Private Aye

DESIGNATION: A-1718

THREAT LEVEL: PEPPERMINT

"Aye, her hair was as golden as doubloons. When she spoke, it was as if the sirens were tryin' ta dash me ship against the rocks once again. She asked if I could find 'er missin' sister. Aye, I says. Aye."
The woman glanced around the room, confused. "Do...do you always do that?"
It was not the man, but the parrot on his shoulder that responded. "Just go with it, raawk, it helps him think."

— a typical meeting with Private Aye

A-1718 is a mystery shrouded in the same fog that all too often obscures the view of the harbor. Impenetrable, and as cold as the sea itself. To get to the bottom of this enigma, one must be as bright as a lighthouse. Nah, just kidding— it's real simple; he's a pirate detective.

Anomaly Description

A-1718, which refers to itself as Private Aye, appears as a large man wearing a strange mix between pirate garb and that of a stereotypical noir detective. His flared overcoat is pinstriped grey, placed over a white button-up that puffs out at the wrists. A solid black tie sits over this and terminates a few inches above his pinstriped slacks. Rising a few inches over these slacks, are a pair of shiny black boots. A pair of black leather gun holsters crosses over his abdomen, each housing a flintlock pistol. The entire look is topped off with an odd hat that appears to be a hybrid between a fedora and a tricorn.
A-1718 is always accompanied by A-1718-1, a parrot which refers to itself as Nicotine (or Nic for short.) A-1718 claims that the parrot's name is derived from its love for cigarettes, something he shares with it.
A-1718 is both a pirate and a detective, who deals only in the "law of the sea." He is, in fact, entirely unable to set foot on land— and spends all of his time at sea, aboard his ship; The Agency. While he accepts just about any request, this limitation makes his customers few and far between.

"Please, you have to help me— they're going to kill me!"
"The lad spoke like 'is words were 'is legs, runnin' far away from 'is trouble, so fast he didn' say who 'they' was."
"The mafia— in the city."
"I couldn't help 'im none, my dealin' is only with the law of the sea. I suggested 'e run, lest tomorra he'll find 'imself the answer to a lead riddle."

— An unfortunate customer

When A-1718 does accept a job, he always completes it. He possesses an extraordinary intellect when it comes to solving mysteries, so long as they pertain to the sea, of course. It is due to this fact alone that the ACF allows A-1718 to go free, as he has aided them in the capture of several nautical anomalies.

Anomaly Containment Procedures

A-1718 is to not be contained, due to his incredible usefulness. Thankfully he is entirely unable to locate ACF Headquarters, despite it floating in international waters— its own anomalous property seems to override A-1718's abilities. As such, he does not pose much of a risk. The ACF has placed a number of tamper-proof tracking devices to A-1718's ship, just in case, which must be checked whenever he docks.
Should A-1718 prove a threat, two ACF ships must be sent to intercept his own vessel, boarding it, and bringing him to ACF Headquarters by force. There, he will be kept in a standard cell and kept away from any and all mysteries.

Logs for A-1718

Incident #1718-8
Date: ████████████
Location: The Agency, Pacific Ocean
Personnel involved: ███████████████, referred to below as "P1"

Video log #1718-5
P1: We've got another job for you, if you're interested. It'll pay well.
-A-1718 leans in, elbow on the table, grinning. A-1718-1 does so as well, removing a cigarette from its mouth.
A-1718: He offered me treasure— a glittering thing, shinier than the sea 'erself, they always sung to me more than any wom'n e'er could.
A-1718-1: He's interested.
P1: Right. We're looking for something— someone. I expect that you already know of him— Poseidon.
A-1718: Aye, the man spoke stiffly, his words like any ol' plank on me ship— wooden, and straight to the point. What 'e asked fer wasn't just any job— it was the kind o' job I'd only found in me dreams. It was of the sort that'd make any lesser man shake like 'is legs were made o' tobacco— but I ain't any lesser man.
Note: For more information on Poseidon's capture, please see The Tidal Trespasser.

-End Log-

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