In a world - aggregate of worlds, actually - where information is money, power and most other things a person can desire, information crimes often go hand in hand with murder. This is one of those cases. In I8a's experience, those are always the messiest and the kind best to get over with quickly. There is no guarantee the criminal will not take another life and that would be just unprofessional of them to let such a thing happen. If brass is particularly picky, they might scold her for not foreseeing this crime happening in the first place. As if she was psychic.

With firm stride, I8a approaches glowing laser cordon and the two Law Enforcement officers stationed there. They look at her with furrowed brow, gazes travelling from the petite red head with calm, nearly empty expression and bright turquoise gaze, up to the rugged face of somehow menacing taller man who is following on her heels clad all in black, cybernetic sunglasses hiding his eyes. They have seen that look hundreds times before in the last 3 years of working together and it has never phased either of them. She flashes her badge - a handy piece of electronic chips encased in plastic that held her fingerprints and some more information that would prove it truly belongs to her - and realization dawns on the faces of both humans.

"Ah, the freelancers!" youngest voices, receiving sharp look from the other. He shrivels slightly and without another word, presses button to pause laser stream and let the pair pass. She thanks and moments later, they are in the crime scene. It's nothing special on its own, really. A dozen of servers on the right aligned in four rows of three, a data access console in the front. A shabby metal table with tech bits and possibly some personal belongings, rolling office chair that looks well past its prime are at the opposite wall. But the fact that this room of high level equipment and apparently, highly sensitive, information is placed in a shabby warehouse in jungle on some middle-of-nowhere planet is strange. And those thick metal doors on the left are at least slightly unusual, too. She can bet they are much better protected than they seem.

I8a puts on gloves, their snow white color matching her blouse underneath brown leather corset and cravat, held by beautiful pin and with beautiful details on it, again in brown color. Same leather seems to make up her pants (with many buckles along the edges for decoration) and thick soled boots. She had planned to use a different outfit for today, but out of respect for victim picked a more modest one. Even sath don't find it in good manners to show cleavage at burials or other times when deceased are concerned.

She moves over to the data access terminal, has a quick look at the screen and then backs off. She turns to the male that is currently kneeling, inspecting something on the floor a bit to their left. He doesn't need gloves, his shiny black metal hands have no fingerprints. "Roscoe, when you're finished there, make a copy of all data here. Find out what were last actions performed, so we know what was thief's goal. And also try to find traces of access form - if the culprit broke in the system or he used proper pass codes and information. If so, this might be an inside job." He looks up at her and nods.

I8a moves towards the body, laying near the mysterious, thick doors. There is laser wound to his chest, the beam having cauterized the wound so there is no excessive blood. He lays there as he fell, one arm stretched, the other next to his holster - reaching for his gun, maybe? - and what she reads as startled expression on his face. Perhaps he wasn't expecting someone to be here. Or maybe its like this because he recognized the person about to kill him? She searches his pockets, but finds nothing besides packet of chewing gum. She had hoped for something that could hint at his identity. For now, he is still John Doe to them.

She stands up, brushing strand out of her face and tucking it behind her ear, and approaches the doors. There is no handle, no keypad next to it, absolutely nothing that would hint at way they could be accessed and opened. Perhaps, from the data access terminal...