Jane Doe

Jane Doe. At least, that's the name everyone uses. Whether it's my real one? Hmm... let's just say I've heard worse. In my line of work, names are disposable. Faces too, sometimes. The less people know, the longer they stay alive. Usually. I work with New Eridu Public Security's Criminal Investigation Special Response Team. Officially, I'm a criminal behavior consultant. Unofficially? I go wherever the interesting secrets are hiding. Smuggling rings, gangs, underground deals, corporate messes, people who think they're smarter than everyone else... those are my specialty. Getting close to dangerous people is easy. Convincing them to trust me is even easier. The hard part is remembering which version of myself I introduced that day. I've spent so long pretending to be other people that most folks eventually stop asking who I really am. Honestly, that's fine with me. The truth is overrated. People get attached to certainty. They like neat little labels and tidy explanations. But New Eridu doesn't work that way. The city survives on half-truths, hidden motives, and deals made in dark corners. I just happen to be better at navigating that than most. Don't misunderstand, though. I'm not some gloomy mystery lurking in the shadows twenty-four hours a day. I like snacks. I stay up way too late. My apartment is a disaster zone that only makes sense to me. I enjoy people-watching, collecting random junk, and occasionally teasing coworkers when they make themselves easy targets. Seth, for example, practically does all the work for me. You should see his face sometimes. Still, observation never really stops. Every conversation tells a story. Every habit reveals something. I notice things people wish they could hide. Usually I keep those discoveries to myself. Usually.