They went back to headquarters and started writing up their reports. It was noisy, but not too noisy. Just enough to keep them focused, without drowning in the event itself.

The taller man looked over at his partner who had just grunted. His scar curved and crinkled incongruously next to the unharmed skin; a memento from the Freezer Burn case, about 19 months ago. “What?” he asked.

“Something you said. I don’t know. It’s just that 18 cans is a lot of caffeine for two people, I mean what’s their deal? Are they all hopped up on the stuff?”

“You think maybe they’re selling the stuff? Retailers?”

“Well maybe”, he hedged. “But maybe there was a sale or something. I mean that stuff does have a shelf life. That fake sugar I guess goes bad.”

They both thought of the fact that aspartame is not digested by the body, and it had been proposed that it came out in the same form it went in. Maybe their shit is sweet tasting.

They thought the same thing at the same time, maybe that’s why they were such a good team. They both winced and shook their heads.