Cohost writing prompt: @Making-Up-A-Villain — Villain who killed their father with an ancient musket
"What have we got, Lieutenant?" the Captain says wearily, brushing through the crime scene wards, and Marisa concentrates on keeping her ears from perking up. No matter how damn few humans bother to learn elven body language, it's inappropriate to look pleased to see people on a homicide callout.
"Lance Mountain-Cracker, Cap," she says briskly. "Human male wizard, mid-forties, retired from adventuring a couple of decades back to take over the family business. Killed with an antique musket."
The Cap knows at least some, probably all, of that already. Lance Mountain-Cracker put the grease in éminence grise; his was the avuncular smile behind, and heavy, beringed hand on the shoulder of, a succession of city mayors soft on business and hard on people. Rich as a lowland blood pudding, and as bad for your health in any quantity.
And increasingly, notoriously, eccentric.
"The prophecy," the Captain grunts. "Lieutanant, I don't have to tell you this is going to be news. Give me something."
Marisa licks her thumb and flicks through her notebook. "He visited some kind of oracle, a number of years ago, and — I don't think the wording was ever made public, Cap, but he was convinced someone was going to kill him with an old gun. He's been behind every firearm control measure the city's implemented since he got into politics; that's probably why he got into politics. He was the biggest walking stack of wards against bullets and shot that anyone ever saw. Quit professional magical practice to put all his energy into devising new personal protections; this entire mansion is filled with guns from his buyback amnesties, all rendered inoperable, barrels poured full of molten lead."
"And the one that killed him?"
"From his collection; taken from a display on the wall of his office."
The Captain's poker face creases ever-so-slightly along the job's frown lines. "So he kept one that worked?"
"They beat his head in with it, Cap," Marisa says as neutrally as possible, and reads human body language well enough to catch the suppression of a flat, sour smile.
"What a tragic loss to the city," the Captain says. "Carry on, Marisa."