again. I brush my hair back, putting some stray hairs back in place. "She should be in the interview room now, so-"

"Thank you, Detective." Flint says, causing me to suddenly lose my voice. It's so sincere and kind that I can hardly believe he said it. I shut up and let his words echo in my head, losing all interest in what I was about to say. I must be staring at him like an idiot, because he suddenly returns to his usual self. "Quit staring, already."

I blink twice before regaining my focus. My expression softens, and rather than say something sweet, I do him a favor and avoid the emotional moment altogether with a simple, "You're welcome, Detective."

He seems to appreciate it, as he slowly walks back into the carrier so I can take him with me. I wasn't sure if he wanted to come along to confront Linda, but his intentions come across loud and clear. Once inside, I put it back on my ear and exit my office. Several officers try to talk to me as I walk past them, but I pay them no mind. Getting to the interview room is all I can think about. I have several burning questions that need answering.

Entering the interview room, I find the officers have already brought Officer Linda and cuffed her to the table. I give them an approving glance and gesture for them to leave so that I can begin questioning. Entering the room, I take my seat across from her, just like we did with all the suspects. This time, however, I keep Flint safely in my earring. He cannot be allowed out in the open this time, obviously. 

I watch Linda carefully, making note of her wet cheeks and puffy eyes from crying, and I am overcome with a feeling of intense disappointment. How dare she cry after what she nearly did? Her and I are not close, but we have worked together for some time. She was always a good officer, diligent and eager. I respected her for following protocol and always being helpful. Never in my wildest dreams would I have suspected her to be dirty.

"Internal Affairs is going to be handling this going forward." I tell her, my tone devoid of any compassion. Then, I allow myself to relax a little. "But, I'm going to give you a chance to explain yourself. I know you, Linda, you're not a killer. What in the world came over you?"

She stares at me, a pained expression on her face. It seems she is grappling with several emotions at once. She takes a moment to compose herself and then begins, "Detective, I swear I didn't want to do it. I... I was forced to."

"You're saying you were coerced?" I press her, hoping for a name.

"It's too late now. I'm done for." She begins to cry again, but manages to hold herself together. "He told me to keep an eye on the Lilli Detective, and to get rid of him without a trace if he figured anything out." She sniffles, dropping her head in shame. "I'm so sorry, Detective."

"Give me a name, and maybe you can help your case. If this is related to the HP case, then you could receive leniency." I encourage her, though it seems she does not care. 

Her attitude causes Flint to realize something. He speaks to me, through my earpiece, ensuring that Linda's is no longer connected. "She was probably told that killing a Lilli would result in leniency either way."

He makes a valid point. I hadn't considered that, and it makes perfect sense. Leaning forward, I slam my hands on the table and put as much pressure on her as I possibly can. "If you believe for a moment that the murder of a Lilli will be taken lightly, you are sadly mistaken. Detective Flint is one of Lilliputia's greatest minds, and his death would not be met quietly." I say, noticing her becoming visibly scared. I double down, practically boring into her with my words, slowly rising to stand while keeping my hands firmly on the table. "I will personally see to it that you have no future as an officer of the law, if you don't give me a name. Tell me, Linda!"

The woman is practically shaking now, shrinking in her seat in fear of me. Despite all that, she refuses to provide a name. She keeps her mouth shut, even under such intense pressure, but cannot hold back her sobbing. I step away from the table, preparing to leave the room, when suddenly, she speaks. 

"Tell Detective Flint that...he was on the right track."

I give her one final glance, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind me. I pass the officers from IA as I am making my way down the hall back to my office. All the while, Flint remains quiet. It suddenly occurs to me that he hasn't said hardly anything in a while. Then, I remember that we aren't even working together anymore.

Entering my office, I set the earring down on my desk and take a seat. Soon after, he steps out, but still doesn't say a word. He's so still that I wonder if he is alright. It's difficult to tell, until I pull out a small magnifying glass from my drawer, inspecting him more closely. He seems to be in less pain now, moving more freely. I can now see clearly that he is trying hard not to meet my gaze, likely still angry with me. He must be waiting for me to find him another officer to take him around, hopefully one that's not homicidal. A couple of good cops come to mind, and I pull out my phone to dial one of them to come collect him.

"Don't do that. Let's just...talk." He asks me, his tone soft and slightly vulnerable, to which I slowly pocket my phone and give him my attention.

"Alright." Is all I say, as I wait for him to continue. I bring my hands to rest on the table, interlacing my fingers comfortably as I await his next words.

"I'm not going to sit here and justify my actions. I shouldn't have been so rude to you from the get-go. For that, I'm...sorry." He says, struggling at the end of his sentence.

I hadn't expected him to apologize. In fact, I was mentally preparing for another argument. Where is the 'Brobs are evil, I almost got killed by one' line that I was dreading? In the last hour, I have received both a 'thank you' and a sincere apology. This can't be the same Detective Flint! Then again, I haven't known him for long enough to know anything for certain. Did I misjudge him so severely? No, he must have hit his head or something! Jokes aside, his apology goes a long way in my book. Not many men apologize, least of all to a woman, and even more rarely when you reach our age.

"I accept your apology, Detective. It takes a big man to apologize like that." I crack a smile, sensing there is a joke to be made here, but recognizing that is not the time. Putting aside my pride as a Brob, I decide to follow suit. "I am also...sorry. I should not have treated you so poorly, nor called you a 'speck'." I hesitate at the end, worrying the mere mention of the word, even in this context, might be offensive despite no longer being my intention.

"I'm glad we could clear the air." He says, his tone slowly returning to normal. He clears his throat before continuing. "My name is Detective Flint Harris, and I've been sent here to solve a mystery because I'm the best at what I do. I look forward to working with you, Detective." His tone isn't friendly, just formal. It's exactly how it should have been up on the roof. To complete the gesture, he extends a hand.

I can't help but smile at that comment, and his attempt at starting fresh. Keeping the magnifying glass in my left hand, I slowly and carefully move my right closer to him, extending my index finger until it is so close that I can feel him touch it.

"My name is Detective Claire Bennett, and I've been tasked with solving this mystery because I am also the best at what I do." I match his level of formality, challenging him with the same declaration. "I know that together we'll bring justice, Detective."

"You know, there can only be one 'best', right?" He suddenly becomes much more casual. "That is the definition of the word." 

"In Lilliputia, perhaps, but this is New Brobdingnag. You'll have to settle for best duo, because I am not giving up my title." I answer, gently pulling my hand away.

"I guess that's fair." He concedes, throwing his hands up. The tiny man looks up at me with a look of determination and renewed vigor. It's not the look I'd expect to see from someone who has had such a terrible day. I'm beginning to suspect he does this for the thrills. He pulls out his notebook and shows it to me, which I obviously cannot read. "I've learned some interesting facts. Care to hear them?"

"You have my undivided attention, Detective." The giantess nods at me, putting the magnifying glass away. She adjusts her posture and pulls out her notebook to follow along with me. She wears a different expression now. Though her gaze is still censorious as ever, it lacks the displeasure. Calling it friendly is a stretch, but it's more...welcoming, I suppose. She clicks her pen and nods at me to hurry it up, "I also have quite a lot to share with you."

Best not to keep her waiting.

"I haven't quite cracked this case yet, but I'm several steps closer now." I explain, referring to my notes. I begin to list what I've learned so far. "I've managed to confirm both the cause of death and Collins' story. This was definitely carried out by a Lilli, and I'm certain it was him. I pulled his fingerprints from the victim's finger. Everything matched up down to the tiniest detail." I take along breath before I tell her the next part. "I realized this when we were interrogating Officer Linda. The laws of this country don't allow Lillis to be tried or convicted in your courts. In the event of an arrest with just cause, they must be sent home and tried there. Brobs can't enter Lilliputia, for obvious reasons, and Gullis have their whole 'neutral zone' thing going on." I pause to allow her to finish writing before moving to my most important point. "I am confident that Mr. Collins believes his confession will result in being sent away, only to receive a very lenient trial. Given the widespread resentment of Brobs, some might even call him a hero. I think he would be sentenced to a few months at best, probably in a very luxurious cell."

Detective Claire seems very bothered by that, but she doesn't comment. "Hmm."

"Do you disagree?" I ask her, wondering why she's become so quiet. 

"No. I think you're right. That aligns with what Linda said. There are at least three people involved in this murder. Herself, an unnamed person who coerced her, and the killer, Mr. Collins. It makes sense that they both acted on that same fact." She goes quiet while her eyes scan her notes. She flips the page back and does the same. "Leave it to criminals to use the legal system against us. Good work, Detective. We're that much closer to piecing together the puzzle, thanks to you."

"Ehh, don't thank me yet. Even after figuring that out, I'm still completely lost when it comes to the motive. I couldn't get anywhere with that." I sigh, feeling deflated.

"You're in luck. I may have the answer you're looking for." She tells me, and I swear I can see the smugness on her face even from down here. She turns her notepad to face me and points with her pen. "I managed to catch Mrs. Harmond just before she left, and she gave me some vital information. It turns out that Mr. Harmond was planning to slash the cost of Moxanen in Lilliputia, even though it would lose him a fortune. I suspect the third person involved in this was a member of the board, Mr. Fabian. Collins' file mentions he is close with him."

"I remember that name, I think? Sounds familiar." I check my notes, though I don't find his name anywhere. I must not have written it down. "Do we have anything on him?"

"Nothing at all. He's as clean as can be. Well, as clean as a billionaire can realistically be." She shrugs her shoulders. "In terms of the means, he certainly has the money. He could have paid Mr. Collins handsomely. Linda too, who I know was struggling for money."

"I don't know if money alone is enough of a reason to pin everything on this guy." I tell her, feeling skeptical about her idea. "I feel like we should bring the guy in and interrogate him. That'll give us more to work with."

"We will certainly do that, but first, please indulge me. Putting together all of your findings and mine, I believe I might have the full story. Allow me to explain, but don't hesitate to interject." She says, which surprises me. 

Having not come up with a cohesive narrative yet, I'll be impressed if she did. I'm interested to hear what that gigantic head of hers came up with. I listen carefully as she clears her throat and begins, "Mr. Harmond plans to cut the cost of Moxanen which upsets Mr. Fabian, who stands to lose millions. Unable to convince the man, he decides to get rid of him before he can go through with his idea. He somehow convinces another investor, Mr. Collins, a Lilli who also stands to lose a lot, to carry out the murder. Convinced they can both maximize their profits while suffering minimal consequences, they proceed with their plan. Fabian provides the Lilli-sourced Virelith, pays for it to be processed and weaponized, and provides Collins with all he needs to get it done. Collins commits the murder, resulting in the death of Mr. Harmond and promptly claims responsibility for it. Providing such detailed information in his confession confirms to the Chief that it was him, resulting in his deportation and trial in Lilliputia. In case you get too close to the truth, Officer Linda is tasked with keeping an eye on you, and disposing of you if need be. Mrs. Harmond, who was against the decision to begin with, would rise to CEO and keep things as they are."

I stare at the Detective in surprise. What a remarkable ability to piece together all the information into such a convincing timeline. To her credit, I'm not sure I could have done it better myself. It's solid detective work. I shake my head, realizing I'd gone totally silent.

"Your story makes sense to me. There are some small assumptions that need a once-over, but I'm willing to bet my name on this." I tell her, rapidly updating my notes with this new information. "This makes Collins' not only a killer, but a goddamn traitor to his people. Back home, he'll be celebrated for killing a rich, old Brob. If only they knew the truth..." I scowl, knowing full well that information will never go public. "I'm going to enjoy tearing into his partner."

"Me too. I won't let him play us all for fools." Claire declares, rising from her seat. She puts her notebook away and adjusts her clothes after sitting for so long. By the time she reaches for the carrier, I'm already seated inside. I'm brought up at settled on her ear, and she pulls out her phone to dial someone. Putting it on the same ear, I can hear the conversation fairly well. "Hello, Sergeant. We've got a lead in the investigation. Hold off on charging Mr. Collins, we have reason to believe he wasn't working alone."

"What makes you think that?" A man with a deep voice answers back.

"New information has come to light. Particularly, the victim's wife's testimony." She tells him, sparing the other details for the sake of time. He must have a lot of trust in her if she can get away with that level of vagueness. I know my Sergeant would never.

"I see. Well, you'll need to act fast. Chief Perry is moving things along pretty quickly." He lets out a tired sigh right into the mic, causing some static. "Who is this person, exactly?" 

"Fabian Reyes. He's a member of the board at HP." She waits as he goes to pull up his file. I hear the sound of typing on a keyboard. "Yes, he was at the gala, too. He was questioned at the scene, but determined not to be a suspect. What do you plan to do?"

"I'm going to pay Mr. Fabian a visit at his home. Without a warrant, I'm afraid I can't do much." She replies, huffing in frustration. "Any chance you can get me a warrant within the hour?"

"Dream on, Detective. Go ahead, but keep me in the loop. Meanwhile, I'll try to buy you some time." He says, the sound of typing resuming once more. There is a pause, where it sounds like he's going to say something, but doesn't.

"Thank you, sir." She says before hanging up. She pockets her phone and shakes her head a little. "He always forgets to hang up."

The Detective and I leave the precinct and head to the parking lot. She walks over to a dark blue sedan which automatically unlocks when she steps close. It's good thinking to take her personal car, as a cop car might be too obvious. The last thing we need is for our suspect to see us and flee. She get in, starts the engine, and quick makes here way over to his address. 

On the way there, we are both relatively quiet. She is focused on the road while I am simply observing my surroundings. As much as I try to get used to being in New Brobdingnag, it's not an easy adjustment. Everything is familiar, yet alien. I recognize most things, but they just seem wrong. For example, this relatively small car is absolutely massive. Everything I see outside the window is blurry, and what I do recognize is impossibly large. My eyes can hardly follow. 

"This must all be so strange to you." Claire speaks, snapping me out of my daydream. "Being in our world."

"You're awfully perceptive. How did you know I was thinking about that?" I ask, curiously. I try to look at her face, but my position makes that impossible. The most I can make out is her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

"I've been thinking about how Lillis see things. You opened my eyes to that earlier when you read the suspect's pulse." She says, momentarily lifting a hand from the wheel to mimic how I'd done it before. "It must be very different?"

"There are differences, but it's mostly the same. Just bigger, mostly." I think about what I've seen and continue, "Less technology, but otherwise the same." I pause for a moment, considering how much I want to share with her. She is probably asking because she wants to know how I feel, inviting me to open up a little. Normally, I would never let myself seem vulnerable, but this woman did save my life. Brob or Lilli, that puts me in her debt, and if only to pay it back, I'll satisfy her curiosity. "Between you and me, it's pretty frustrating. I don't like relying on others for everything."

"I can imagine." She nods. "Though, it is okay to rely on others."

Her comment comes across as odd to me. I could have let the conversation end there, but I can't resist saying, "I just work better alone. It's easier when there's no one else to worry about, let alone burden. I figured you were the same?"

She takes a deep breath through her nose, exhaling slowly. "Recently. Until a few years ago, I had a partner." She lifts her hand off the wheel to show me her finger. A gold ring that's lost its luster comfortably sits on her finger. "He...died in the line of duty."

"I'm sorry." I say, my tone softening. I let the irritation go, as I try to be considerate. I can't think of much else to say. Naturally, I am curious about who he was, but I know better than to pry.

She shakes her head. "No, it's fine. I'm the one who brought it up."

We continue to drive for a few minutes, this time in silence. I can't tell whether Claire is upset or simply done chatting. Looking at the display, I see that we are just a few minutes away now. I try to keep myself occupied, but it proves difficult. I have been trying to limit any interactions that don't have relevance to the investigation, but that has made me feel guilty. I can't believe I'm feeling guilty about the way I'm dealing with a Brob. And I can't believe what I'm about to do, either.

"I was married, for a while. Twenty years, which is more than 'a while'..." I begin, starting the conversation back up. "Things didn't work out. After the divorce, I threw myself into work. Turns out I'm really good at this when I'm desperate for a distraction."

The Detective is quiet for a moment, thinking about something. Her mouth opens to speak, but the words take a second to find their way out. "I wish I could disagree with you, Detective. Perhaps we're more alike than I'd thought."

I think deeply about that for the rest of the ride.

The Detective enters the compound, briefly speaking with their security before letting her in. She continues until she pulls up at the address and steps outside. Up ahead is a huge villa that looks like it costs an absurd amount of money. She follows the steps up to the door, and we immediately notice that something is wrong. The door is slightly ajar, it's lock destroyed by what appears to have been gunshots. Through the gap, we see a body of a man on the floor laid on its front. The Detective reaches for her weapon and draws it, assessing the situation before going in.

"I'm calling for backup." I tell her, dialing the precinct. "Can you tell if he's alive?"

"No. I don't see any bullet wounds, either, but there's blood on his clothes. Call EMS while you're at it." She suggests as she slowly pushes the door open.

"What are you doing?! This is dangerous!" I yell at her, but she takes a step inside anyway.

"I need to check if he's alive..." She whispers, before raising her voice to address anyone else who might be in the house. "NBPD! Is anyone else here? Identify yourself!" Her heads turns left and right, weapon is the high-ready, in case she needs to use it. There is no response, nor a sound in the house other than the AC. I have a bad feeling about this, but I can't exactly stop her. Slowly, she approaches the motionless body, standing over it. We do a visual assessment of the body. We can tell the person is breathing, and there is no injury to be found. She maintains a safe distance, addressing this person directly. "Police. I'm here to help. Can you hear me?"

The person doesn't respond.

"Dispatch, this is Detective Flint. We have a victim down with unknown injuries. EMS is needed immediately. House is not yet secured." I communicate with them, receiving confirmation that they have moved and are on their way.

Detective Claire takes a step closer, scanning for a wound large enough to match the amount of blood on the back of his shirt. After keeping her distance so well, she ends up taking another step forward. That is when I notice the man's arm moving. 

"Detective, get back!" I yell, but it is too late.

The man reaches for her leg, with a syringe in hand. She is quick enough to notice, but he still manages to stab her with it, through her trousers. Pressing his thumb to the plunger, primed to inject whatever is in the syringe into her leg. She pulls her leg out of his reach just before he can push it properly, steps backward, and fires two shot into her assailant. The bullets rip into his legs, and the man cries out, before turning on his back and writhing in agony. Now that he is facing us, we can see that he is wearing a mask to conceal his identity. It becomes clear to us that he was not injured at all. This was all an act to lure the Detective close enough for him to strike. Was his plan to strike and then flee the scene?

"What the hell did you inject me with?!" She yells at him, weapon aimed and ready to fire another shot. She glances at her leg, suddenly very nervous. I can tell from the shakiness in her voice, she's terrified. "Tell me!"

The man struggles to form words, but he manages to give her answer, "Same stuff... the old man got... You're finished..." He manages a cruel smile.

I can tell that Claire is about to make a very bad decision. Her finger moves to the trigger and she bares her teeth at him. I have to stop her!

"No! No, Claire!" I yell as loudly as I can. It's so loud that I can hear my own voice coming from the earpiece above me, and she winces. I lower my voice a little, but still yell, "He's not a threat anymore! Shooting him will make you a killer! You need to get to a hospital, immediately! Don't waste any more time here!"

She keeps her weapon aimed, and for a moment, I think she's panicked enough to do it. Then, she removes her finger and lowers her weapon. She takes a few more steps back, toward the door, all the while keeping her eyes on him. I cover the rear, making sure no one else is here in case he had an accomplice. We can't afford to be jumped right now. She makes it to the door, stepping outside to safety. There is no way the man will be able to run now, not while he is in no much pain. It is probably taking all he has just to remain conscious. That is not important, though. Turning my attention to the Detective, my worry grows as she suddenly staggers. The carrier stabilizes the room, even as she loses her balance, falling against the wall for support.

"Detective? What is going on, talking to me." I encourage her. She is becoming dizzy, and her pulse is spiking. This isn't good... "Claire, just focus on me for-"

Suddenly, Claire's legs give out and she collapses to the ground. No amount of stabilization could have saved me from an impact like that. I brace myself, holding on the the nearest seat and tense my entire body. Her body hits the ground in two parts. The first, being where she falls on her butt, and the second where she falls over onto her side. Both are terrible for me. I end up losing my grip and being thrown across the room. I hit my head against the opposite wall, seeing a flash and drawing blood. Once everything is still, I pick myself up and check that I haven't broken anything. The blood from my forehead is from a cut rather than a skull fracture, thankfully. Then, my attention returns to my partner.

"Claire! Claire, say something!" I yell at her, but she just moans in response. I can't tell if she hit her head on the way down, or if this is just the results of whatever is flowing through her system now. 

I am about to contact Dispatch once more, intending to inform them of what's happened, when she finally responds, weakly. "Flint..."

"Yes, I'm here!" I answer, trying to keep her from slipping unconscious. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

She grunts while slowly sitting up, barely managing to rest her back against the wall in a slumped position. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she continues to try to catch her breath. She appears to be sweating quite a lot as well. "I'll...be alright. Virelith doesn't work that quickly. This must be something else...right?" She winces in pain, clutching her chest. 

I'm no expert on toxic plants, but I did do my research once I took on the case. Virelith can act quickly, depending on the dose. In higher does, it can take a lot less time to do its work. Mr. Harmond died a few hours after exposure, but his dose was low by Brob standards. The amount in that syringe was easily enough to drop an adult Brob in minutes. If he'd gotten all of it into her, she'd already be gone. Then again, I'm not even sure that amount of Virelith exists in all of the world. I doubt it was a pure poison. Most likely it was a cocktail of at least one other drug. Something that raises the heart-rate, which could in theory help the Virelith to act faster. I have no way to confirm this, so it's a working theory.

Something about this bothers me. We've all but confirmed Mr. Fabian had a part to play in this. He was so careful in the beginning, orchestrating the 'perfect' crime. Hiring this thug to bait the Detective and then kill her with Virelith doesn't fit his MO. She'd die, then this guy would kill me with no difficulty, before fleeing the scene, all while keeping his face hidden. He's using yet another person to carry out his dirty work, keeping his hands clean. This, however, isn't subtle at all. Killing two detectives in your home? It won't matter how far he distances himself from this. Wherever he goes, he'll be tracked down. For him to have done this, he must have been desperate. He must have known that we were closing in on him. A criminal like him must have a plan of escape.

There is only one place on Earth he could be heading to right now, and I know exactly where that is.

As glad as I am to have cracked this case, I have more pressing matters to attend to. Claire is awfully weak, and seems to be getting worse. EMS won't make it here in time. There isn't anything I can do, either. If only she were a Lilli, I could try something...anything! My first instinct is to get the hell out of this carrier and go check on her leg, at the injection site. Maybe I could squeeze out some of the poison? Unfortunately, her leg is several kilometers away. She'll be dead before I reach her stomach.

While I desperately try to think of a way to help her, she begins to move. She sits up a little, her arm moving to her pocket to retrieve something. With a shaky hand, she pulls out a small bottle of tablets. Popping it open, the brings it to her mouth and swallows two of them. "Depressants." She says, trying to slow her breathing. "Definitely not safe to take alongside a stimulant, but it's preferable to dying. Thank heavens for my severe stress..." She chuckles.

She sits there for a few more minutes, quickly calming down. I don't question her, nor do I say anything that she might feel the need to respond to. She needn't waster her energy with that. To my utter surprise, she eventually gains the strength to stand up. Still wobbly, she takes a step forward, then another, and another, until she is walking normally. She's tough! For the second time today, I'm seriously impressed! She returns to her car and lets out an exhausted groan.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I ask her, the concern in my voice plainly heard.

"As fine as I can be for someone who's going to die in the next few hours." She answers, without much feeling. "It took Mr. Harmond three. Given my dose, I'd say I have an hour, maybe an hour and fifteen, at best."

"Drive yourself to a hospital. There may still be time-" I try, but she cuts me off.

"Don't worry about me, Detective. We've got to catch Mr. Fabian." She starts the engine and the navigation on her display. It plots a route to the airport for us, which should take about twenty minutes. "You've figured something out, haven't you? You were too quiet back there. Tell me where he is."

Against my better judgement, I share that information with her. "He's at New Brobdingnag International Airport. He's probably about to board as we speak."

"Then we need to hurry." She says, inputting the destination before driving off. "I'm not letting him get away, if it's the last thing I do."

My sweaty hands struggle to steady the wheel as I speed down the road. It's been five minutes, and despite Flint doing his best to keep me talking, I'm beginning to lose the fight. I appreciate his effort. Without it, I might've passed out already. I respond to his questions and remarks on autopilot, hardly able to think before the words leave my mouth. At this rate, we're not going to make it. Glancing at my display, I see that we've got fifteen minutes left. If I floor it, we can potentially make it in half that. Reaching beneath the wheel, I flick a switch to engage my sirens. Personal vehicles must obey traffic laws, but this is an emergency, so I don't hesitate to use this.

The sirens appear on the top of the vehicle, blaring loudly with red and blue lights. The engine revs as we pick up speed, running two red lights across two intersections. The other cars clear the way, allowing me to pass without the need to weave between them. I blink my eyes hard, my breathing becoming irregular. I feel as though I've just run a mile, simultaneously exhausted and lightheaded without moving a muscle. This is the effect of whatever drug has been mixed into the cocktail now flowing through my veins. The Virelith itself is an entirely different story. I cannot feel its effects on me, and that is terrifying. I know that it is affecting my heart, but I feel no different apart from its rapid beating. Eventually, it will cause it to stop. It could be in a minute, or in an hour. There is no way to know.

Only now do I realize my hands are trembling. When is the last time that happened? It's been a long time since I've felt fear like this.

"Almost there, Detective. We'll..." I nod off for a split second, but manage to come back. "W-We'll stop him before he boards."

Flint's voice grows even more concerned. He is clearly worried about me, but refuses to argue. He knows I will not consider heading the the hospital, so he does not bring it up. He goes along with my wishes, helping me plan the arrest.

"I've contacted the precinct, but they're still half an hour away They're dragging their feet since Mr. Collins is still considered the true killer. Local law enforcement wasn't listening in the first place. They insist that we lack proper evidence." He complains, with a huff. "Airport security is just as useless. They were willing to share that his private jet is being prepped, but refused to keep it grounded. We're on our own."

I frown, sharing his frustration. From the get-go, this case has been far too rushed. Almost all of our problems stem from our lack of time! My current condition being no exception. It isn't difficult to build a case against a suspect, even someone as careful as Fabian Reyes, and yet it is. Not to mention that Mr. Collins may have already been processed by now. I hope the Sergeant managed to stall for us...

"Fine by me. We can handle this. Two minutes, and we'll be there." I declare, without a shred of doubt. My mind becomes a little less hazy, as if my words are convincing my body not to give in. "We'll head to the Fixed-Base Operator for private aviation services. We'll make the arrest there."

"Alright." Flint agrees, suppressing the worry in his tone. I'd like to think he actually believes we can do it. My false confidence only goes so far.

I arrive at the airport, getting stopped at the separate entrance to speak with security. The man looks at me with concern, probably due to my flushed face, but thankfully not suspicion. I flash them my badge and they let me through without a second question. Following the signage, I drive my car to a mostly empty parking lot, park it, and hurriedly step out. My legs are shakier than before, but I manage to make my way into the terminal. Another brief encounter with security where I show them my badge, and we're inside.

The terminal is smaller and quieter than the ones in the 'main' airport. Lavish and comfortable lounge areas can be seen throughout. There are people walking around, mostly business executives, the ultra wealthy, a few government officials, and of course, the staff. Scanning for out suspect, I do not see anyone who matches his description. Wasting no time, I approach the nearest concierge desk and speak with the woman behind it. 

"Good afternoon." She greets me with an exaggerated smile. "How can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, ma'am. My name is Detective Claire Bennett, NBPD." I discreetly bring out my badge and show it to her. "I'm looking for a suspect in an ongoing investigation. A man by the name 'Fabian Reyes'. He owns a private jet which is currently being prepared for a flight."

The woman gestures for a security officer to come over, and he walks over to join the conversation. She then types something on her computer, likely pulling up their database. Squinting her eyes, she reads through it while silently mouthing the words. Her eyes meet mine, looking somewhat confused.

"That's odd. Mr. Reyes did indeed request his jet be prepared. I see here in the logs, it was done three hours ago." She turns the screen to show us. "However, he has not checked in yet. His jet will be ready to take flight shortly."

"Detective," The security officer speaks to with a look of doubt. "I apologize for asking this, but it's protocol. You do have a warrant for this man's arrest, correct? I believe we received a call earlier regarding this same man. The answer then was no."

I had been dreading this question. Hoping for a miracle, I pull out my phone to check for a notification from the Sergeant. Sadly, there isn't one. We still lack the documents necessary to get the airport security's cooperation.

"Tell him it's on its way!" Flint suggests. "Try to appeal to him."

"The request for an arrest warrant is still being processed. There were delays." I tell him, growing more nervous as his expression remains stone cold. "Officer, this is an ongoing investigation and, should the suspect board his flight, we will never be able to reach him again."

He shakes his head at me. "I'm sorry, but without the arrest warrant, I cannot help you. The arrest would be unlawful."

"You can't be serious-" I begin, stopping myself before I can get too excited. A wave of dizziness overtakes me, and it takes all I have not to crumble to the floor. The two of them notice this and look at me with great worry. I wipe my forehead, removing the sweat that has been accumulating there. Before they can comment, I hold out a hand to silence them. "I'm fine! I'm...fine. If you're not willing to help, then I will look for him myself. I will not allow this murderer to escape justice..."

Turning around, I am about to walk away when Flint asks me to stop. "Detective, hold on. What if Mr. Fabian didn't come here in the first place?"

"He had to. This is the only airport in the country with flights to Gulliveria. Not to mention, his jet is being prepped." I remind him.

"That's not what I mean. What if this was a diversion? He gets his jet prepped but doesn't board it." He explains, and I slowly catch on to what he's thinking.

"He gets us to waste time here while instead waiting to board a flight at one of the other terminals." I think aloud. "He's planning to fly commercial."

"Exactly. Now, before you storm off, let's see if we can get them to help us a little more. Even if they won't assist with the arrest, we can still ask them for information." He encourages me to try again, being patient as he can tell how drained I am feeling.

"Alright, I will." Turning back around, I find the two of them staring at me curiously. They must be wondering who I was speaking to, but I couldn't care less. I look at the concierge and tap my finger on the top of her monitor. "You can stay out of this if you like, but I require information. That, at least, you should be able to provide."

She glances at the security officer, who shrugs dismissively. He doesn't seem to have a problem with it. "Yes, of course. What is it?"

"Terminal two is the one with flights to Gulliveria. When is the next one?" I ask, feeling my pulse quickening again. I need to hurry. Before she can respond, I fire off another question. "And, if yes, has our suspect checked in?"

The woman types away, clicking a few times to pull up the information I need. "Yes, it is Terminal two. The next flight is scheduled to take off in thirty minutes. They began boarding ten minutes ago. And..." She pauses as she pulls up something else. "Yes, a 'Mr. Fabian Reyes' did check in. It says here he is on board."

"Damn it!" Flint yells, slamming his fist into something. "We might be too late! How far away is Terminal two?!"

Without answering him, I look at the security officer and ask, "Can you get me over there quickly? I will need a ride."

"I suppose that can be arranged. Follow me." He begins to walk, and I follow close behind. We exit the terminal through one of their restricted access doors and the officer takes me to an area with small transport vehicles for VIPs. He calls over one of them, its driver lowering his window to speak with him. "Get her to Terminal two ASAP. Skip security, she's NBPD."

The man nods, opening the door for me and starting the engine. I enter the vehicle and soon after, we are off. The man drives quickly, getting us there in less than five minutes. Taking the normal way, it would have been much longer and involved a tram. Once there, we are picked up by another security officer who leads us through another restricted access door and we reach our destination. From there, no one follows us. We are left to carry out the rest of our business on our own. 

"Final call for New Brobdingnag Airlines Flight NB001 to New York. All remaining passengers should proceed to gate 16 immediately." A voice announces over the speaker system.

"We need to hurry." Flint urges me.

"Yes, I know." I answer, breaking into a run. As soon as I begin exerting myself, but chest begins to hurt. My feels likes it's about to explode! My vision becomes blurry, and no amount of blinking seems to bring it back to normal. I make my way over to the gate as fast as humanly possible, cutting in front of the last few passengers waiting to board. I lean on the desk, out of breath and barely able to speak. "I- I-I need..." I try, but my voice fails me. I can't seem to speak at this crucial moment! My legs tremble and I brace myself against the desk. The flight attendants as well as many people in the terminal begin to stare as I make a scene. The flight attendants look very worried for me, one of them calling for emergency services. Try as I may, I can't seem to convey what I need to. I feel that I've reached my limit.

"Ma'am, you are having a heart attack. Hold on, help is on the way." Two of them come around to help support me as I lower to the floor. The man puts my arm over his shoulder, and the woman puts her hands on my back to help me balance. As my consciousness begins to fade, I make a desperate and possibly terrible move. Reaching my free hand to my ear, I unlatch my earring and slip it into the breast pocket of her blazer.

The pain in my chest is incredible, and my eyes close, I manage to speak just one, last word. "...Flint."

-----------------------------------------

"Claire! Claire!" I yell, but she doesn't answer. I can no longer see anything from in here, as the flight attendant's clothing totally obscures my vision. I have no clue what's happened to the Detective, but I remind myself that I have bigger things to worry about. While I hope she will be okay, I prepare myself for the worst.

I'm on my own now, in a world that is far too large and hostile. My involvement in this investigation has not been made public. The only reason I've been taken seriously has been because I'm law enforcement. Now, to pretty much everyone around me who does not know this, I am just a Lilli. Worse, I am a Lilli in New Brobdingnag, which is notorious for the kidnapping, torture, and mass killing of unregistered Lillis. They have a name for people like that here: Remnants.

"This is bad. Did she put me here so that I could proceed with the arrest? How the hell am I supposed to do that while trapped in this woman's pocket?!" I yell, equally angry and scared. "If I'm found by the wrong person, I'm doomed. Can I even communicate with anyone?" Just then, I feel the woman beginning to walk. I hear the distinct sound of plane engines soon, which means she must have boarded. They'll be taking off soon. "The moment they take off, my phone becomes useless. No one I call will be able to get to me in time, either! Gahhhh!" I yell, panic creeping in.

I realize that getting angry or scared will do nothing to fix my situation. Taking several long, deep breaths, I calm myself and try to think of a plan. This arrest means a lot to both Claire and I. If it was her final wish, then I will see it through. She wouldn't have put me here if she didn't think I could do it. As much as I hate to say it, she might have had a little too much confidence in me...

"Okay. One step at a time. First, I need to get out of here. Second, I'll assess my options. Third, I'll-" Just then, my phone gets a notification. I am tempted to ignore it in this stressful moment, but thankfully I pull it out to check. My eyes widen in surprise as I see an attachment from Claire's Sergeant. It's not the arrest warrant, but it is still something good. "Investigative Detention. Yeah, that's enough to get him off the flight! That's perfect for-"

"Hmm? What's this?" The giantess whispers. A moment later, I feel the carrier being yanked. Light floods in as she lifts it up to her face, studying it curiously. I wave at her, trying to get her attention, but she isn't looking close enough. Without another word, she begins to walk over to a drawer, which I realize is a trash disposal. 

I dash to the hatch and push it open, allowing me access to the outside. I can't even guess how high up I am, and I don't want to know. Hesitantly, I jump out, falling through the air as the carrier disappears into the drawer without me. My descent is totally uncontrolled, but I try to guide my fall toward her body. At least that way the fall will be a thousand meters instead of nine thousand. I realize too late that the distance I need to overcome is far greater than any jump could manage. I'm not going to make it. 

Then, the drawer shuts, and a gust of wind hits me from behind, propelling me forward a significant distance. It's a close call, but it's enough to propel me toward the woman's shoulder. Just as I get close, the tailwind that had saved me disappeared, and I begin falling again. I reach my arms out, hoping to catch on any loose fibers of her clothing, when I notice a fallen hair. My hands catch it, holding tightly as it bends slightly in response to my weight. Clambering onto it, I make my way over and onto her shoulder, totally unbeknownst to her. I climb higher, until I reach the top where it's flat and safe. 

"That was too close. Any more of this and I'll be in the same boat as the Detective." I pant, clutching my chest. My heart is beating like crazy. I very nearly died! 

Looking around the plane, I can see tons of passengers either crammed into their seats or putting their luggage into the overhead compartments. The flight attendant begins walking through the aisle, toward the back of the plane. That is when I see him. To my left, sitting comfortably in seat 15D, is Mr. Fabian. The man calmly uses his phone while sipping on a glass of complimentary wine. The giantess continues walking, leaving him behind as she moves further back on the plane. She approaches one of the other flight attendants, whispering something to them, before walking back to the front. 

I am so close to ending this. If only I could tell one of these people that I'm hear, I'd show them the document and the Field Air Marshall and they could help me with detainment. Being near the front, I should be close to them. As I understand, they tend to be near the front of the plane. They wear civilian clothes to maintain their undercover appearance. Thankfully, being the man I am, I can generally spot someone trying to be inconspicuous. Looking around, I spot a man who might just be him. There is a man who just strikes me as law enforcement. I can't quite explain it, but it has to do with how he's sitting, like he's too comfortable on this cramped, noisy flight.

I look up at the giantess who's shoulder I'm on and yell up at her one last time. She doesn't react in the slightest, standing there, smiling like flight attendants do. I desperately need her attention. The final checks will be done any minute now, and then they'll take off. A crazy idea comes to mind, and I don't hesitate to act on it. In a way, it's going to be very cathartic! I draw my weapon and run over to the nearest exposed skin, which happens to be just above her neckline, and just beneath her neck scarf. Aiming for an area that has no major blood vessels, I fire at her again and again. It hardly breaks the skin, drawing almost no blood. The first few shots don't do a thing, but after unloading the entire magazine into a relatively small spot, it begins to swell up sort of like a mosquito bite.

"Mm." The giantess quietly moans, trying to look down at the source of the irritation. She cannot bend her neck enough to locate it, so instead she moves a finger there to probe around the area. She rubs around until she feels the spot, at which point her finger rests there for a moment. I jump at the chance and move to it, climbing onto her fingernail before she can remove it. Her finger then moves higher, and I'm met with her huge eyes as they inspect her finger for blood. Instead, they find me, her pupils narrowing as they focus on someone so small. "What the-"

"I really hope you're one of the nice ones, lady." I pray, fear washing over me.

The woman turns and goes over to one of the other flight attendants. "Maggie, you won't believe what I just found." 

She raises her finger into the other giantess' face, and her expression turns to shock. The other leans in to inspect me closer, her eye filling my view. "How in the world did a Remnant get on a plane? Wait, is it...wearing a blazer?"

"Is it? I couldn't tell." The one holding me says, but doesn't bother to check.

"Where did you find it?" Her friend asks, curiously. It's as if she can hardly believe what she's seeing. Irritating as it is, it's not like I am in any position to complain.

"It was here." She says, pointing slightly below the spot where I shot her, closer to her collarbone. Then, her expression turns to disgust. "Eww! Do you think it was climbing on me? What if it went in my clothes?" She shivers.

The other giantess' expression changes to match her friends, but only for a moment. Something isn't sitting right with her, but she doesn't have the confidence to say it. "I don't know, Pat... Are you going to dispose of it?"

To my horror, the giantess nods, moving to the same trash drawer from earlier. She pulls it open.

"No! I'm not a Remnant, you idiot! Just look closer!" I yell at her, then turn to her friend. "You saw me! You know this isn't right!"

My voice goes totally unheard. Even if this flight was dead silent, they still wouldn't hear me. I'm not audible in the first place, unless I'm literally in their ear. I try to cling to her nail, but it proves difficult. The smooth surface doesn't exactly have anything to hold on to. This becomes even worse as the giantess tilts her finger so that I'll fall off. I scramble to create any friction I can, but my body begins to slip. There is nothing I can do to stop her as the nail goes vertical and I fall.

"Wait." Her friend says, quickly stepping over to intervene. She puts out her finger just below me, catching me on her fingertip. I land on it, and then she brings me to her eye for a closer look. Her eyes then widen in realization. "This isn't a Remnant. He's got a gun, and...I think that's a badge? This is an officer!" She uses her free hand to pull out her phone, bringing it up so I can see it. Giant numbers appear before me, the brightness hurting my eyes at such proximity. "Here's my number. If you have a phone, you can call it." She offers. Not ten seconds later, her phone rings, and she answers, putting it on speaker. "H-Hello?"

"My name is Detective Flint Harris, and I'm working with NBPD to track a man who is suspected of murder." I explain, holding back all of the complaints about my treatment until now. It's not the time or place. "I've been separated from my partner, a Brob, and I need your help contacting the Air Marshall. The man I'm tracking is on board. His name is Fabian Reyes, in seat 15D."

The two of them look at each other in disbelief. The one holding me is more surprised than anything, while the other looks positively mortified. They silently nod and call the Air Marshall over to speak with me. Turns out I was right, he was the exact person I'd thought he was. The man is equally surprised when he sees me, doubting my story. For evidence, I send the giantess both a picture of my badge and the document permitting the suspect's Investigative Detainment. The man nods in agreement and proceeds to contact different people on a walkie. I hear the plane's engines go off, followed by him moving in to confront Mr. Fabian. I watch the entire scene play out from atop the giantess' nail, getting a lot of satisfaction as the suspect loudly swears and complains as he is forcibly removed from the plane.

I could be wrong, but I think he spots me on the way out. His eyes narrow in my direction, as he realizes just who tracked him down. Though he can't hear me right now, I can't resist saying:

"Fabian Reyes, you're under arrest for the conspiracy to murder Mr. Robert Harmond."

When I said that I like to work alone, I meant back home, where everything is the right size and I can walk on my own two feet. Clinging to the fingertip of this Brob woman who very clearly is not accustomed to handling Lillis, I find myself missing Claire. Not her specifically, but someone who won't dangle me kilometers in the air so carelessly! After giving both her and her friend a piece of my mind, I have them retrieve my carrier and a security officer escorts me off the plane and back into the airport. 

I'll spare the details of the next hour, since they were quite boring. Basically, I made contact with the precinct, spoke with Chief Perry, and was driven back there by an officer they trust. She had me on her desk in her office, explaining to her all that transpired. The woman didn't like politely listening, so I got interrupted several times. It didn't help that she'd been so wrong to assume Mr. Collins worked alone. That made her even more defensive. Eventually, I did manage to convey the entire story and all we'd discovered. Hearing the news of what happened to her best detective, she grew very concerned. We agreed that our involvement in the case was no longer necessary and that the interrogation of Mr. Fabian would be carried out by someone else. She offered to make arrangements for a flight home, but I asked her to make it the following day. I was tired, and I felt I couldn't leave without checking on Claire first. I had her make arrangements with their forensic scientist, Katie, one of the only Brobs I trust, to take me there later that afternoon.

"So, you're saying the killer delivered handmade explosives to the victims' homes?" Katie leans forward eagerly in her chair, gaze focused on me as I stand on the small table in front of her. "No way anyone would fall for that!"

"She dressed up like a delivery person. And the packages were always from someone they knew." I explain, taking my time to share the fun, little details. "Hell, she almost got me too. I found a package on my doorstep that was supposedly from my brother."

Since visiting the hospital, I've lost count of how many stories I've shared with Katie. She seems very entertained by my previous cases. It's a good way to pass the time, here in Claire's room. We keep our voices down, or rather, she does, as not to wake her up. Unfortunately, her last comment causes the Detective to stir. In the distance, I see her huge from slowly sit up, groaning and blinking slowly. She looks over at us, trying to make sense of what's going on.

"Detective! I'm glad to see you...well, alive!" Katie smiles, rising and walking over to her.

"Katie? What are you..." She trails off, looking around the room, then down at herself. She seems surprised by the gown she's wearing. "We're in a hospital. I'm...alive?"

"Yes, you are. It was a close call, but the doctors say you'll be alright." She moves in to hug her, and Claire returns it. "They've given you some pain relievers and other drugs to help. Now that you're awake, we can proceed with discharge."

The Detective's eyes suddenly go wide as she remembers something important. She grabs Katie by the arms and asks, "Where's Detective Flint? What happened to him?!"

"R-Relax, he's right here!" She turns, pointing to the table. The Detective lets her go and she walks over to collect me and bring me over. After setting me down on the over-bed table, she takes her earpiece out and hands it to her. "Here, I hope you don't mind me borrowing yours."

The Detective takes it and puts it in her ear. Looking down at me, her expression goes serious. She looks at Katie saying, "Thank you for checking on me, Katie. I'd like to speak with the Detective privately now, if that's alright."

"Of course. I'll be going, then. Let me know if you need anything!" The other giantess says as she sets the carrier down near me. She leaves the room and closes the door behind her. Now, it's just me and the Detective.

"Did we get him?" She asks me, hoping for a good answer. Though, seeing as I'm here, alive and well, I believe she's probably already figured that out.

"We did." I nod, stoic as ever.

"That's good." She says, sighing. "I assume he's been questioned?"

"You're correct. He tried to deny it, but the evidence against him was undeniable. Officer Linda ended up testifying, which was the final nail. Now both him and Collins are under arrest and awaiting trial..." I try to keep a straight face, but find it impossible. The smug smile finds its way onto my face as I tell her, "...in New Brobdingnag. Oh, you should have seen their faces."

"That's perfect." For the first time since meeting her, I see the Detective smile as well. It catches me off guard. 

"Wow, so you can smile?" I jab at her.

"Of course I can. Being around you has just made it difficult." She jabs back, but the smile on her face remains. She studies me carefully, or as well as she can from that distance. "Though, I suppose it's gotten easier. You made the arrest all on your own. That is a big achievement."

"Not quite on my own, but sure. I will gladly take the credit." I shrug, recalling what had happened to me. "I still can't believe you stuffed me in that woman's pocket. She thought I was a Remnant and almost killed me. I barely made it out alive."

"That makes two of us." She laughs, but just for a moment. She looks away, recalling what she went through earlier. With a more serious expression she remarks, "I can't believe I survived." She goes quiet for a time, thinking about something. I give her the chance to process, sympathizing with her. It must have been terrifying. Then, she looks at me with the strangest expression. I've never seen her look at me that way before. "Thank you, Flint."

As I said before, I'm not great with kind words. I try to look away from her, but that gaze simply demands my attention. "Nothing to thank me for, Detective. I was just doing my job, and so were you."

She shakes her head at me, eyes unblinking and oddly intense. "It's because of your warning that I managed to avoid taking a full dose of that poison. I'm no fool, Detective. There's no cure for Virelith. If I'd taken the full dose, I would not be speaking to you right now."

"You're forgetting that Virelith breaks down in warm temperatures. The thug had it on him for who knows how long. It probably broke down on-" I try, but she cuts me off.

"Detective." She says, suddenly, and I stop talking. "You saved my life."

"..." I can think of nothing to say in response.

"And after the attack, when I was panicked and unable to think straight, you talked me out of killing him. You don't know how much I wanted to pull the trigger. I was about to murder an injured criminal who could no longer fight back..." She finally blinks, her eyes becoming watery. She takes a deep breath, composing herself before any tears can fall. "So, thank you, Detective. I'm in your debt."

"Hah, are you saying your Brob pride can accept being in debt to a Lilli, Detective?" I joke, but am wholly unable to lighten the mood in the room. She's serious as ever.

"It does." She declares, causing me to go speechless. She continues, "And please, call me Claire."

I take my time before responding. It isn't clear to me whether this is coming from a sober or heavily drugged Claire, but my gut tells me it's the former. It's very touching, to be honest. After trying so hard to avoid being sincere, I finally relent.

"Sure, Claire. If you want, you can call me Flint." I tell her, bringing her soft smile back. Before I ultimately decide to close off, I take the chance to share some of my thoughts with her. "When I first came here, I was extremely wary of you. I wasn't a fan of your 'evil' kind. Though, after this case, I see that evil comes in all sizes. But, so does good. You, Claire, are definitely good. Your bravery and determination were incredible. The way you pieced together the mystery was brilliant. You've earned my respect."

"As have you, Flint." She offers a finger, bringing it close to me. She's gotten better with estimating distances, as she stops it just before it reaches me, an arm's length away. I can't quite shake it, so I just place my hand on it, like before. "God, you're so small."

"I'd argue you're too big." I answer, giving her finger a solid kick. She feels it, pulling it away and raising a brow at me as if to say, 'are you sure you want to start that?'. Changing the subject, I change the subject back to the case. "You know, after all we've been through, you'd think we'd get an award ceremony, or something. Where is my medal from the Brobdingnagian Queen?"

"No such luck, I'm afraid." She chuckles. "This case won't even make national news. Even if, your involvement would likely be kept secret."

"Eh, maybe that's for the best. I've never liked being in the spotlight, anyway." I sigh, not caring all that much.

"What about the Lilliputian President? I'm sure he will compensate you generously." She suggests, trying to encourage me.

"Him? No, I don't think so. I'd be lucky if I received a thirty-second phone call." I roll my eyes. I check my watch and realize that more time has passed than I'd realized. "Crap, I'm running late. Would you mind getting dressed and taking me to the airport? My flight home's in an hour."

"Oh, so soon? Okay." She pushes the table aside, clearing room for her to bring her legs over the edge and stand up. No longer unsteady, she walks over to the chair, where Katie folder her clothes neatly, and collects them. She enters the bathroom and closes the door behind her. Not five minutes later, she returns, back to her usual self. By then, I am already in the carrier, so she lifts it and latches it on her ear in one, quick motion. "I'll try to get you there on time, but don't expect me to use the police lights this time. You aren't that important."

"So you can smile and make jokes now?" I chuckle. 

"Who ever said I was joking?" She insists, so very tongue in cheek. She makes her way out of the room and down the hall.

"I see. Well, then I'm glad this is the end of our partnership." I sigh deeply, exaggerating my contentment. 

"That is, unless the Lilliputian government faces another potential international incident. Maybe next time I'll be paying you a visit." She points at me, or rather, her ear.

The thought of this smug behemoth walking around my city makes me shudder. That's a hard pass from me. "Let's hope nothing ever happens that's so bad we have to work together again."