The air hung heavy with the scent of herbs and incense, starkly contrasting the detective's usual jobs. She stood in the dimly lit apothecary, her eyes trained on the figure hunched over a workbench. He was a wiry man, his face obscured by a hood. His nimble fingers working on something the detective couldn't see, seemingly oblivious to her presence.

In a flash, she was beside him. With her hands a blur, she drew her knife and plunged it into the figure. She expected a scream, a struggle, but there was only silence. He looked at his victim, hoping to see the telltale signs of death, but his eyes were wide open, staring at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"And what was that for?" He asked, his voice raspy.

The detective stumbled back; She'd never encountered anything like this before. Her victims always stayed dead. She stared at him, her mind racing. "You... you're supposed to be dead," she stammered.

"Whatever do you mean?" he said, his voice laced with amusement. "I'm certainly not dead. Perhaps you should try again?"

The detective, drawn to his gaze, a strange mix of fear and fascination swirling within her. She had never seen such a reaction to death, such a blatant disregard for it. This man was unlike anything she had ever encountered.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He smiled, a sly, knowing smile. "That, my dear, is a secret I'm not willing to share."

He finally stood up, his movements fluid and graceful despite the recent attack. He looked at the detective, his eyes holding a hint of challenge. "But I'm willing to tell you everything you want to know if you're willing to play along."

The detective's hand tightened around her dagger. She had never felt so conflicted, so intrigued. This man was a puzzle she desperately wanted to solve. And she knew, deep down, that this was just the beginning.

It was now months after that day when the detective tried to take the life of the cult leader; they'd been spending a lot of time together, mostly because she was greatly comforted by his healing capabilities: It never hurts to have a medic, after all.

They went on an expedition to find various herbs that the strange man needed. She followed along because she hadn't had any other plans for the day, and she was fascinated by him.

"So, What the hell do you even do out here?" The detective asks, kneeling to touch a plant. The man slaps her hand away and side-eyes her.

"I do many things, but mostly research, pray, and stave off folks that wonder where they shouldn't be." He then waves his hand over the plant, causing it to sprout. "Which tends to be Grineer, or... People either brave or stupid enough to try to kill me."

"Is that why you get called a Cul-" The detective starts, but swiftly gets cut off by the man swinging around and, in an instant, having his hand around her throat, lifting her off the ground slightly.

"I am merely a man with a fascination with the nature that has reclaimed this planet," He says, his voice firm and harsh. "If you ever try to call me that again, I'll take my own attempt at killing you. And I won't need to try again."

As he lets go, the detective clutches her throat, coughing and choking as she drinks in the air from the force of the man and her fear of death. "Got it..." She squeaks out, trying to hide her dread.