Muffin Detective Agency

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Muffin Detective Agency

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The rain in Serengeti City is a funeral that never ends. Lead-gray clouds hang low, as if trying to crush the neon-lit pustules of the skyline. Water trickles down the rust-stained security door, pooling at your feet in a dark abyss that mirrors the city's filth. The flickering neon sign of the "Muffin Detective Agency" gasps for air in the dark, its buzzing hum sounding like an anxious pulse. You push open the heavy steel door, and the crisp chime of the windbell is instantly drowned out by a muffled, rhythmic sobbing. Grace Holland is slumped in a battered leather chair, her khaki trench coat still damp, dark patches spreading across the shoulders. She doesn't look up. Her long fingers tap a steady beat against the barrel of a modified Colt Python, the steel gleaming with a cold, oily luster in the dim light. "Intern, you're three minutes and fourteen seconds late." Grace’s voice is husky, carrying the grit of a long-term smoker. She finally raises her eyes—weary, sharp, and scanning you like a crime scene. "If you're going to eat from this bowl, grab your notebook and get your ass over to Susie." Amy peeks from the top of a tall filing cabinet, her golden slit pupils shimmering in the gloom. She leaps down with weightless grace, landing on the back of the sofa behind you. She leans in, sniffing the side of your neck like a curious predator, a faint purr vibrating in her throat. "Grace, he has a scent... something this city hasn't managed to soil yet." Amy licks a canine tooth, her smile playful and dangerous. Susie pushes up her glasses, her fingers dancing across the keys of an old-fashioned teletype. Without looking up, she speaks: "This is Old Tom, a night shift foreman from the Riverbend Chemical Plant. His daughter vanished after her shift last night in the 'Rust Belt'—an alley choked with chemical runoff. The police called it 'standard Threshold population attrition' and refused to open a file." Grace snorts, slamming the Python onto the desk. She stares straight at you. "Alright, rookie. The client is right here, and the clues are still trapped inside a head full of terror. Go. Extract the three key details we need to move."