When you reached your destination, you had to double check the address. This couldn't be the right place.

The note had lead you to a residential area, as you suspected. However, the streets were more crowded than you had ever seen them, even during markets. You assumed it was due to your proximity to the city center, but the crowds only grew denser. You had to squeeze sideways and duck under arms at points. From what you could make of the angry cries from people, there appeared to be some sort of blockage ahead.

An outstretched foot blocked your path, and you tripped, stumbling right into something solid and metal. You looked up.

Right into the eyes of an Enforcer.

Whoops.

Squeaking an apology, you quickly stepped away and discovered a whole line of Enforcers blocked your path. You weren't sure why, and were about to ask, until you looked up.

On the top floor of the nearest apartment, where there should've been a wall - or. a balcony, perhaps - was a gaping, smoking hole. From your spot on the ground, you could see little of the exposed room. A chalk board covered in a mass of confusion scribbles teetered precariously over the edge along with a shelf whose contents had succumbed to the fall. Scanning the area below, you saw piles of rubble that had yet to be cleared.

So. Maybe this was the right place. But what use did Viktor think you'd have there?

The Enforcer nearest to you was occupied with talking to an enraged citizen demanding to be let past. You took the chance and slipped past, heading straight for the door of the place. Barely two steps later, a hand quickly gripped your arm with so much force you were worried your bones would crack. You didn't need to turn to know who stood behind you.

"No pedestrians," the Enforcer barked, voice muffled by the intricate helmet. "Council's orders."

You looked over your shoulder with all the authority as you could muster (which wasn't much, considering the numbing pain already settling in your arm and the fact you were awkwardly held in place because of it. There'd definitely be a bruise by tomorrow).

"Actually," you said, straightening your spine to stand at your incredibly intimidating height of [your height], "I'm here as per Professor Heimerdinger's assistant's request. I have proof." You attempted to reach unto your pocket for the note, but the Enforcer's grip held strong.

"Yeah, yeah," he mocked dismissively, "and I'm king of the Undercity. Get back there, lab rat."

With a firm push he sent you stumbling back into the crowd. Face burning, you tried - and failed - to ignore the intrigued titters from the onlookers as you pushed pack down the street.

Stupid guard. Stupid note. What were you thinking, waltzing in there like you owned the place? Like you mattered? And in front of all those people, too. Stupid you. Stupid, stupid-

"Y/N!"

Behind you came the familiar clack clack-clack of cane-accompanied footsteps across the tiles.

You turned, and there was Viktor. By now the interaction had turned into a spectacle. People swiftly stepped aside for the man as he strode towards you. He looked seemingly unbothered by the rapt attention, though you noticed he appeared to walk taller, chin held slightly higher.

"Glad to see you made it," he said and beckoned you to follow him.

"Am I still needed?" you asked. Glancing at the watch in your pocket, it read just past five-oh-twelve.

"Of course." He noticed the object you were referring to and chuckled. "Oh, that's slightly too fast. It keeps me on time."

You pocketed it. "Where's the logic in that?"

"Eh, I work faster when I'm running late. Or when I believe I am, anyway."

As the barricade of Enforcers parted swiftly to let the two of you past, you couldn't help adopting an air of smugness. To your surprise, he lead you directly to the cratered building. After holding the door open for you, he clicked into place a series of locks and chains along the frame. Couldn't be too secure, you guessed.

"So, what do you need me for?" you asked once inside.

"Well, after seeing your drawings, I can tell you have a knack for landscapes; cities, buildings, all very realistic. I was thinking you'd be able to draw out some things for future use. Just some rough sketches, nothing too detailed."

"What exactly is it you want me to draw?"

"I assume you've seen the condition the top floor is in."

"Couldn't miss it. What happened?"

Across the small foyer was a set of elevators. One already stood open. Viktor pressed the button for the top. floor, and the doors slid shut with a scraping clank.

"It's a... confidential matter," he said over the whirring and creaking made by the mechanisms. "To summarise, there's been a break-in to a civilian's apartment. No motive, nor culprit has been identified. However, the investigation brought to light some... questionable practises held by the homeowner."

"Questionable?" you echoed. "There won't be blood, will there?"

"No, no," he assured. "Maybe a little in some vials, but nothing gory."

"What is this, some kinda mad scientist's lab?"

The elevator doors opened with a cheerful ding! onto a short corridor.

"Actually, yes."

Rounding the corner, you came to the scene of the event. It would've been a rather normal corridor, were it not for the giant sooty stain on the wall opposite the middle door. The faint outline of a body was imprinted mid-shot, arms up, legs splayed, caught in the explosion. You didn't want to know the power of what could cause something like that.

"Mind your step," Viktor warned as you entered the apartment.

You began to form a reply, but choked on a cough. The air was still dense with dust.

Despite the prestigious neighbourhood it was situated on, the rooms were small - barely bigger than your much cheaper one only a few blocks away. The main room - and the site of the explosion - was coated in a thick layer of debris. The gaping hole in the far wall had already been cornered off, though yoh didn't need glaring red tape to know not to go within a considerable distance of it.

The few intact objects that you could identify puzzled you. What was intended to be a kitchen had been converted into what you could only describe as a... lab. There were books filled with frantic scribbles, left open and pages charred at the edges. Cogs, vials, screwdrivers, an assortment of bizarre instruments lay strewn across the ground. You didn't doubt that they had been like that before the blast.

A couple Enforcers tentatively picked at the mess and sifted through the soot whilst one, a woman with a sharp shock of dark hair, prowled between them, hands clasped neatly behind her back. An officer, you assumed.

From another room came the sound of smashing glass, followed by a loud curse and a poof! Moments later, vivid purple smoke wafted down the hallway. An Enforcer stuck his head around the door and mumbled a quick apology.

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Idiots," he murmured under his breath, and turned to you. "Go and speak to Grayson," he said, pointing to the officer. "She'll fill you in. I need to sort this out before we all get poisoned."

He hurried off towards the What with the room being so small, the head Enforcer - Grayson, Viktor had called her - had heard the whole exchange. She sauntered over to you.

"Our artist, I assume?" she said. Her voice was rough and grating, like footsteps over gravel.

You nodded quickly. "I'm honored to be of assistance," you gushed, unsure if there was a proper way of greeting someone of her status (Should I bow? Salute?).

"I hope it goes without saying that whatever you see here is entirely confidential and should under no circumstances be spoken of outside of this investigation."

"Yes, of course," you hurriedly replied. "I would never."

"Mhm." She sounded unconvinced. "Here. One depiction per page, preferably from each angle with varying heights. Log the date, time, rough level of elevation and compass point in the corner. Once done, there should be a list of contraband that'll need to be logged." She passed you a leather pad and pen, then strode off to confer with one of the Enforcers.

You stood blinking for a moment, trying to process the information she had rapidly given you. Level of elevation?? And where could I get a compass from? Hopefully you'd figure it out.

You started off with the bottom-right corner of the room - the angle best showing the hole. As you pen hovered above the paper, you were unsure where to start. The room was so cluttered and busy, it was hard to pick anywhere certain. The constantly moving Enforcers didn't help, either. You righted a discarded chair to sit on (Is that allowed? you panicked. Have I just disrupted a crime scene?) and, after breathing slowly to calm your shaking hands, began your work.

Once you finished the first drawing, you plucked up enough courage to approach Grayson.

"Is this alright?" you asked, showing her the finished product. (You had overthought how to phrase the question for the past ten minutes before.)

She hummed vaguely, glancing up from her clipboard, and raised her eyebrows.

You took that as a 'yes'.

Viktor returned to the room after you began your second drawing. The hem's of his shirt sleeves were stained with purple liquid, and powder of the same colour speckled his hair. He didn't look too pleased.

From his pocket he unfurled a long list and busied himself with pacing between the rooms, instructing Enforcers carrying bulky boxes of contraband, inspecting miscellaneous items and mumbling to himself.

You were so engulfed in your sketching, you jumped when he seemingly appeared beside you, peering at the work. For someone who used a clunky cane to walk, he moved incredibly quietly.

"All going well?" he asked.

You smiled. "Yeah. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know what the current 'level of elevation' is, would you?"

"I have no idea. Ten?"

"That sounds about believable. Thanks." You scribbled it in the corner. Hopefully the numbers weren't too essential. "How's it going for you?"

"As exciting as paper work can be, frankly. Yet..." He lowered his voice to a whisper, casting wary glances at the Enforcers still surveying the area. "This man's work is surprisingly intriguing. I originally wrote it off as unfeasible ramblings, but there appears to be a lot of logic behind it. Dangerous and unauthorised nonetheless, but it certainly has potential. It appears, from his notes, that he was attempting to invoke..." He trailed off. It seemed he was on the verge of rambling away to himself rather than you.

He blinked the thoughtful glaze from his eyes and grinned reassuringly at you, but the quite-not-there look still lingered.

Later, as you were adding the final strokes your last drawing, a man burst into the room.

The first thing you noticed about him was his build. If Viktor was made up of sharp corners and angles, then this man was all squares and rectangles. Square chin, broad shoulders. His dark hair was tousled. A bandage covering his shoulder peeked out from behind his rumpled shirt.

Grayson greeted the man and directed him to a chair. He stood. You realised then that this must be the apartment's owner - the scientist. He didn't look the type, but then again you had had little experiences with mad inventors (a grand total of none).

The two spoke, and you attempted to look as inconspicuous as possible while you listened in.

The man recounted the story, which wasn't nearly as exciting and action-packed as you had expected. He had been walked back, heard a noise from inside and - bam - nearly avoided being blasted to bits. You had expected at least one fist fight.

With a clack clack-clack, Viktor entered the room. He walked over to the gigantic chalk board on the other side of the room, appearing to inspect it. You had clearly seen him read over the confusing scribbling many, many times in the past hour. Another eavesdropper, you acknowledged.

From the stolen glimpses of the man - Jayce, as you had caught Grayson calling him - you captured as you pretended to scan the room, he was nervous. Posture hunched, head bowed. Rightfully so. You would be, too, if you were in his position. For a moment his eyes slid to yours. You quickly looked away and focused intently on the ground as if it were the most interesting thing in the room.

"Let's go over it again," Grayson said.

You absentmindedly poked at the rubble with your toe. Something blue glinted - no, glowed - beneath the stones and planks. You bent down.

"You have to believe me," Jayce pleaded. "I didn't do it."

"Relax, kid, we know it was a break-in," Grayson told him. This was the third - or was it forth? - time she had reassured him. "But it doesn't explain a lot of this. There's a lot of restricted items, and I don't see any permits here."

You brushed aside some debris to unearth the blue-glowy-thing. It was a tiny, thin stone, almost glass-like in its texture. The air seemed to almost crackle as your reached to touch it and-

"Hey, hey! Be careful with that, please!"

You shot upright. Everyone was looking at you - including Jayce, who had been the one to give the exasperated warning. You breathed a hurried apology, but luckily the conversation had already resumed.

Face flushing, you crept swiftly from the room and found yourself in a tiny, empty bedroom. From through the thin wall, it seemed that Viktor had joined the talk. An incredulous 'what?' from Jayce was all you could make out. You shut the door and rested your forehead against it, reciting all the curses you knew in your mind.

Serves you right for being nosey, you supposed.