Detective Liam Tahoe could usually be relied on to butt his way into the weirder cases whenever they filtered past his department. This often suited the other members of his precinct just fine, as it meant being able to pawn off the work involving augmented citizens, supernatural phenomena and all the other colorful miscellanea that made the daily commute in Sterling City so precarious. It had gotten to the point that the detective wasn’t used to pushback when he wedged his way into a matter.

“I don’t see why you’re so fanatical about this case.” The flustered mongoose at Tahoe’s right was trying to keep up with the larger anteater’s long strides. “At best it’s a B&E charge and property damage, *maybe*aiding and abetting, but that’s a stretch with only him, and he’s not talking until his lawyer shows up.”

“He’ll talk to me” Tahoe replied curtly, flipping through the file in his hands. The suspect they were discussing had been picked up near a private R&D lab in the western industrial district, close to the docks. There had been signs of a fight and plenty of damage to the building, but the perp had surrendered willingly when the police showed up, and had been stewing in lock-up for the past several hours without so much as a peep, save a recent phone call to his attorney.
What had Tahoe interested was the melted ice all across the crime scene, and the telltale arrow shafts occasionally left behind by Sterling’s most enigmatic vigilante.

“Did he mention anyone else at the scene, Snowplow maybe?” Tahoe inquired.

The other detective nodded. “Says he was attacked, and defended himself. It’s plausible.”

“Plausible enough for a jury.” Tahoe grunted. Any other city in the world and this kind of defense would be laughable, but in Sterling it was easy to get caught up in the chaos of masked fistfights and daring nonsense. People like Snowplow complicated the matter, like they always did. “This whole thing stinks to high heaven Pulaski, you know that right?”

“Of course he’s not telling us everything.” Pulaski responded. “Don’t see why you’re getting involved. This isn’t the first or even the hundredth perp we’ve dragged in complaining about that frosty prick.”

Tahoe flipped through the file for the information he needed. “Initial forensics just got back. The southern perimeter wall of that laboratory was reduced to rubble, hit by something big. But there are no tire tracks, and no signs of an explosive.” He turned to Pulaski, a familiar glean of suspicion in his eyes. “And this guy says he went toe to toe with Snowplow until officers were on scene?”

“Yeah…” The mongoose rankled, not liking what Tahoe was leading him to.

“Yeah.” Tahoe nodded. “And he hasn’t got a scratch on him.”

The duo entered the observation room containing the two-way mirror that gave them access to interrogation room B. Tahoe got his first look at Leslie Moore through the glass and raised an eyebrow.
“Good Lord”

“Yeah…” Pulaski fidgeted. “We’re all pretty glad that he came in quietly.

“Why isn’t he cuffed?” Tahoe grimaced as he bit into his lollipop, eager to finish it off before he entered the box. He pointed through the glass. “Those things don’t count.”

“We uh...didn’t have any restraints that fit. Ended up using a pair of industrial towing links to bind him. He just waited around and let us do it.”

Tahoe noticed a slight tugging at the file in his hands and glanced at the diminutive mongoose who was trying to relieve him of the folder.
“You got a good look through the glass, Tahoe.” Pulaski said. “Now come on, leave this one to us.”
*He’s got them all scared*, Tahoe realized. *They want to get rid of him*.

“Ten minutes” The larger anteater tugged back at the file. “If I don’t get anything to stick, I walk. Do what you want with him.”

“Yeah forgive me if that compromise doesn’t inspire confidence.” Pulaski grumbled. “You’re a real inch-for-a-mile type.”

“In this case, more like penny-for-a-pound.” Tahoe responded. “Ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes.”

Tahoe nodded and left, squaring his shirt and discarding the paper stick he had licked clean. The well-built detective had seen way too much to be spooked very easily, but he made a point of making sure that his gun was loaded and holstered under his armpit before walking in.

Moore was sitting directly on the table in the interrogation room, which the officers had allowed as there didn’t seem to be any chair that could contain his monstrous rear, or withstand his weight. Even the metal table creaked every time he shifted his bulk, his large tail occasionally thumping against it as he counted spots in the ceiling.

The colossal orca turned and smiled at Tahoe as he closed the heavy door behind him. His mouth was full of rounded, sharp teeth.
“Evening Officer. It is evening, isn’t it?”

Already he was trying to set the pace of the conversation. Tahoe didn’t bite.
“Get off the table.” he gruffly ordered.
Leslie fixed him with a casual, predatory leer. His eyes were almost completely black, white irises fixed on him like points of light.
The orca shrugged and rose to his feet with a clink of his chains and a creak of reinforced metal. Tahoe was quietly thankful that he hadn’t indented a groove into the tabletop.
Leslie Moore stood at well over eight feet tall, and nearly as wide. His bulky tail, wider around than one of his pillar-like thighs, slid off the table and rested it’s base against the floor with a thud. He looked down at his interrogator and stalked around the table, the smug look never leaving his face.

Tahoe crossed the room and sat in his uncomfortable chair as Moore decided to sit cross-legged on the floor on the other side of the table. It almost put him at head-height with the anteater.

“Need a few more details?” Leslie asked, the low rumble of his voice setting Tahoe’s teeth on edge.

“You don’t seem to understand the trouble that you’re in.” The detective fired back. “Breaking and entering, assault, destruction of private property…”
“How about resisting arrest?” Leslie postulated. “Wire fraud? Operation of a forklift without a license? If we’re making up charges, do you mind if I add a few?”

“You’re acting cocky for someone caught at the scene of the crime.” Tahoe responded.

“Everyone else had fled.” Leslie smiled again. There was no warmth or levity to it, he seemed to be doing it just to remind the detective of his teeth. “I figured someone should stick around to explain the situation.”

“Everyone else?” Tahoe checked his file. “You’re talking about the unmarked van that was caught on surveillance leaving the scene.”
The only camera that was working that night. The detective grimaced inwardly. This crew had covered their tracks well.

“I didn’t see a van.” Leslie rolled his head in a noncommittal fashion. “But if anyone else was there, they bugged out in a hurry when I showed up.”

“Then it was just you and Snowplow, while ‘anyone else’ got away.” Tahoe responded.

Leslie pretended to think for a moment. “Antlers and a sleeveless parka? Acts like an Arctic Circle Robin Hood? Yeah, he was there.”

“And you two came to blows.”

Leslie leaned back. “Just started to open fire, or, ice if you want to keep the record straight. I don’t know if I spooked him, or he was helping those van people you’re talking about. Would explain why he was on the scene so fast.”

“You’re calling Snowplow an accomplice to this.” Tahoe pressed the statement, probing, looking for a hook.

“Speculating.” Less admitted. “Someone has to do your job while you’re here grilling me.”

No avenue there. This orca knew when to drop a point before he said too much.

“You never explained what you were doing at the wharf when you…” Tahoe checked the file on the table between them. “Ah. ‘Heard a loud noise and went to investigate’.”

“I was walking back downtown.” Moore elaborated. “I’ve been thinking about getting myself a boat, and marinas down that way are cheap. I was shopping around.

“At one in the morning?” Tahoe interjected.

“Wanted to see the place at night, check the security and walk the wharf without some dockmaster going on and on about ideal location or winter fees.” Leslie nodded. “I only trust a product when no one’s trying to sell it to me. Might look elsewhere now, after last night. A boat’s a big investment, and I got a feeling property value around there is gonna take a dive.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have the name of this marina.” Tahoe inquired.

Leslie gave him the names of three. All leads to be checked on, but Tahoe doubted much would come of it. It was a flimsy alibi, but easy to back up.

“I’ve seen entire wagon loads of bank robbers, muggers, arsonists…” He glanced down at the sheets of his report. “All brought in after running foul of Snowplow. Way I understand it, he only goes after crooks. After he beats them silly.”

“If that’s true, why isn’t he wearing a badge?” Leslie raised one of the white spots on his smooth head that acted in place of an eyebrow. “I’ll bet that stings a bit. Some loon with a weaponized snowblower running around your city, showing you how to do your job.”

Tahoe rifled through crime scene photos, trying to avoid eye contact and find his next angle.

“You don’t want me here.” Moore leaned forward, his chains clanking and his wide gut pressing into the table. With his voice, anything could sound like a threat. “You want him don’t you? And I’m the closest you could get.”

Tahoe began to unconsciously gnaw on his pen.

“How close have you gotten, Detective? Picking up the pieces, talking to folks, chasing footprints…” Leslie scratched his jaw with one meaty hand. “If I ever see him again...d’you want me to get an autograph for you?”

Tahoe slapped the report closed, spitting the chewed up pen cap onto the floor.
“You’ve got priors up north.” He grunted. “I can tell you’re used to talking to cops.”

“I was brought in for questioning once or twice” the orca shrugged. “Nothing serious.”

“Seems you used to run in a bad crowd.” Tahoe looked over the smatterings of misdemeanors and suspicions that marred the younger Leslie Moore’s record. The mug shot attached to a 15-year old arrest warrant looked like a completely different person. He looked like a scared kid in the photo, short, and without an ounce of the bulk he had now.
“Any reason in particular you came down south, Moore? Across all those state lines?”

“Call me Less” the suspect found his grin again. “I needed a change of scenery, and this seemed like the kind of town where I could plant my stake.” His chains clinked as he leaned back against his own tail. “It paid off, like it always does in the long term. Sterling City’s been good to me.”

“Very.” Tahoe closed the folder. “You never did say how you managed to acquire so much seed money so quickly.”

“I have a few generous friends that I’ve since paid back.” the hulking orca explained. “It’s all a matter of knowing when to buy low and sell high. Did you come here to learn the secret of my success?”

“I’ve got a few of my own ideas about that.” Tahoe scowled. Moore had serious connections. His listed holdings were a small but prime slice of Sterling real estate, with reportable stock in over a dozen companies, all strictly above board. It was the portfolio of an up and coming investment tycoon. Or maybe someone laundering a lot of money.

Tahoe was sick of dancing around the question and moved in, the crime scene photos still fresh in his mind. There was a clear path of destruction in and out of the laboratory, with entry and exit points blown in the perimeter wall surrounding the property and one side of the building. The security had been disabled just long enough for the team to walk in, crack the building open like an oyster to scoop out their prize, and run. It might have been a clean getaway if not for Snowplow.

The rubble had all been blown inward by some sort of percussive force, but left no sign of scorch marks or explosive agents. Theories as to what did the damage were reserved to a colossal battering ram, or some new concussion weapon that had no official name or precedent.

Tahoe had his own lead to pursue, glancing up at Leslie Moore’s considerable form. One of the sleeves on his shirt had been torn, revealing an arm almost the size of a tree trunk defined with a hardened tone. His belly seemed as though it was the only soft part of him, the rest rendered in hard, bulky muscle. The man certainly looked capable of punching through a wall. But layers of cement seemed a lot to ask.

“Tell me about Snowplow,” Tahoe requested. “If you’re so eager to change the subject. By your testimony, he attacks you at the scene of the crime-”

“I was in the area” Less corrected. “He must have jumped to conclusions and thought I was involved.”

“Whatever would give him that idea.” Tahoe droned.

Less shrugged and placed his hands on the shelf of his belly. "I seem to intimidate people. Must have mistaken me for someone else, maybe one of his usual sparring partners."

"I've seen the state of his 'sparring partners' when Snowplow is done with them." Tahoe tapped his bare pen against the folder that lay between them, leaving tiny dots of blue ink scattered across the cardstock. "I've hauled in a few of them myself. He plays hardball. Broken bones, open wounds, concussions, black eyes, frostbite…"

"He was a handful" Less admitted.

"And yet despite that handful, you don't seem to have a scratch on you. Odd that you'd keep him busy for so long, while the rest of the gang got away, without so much as a bloody nose. Now that's impressive."

"Rest of the gang?" Less squinted. "You sound like you're trying to lump me in with the ones who blew up that factory."

The detective grimaced. Moore was far more slippery than he had given him credit for. He'd managed to avoid the hook of how strong he was and deny involvement again. Tahoe knew that if he could get Less on the record denying he had powers, he could catch him in a lie and have him.
And then he'll snap those chains off and cave my head in the detective thought before he could stop himself. He banished the notion from his head. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of being scared of this man. Not when he was closing in.

"You’re letting me weigh you down, detective." Less mused. "Giving me the third degree, keeping me locked up here while Snowplow and those other crooks are running free. Hell, even that factory that got knocked over is probably guiltier than I am. What was it called?...Abrax...Ajax.."

"Ablation Industries." Tahoe rolled his eyes. "You're going to accuse an R&D firm for stealing their own proprietary equipment."
The robbery that Less had so obviously facilitated had been surgical and precise. The prototype for a new pol alloy refining system and all associated research materials had been stolen; cart and basket, along with all files and hard disk drives associated with it. The loss stood to deal a serious blow to the company.

"You think they aren't going to find a way to turn a profit from all this?" Less waved Tahoe off with a rattle of his chains. "I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a hand in this. Chase down those thieves all you want, the real crooks are in the boardroom.”

Tahoe was running out of angles. He took in a breath just as the door to the interrogation room swung open.
“I still have-” His response died in his throat as he saw Pulaski standing in the threshold, with a very serious looking caribou right behind him. The newcomer was wearing a well-fitted suit and holding a satchel in both hands. Tahoe knew a lawyer when he saw one.
The detective turned back to Leslie Moore’s grinning face, and then to the attorney again. Less clinked his chains and the lawyer’s eyes drifted over to his wrists. All at once Tahoe knew that trying to buy more time was a lost cause. Improper restraints and lack of protocol would give any decent attorney more than enough ammunition to have Moore out of custody by sunrise. Tahoe could feel the orca’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but didn’t even bother shooting him a final defiant glare. Wordlessly, Tahoe rose to his feet and walked out, leaving Pulaski to be sandwiched between Less and his legal representation.

---

Tahoe was still turning the events of the interrogation and arrest over in his head a day later, his wall of posted articles, red yarn and conspiracy theories momentarily forgotten as he tried to find a hole in Moore’s story he could pry open. The timeline of that night was concrete in his mind. Leslie arrives with the crew and punches through the perimeter wall of the Ablative Industries lab. The security systems are compromised so no one sees them come or go.
“Property values are gonna go down…” Tahoe mumbled to himself.
The thieves know what they’re after, proprietary tech that could ruin the company with it’s loss, double that if a rival corporation got their hands on it. They steal the files, wipe the system and load the hardware up into their van, set to make a killing from fencing the project, or collect on whoever hired them.
All the real crooks are in the board room… Something about Leslie’s nuggets of advice tugged at Tahoe’s brain.
The crew is all set to make a getaway, when Snowplow shows up. The vigilante could blow the entire operation, everyone ends up in jail and no one gets paid, but before he can trip up the crew, Less, dressed in civvies, gets between Snowplow and his accomplices. He holds him off, no, fights him off, with whatever power or weapon he used to punch through those walls. Judging by the level of destruction, broken property and melting ice, those two were really laying into each other.
“Kept him busy until the cops arrived. Stayed outside of the lab perimeter….” Tahoe scowled. “He knew how to avoid being implicated, had an alibi just in case. But Snowplow had to run from the sirens.”
Getting Snowplow on record would be next to impossible. Testimony from him was a lost cause, and without that, nothing was going to stick to Less. He’d beaten them. The cops, the company, the vigilantes...
“Buy low, sell high…” the detective mused as something slowly clicked into place. An idea. A wild guess that needed to be chased.
Idiot He thought So busy with superpowers and Snowplow you couldn’t see what he was actually hiding.
Tahoe sat up and started to make some calls.

---

The Icebreaker Lounge and Bar had been the talk of Sterling City’s upper crust for weeks. A new form of “mini-resort” in the heart of the city, on the top floors of one of Sterling’s more impressive skyscrapers. From the vast rooftop, one could look up at the sky or out at the cityscape, usually with a drink in their hand. The roof was mostly taken up by a huge, heated pool and enclosed lounge, with the next two floors below dedicated to restaurants, spa facilities and living quarters. All the amenities of a vacation in the heart of the city for the wealthy and elite of Sterling to party, hide from their significant others or just insulate themselves from reality for another week. Tahoe actually had to flash his badge at the reception desk just to be let up in the elevator, his typical ruddy coat and tie earning him a skeptical look from the secretary until he made it clear he was a cop.
The pool was open tonight. A small portion of it was indoors, enclosed within the back half of the lounge under a glass canopy that kept it warm and contained during inclement weather, with large swept-wide doors leading from one pool to the other outside, connected by a long, thin waterfall. Tahoe looked obscenely out of place stalking among swimsuited bathers and pool goers. A woman the anteater was fairly certain he had seen on several billboards glanced in his direction with a smile on her lips and a very threadbare swimsuit stretched across her body. Tahoe redirected his gaze and passed by the busy bar and the assembled crowd on his way to the balcony. The cool night air embraced him as he stepped outside, the heat of indoors dissipating all at once. The exterior pool was lit, steam rising from it’s surface blurring most of the patrons that were either lounging about or enjoying the swim-up bar. Tahoe had no idea what it cost to keep this place running, but the overhead must have been astronomical. Investigation into the Icebreaker revealed that it had been around a lot longer than expected, similarly ambitious but far less successful in its early days. The initial founders had overextended themselves and didn’t have the clientele they had expected to keep the place open, nearly declaring bankruptcy until an “angel investor” had swooped in with a massive injection of capital and a keen eye for business and promotion. What had initially been built as a covert slice of luxury was now a common name, a clubhouse for the cream of the crop that everyone else got to look up at and dream of visiting. Being a member was a status symbol that everyone wanted. Tahoe had to acknowledge the simple brilliance of it. The one thing rich people loved more than their money was reminding people of how rich they were. And everyone else loved to pretend.
Tahoe placed his hand in his pockets as he came to a stop by the pool’s edge, near an underwater stair that led into the water. The steam wafting off the pool made him sweat under his layers, humidity forcing him to breathe deep. He scanned the patrons, looking for his target.
On the far side of the water, a huge dark shape detached itself from a tangle of other people and slid under the surface. Tahoe felt keenly targeted as the huge, glacial figure swam towards him, nothing but a long black dorsal fin visible above the water. It was enough to make him feel like a flailing minnow approached by a hungry predator. Which was fine. So long as he could hide the hook.

The water’s surface broke and Leslie Moore rose, moisture running down his slick body as he took the steps one at a time, gradually gaining height until he loomed over Tahoe once more, his feet still in the shallows. Most folks would look compromised speaking to a police detective in a speedo, but most people weren’t the size of the Orca that eyeballed Tahoe. His huge white belly practically bridged the gap between them, supported by tree-trunk legs and hanging below a chest that bulged with muscle and arms similarly endowed. Now that practically every inch was on display, he seemed all the more imbued with dangerous energy. His presence ate the space around him, a black and white monolith of smooth blubber and muscle. His head was perched atop a thick, ropey neck, and cocked with feigned amusement.
“Evening Detective” he growled. Less always growled, but there was a particularly threatening timbre to it now. “You’re up late.”

“Just thought I’d check in.” Tahoe remained unperturbed. “It’s been a real traumatic week for you, getting attacked by a dangerous criminal, caught up in a robbery and harrassed by the cops...ah, my Captain extends his thanks for dropping that lawsuit, by the way.”

“I’m not here to make things any tougher for our police force.” Less shrugged his shoulders. “And mistakes will be made…” He reeked with fabricated courtesy, comfortable in his home nest. Still, every inch of him was silently saying the same thing: *What are you doing here*

“You’ve done a good job with this place.” Tahoe gestured around the outdoor space to mark his approval. It hadn’t been hard to dig up the identity of Icebreaker’s savior. Less had come out of nowhere and offered the mini-resort financial salvation in return for a significant share of the failing business, turning it around in a year. His investment had multiplied significantly and all been put back into the club. He practically owned the place now, and seemed to enjoy it as his personal headquarters.

Buy Low, Sell High. Tahoe thought to himself. Less and his affiliates had a suspicious habit of buying into businesses on the verge of ruin and reaping the benefits of their miraculous recovery.

“I like to look after my investments.” Less nodded. “You have any stock in this city?”

“No, but I’ve still put a lot of work into it.” Tahoe responded. “Funny you should mention that, I thought I’d check up on your portfolio while we closed your case. So I contacted a friend of mine at the state revenue offices and had him pull some files.”

“Still looking for the secret to my success, detective?” Less responded. There was a tangible note of tension in his voice now. Tahoe kept his own body language neutral.

“I admit, I was looking for any mysterious payments over the past few days into any of your accounts.” Tahoe explained. “No such luck there. Any work you’ve done over the past few days must have been done pro-bono. Or you waived your fees for some reason.”

Less had grown quiet.

“Ablation Industries didn’t do so well after that robbery.” Tahoe was unwrapping a stick of gum to pop in his mouth. “Their stocks plummeted off a cliff, and seemed set to stay there...until they started to rebound. I poked my nose into that reversal of fortunes, and it seems that there’s chatter among the board that their missing blueprints have been reclaimed. It won’t bounce the company back overnight, but they stand to retake lost ground, and appease their stockholders.”
Tahoe heard a soft clicking noise as Leslie’s massive fists tightened.

“Good for them” Less rumbled.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a company by the name of Beachhead Financials, would you?” Tahoe eyed Less carefully. He was way out on a limb here, but the way the orca’s head tilted noncommittally told him all that he needed. Less was rendered speechless, neither accepting or denying the incrimination.

“An investment firm.” the detective continued, relentless. “You’d like them. Plenty of capital with a few key investments here and there, but hard to contact, not a lot of infrastructure. I’m not one to throw out an accusation without a warrant, but it has all the signs of a shell company.”
The heated air was making the pool humid. Tahoe tugged at his collar nonchalantly while Less’s wide tail stirred the water behind him.

“Beachhead submitted an offer to buy up a pretty substantial wad of Ablation in cheap stocks yesterday, right when they were at their lowest. It was...exceedingly well timed, and made that company and it’s owners primed to ride it’s reversal of fortunes into the black. So if someone were to know of that robbery ahead of time and the damage it would do, they’d be primed to make a killing if they bought up those stocks at their cheapest, and then restored their value by handing back the plans to Ablation’s equipment. Risky, but very profitable.”

“Do you expect me to comment on this financial scheme?” Less responded. Every syllable was a warning of distant thunder.

“Nah.” Tahoe shrugged, teeth working at his stick of gum. “You’ve been cleared of the charges, remember? I just thought I’d let you know. The situation was shady enough that the friend I contacted agreed and started making their own calls. They thought it justified suspicion of insider trading and flagged Beachhead, as of…” He made a show of checking his watch. “An hour ago. I doubt much will come of it, but all their transactions are frozen under review and won’t be able to authenticate much for a few...weeks? Months? Until the investigation clears. I doubt that they’ll be profiting off of any recent fluctuations in the market.”
Tahoe put his hands in his pockets, still keenly aware of his loaded service issue under his arm. Less hadn’t moved as the water finished trickling off of his skin.

Moore finally spoke. There was a cool edge to his voice now, something calculated and restrained, past anger. “You look sweaty, detective.” He gestured behind him with his head. “Care to join me? The water’s fine.” His face made an attempt at nonchalance, but the smile was gone.

“I think I’ll keep my feet on solid ground, for now.” Tahoe responded, dropping the formality and fixing Less with a cool, focused stare. “I’ll be seeing you, Moore. Hope you’re as eager to talk to the cops next time.”

“I’ll be right here.” The orca shot back.

Tahoe turned and walked, feeling Leslie’s eyes on his back all the way back to the elevator. It didn’t matter. Maybe that overfilled whale really could punch through walls and shrug off a beating by a superhero, he still had to pay taxes. If Leslie Moore was as smart as he claimed, he’d run next time he heard sirens. Then it was only a matter of time before the detective took him down.
“Even if I have to do it one papercut at a time.” the anteater mused. Less was still staring at him straight across the rooftop as the doors to the elevator closed between them.

---

A story I penned up featuring a new player on the scene of Sterling City, Leslie Moore is a big guy with big ambitions and is a lot craftier than he looks. Completing the scene is Detective Tahoe, a character created by  Barrel-o-TF and of course, the sublime setting of Sterling City by  Kikatsu

Cover art for this story was supplied by artist and co-creator of Less, https://twitter.com/RoundWombo