W&F Section Story Collaboration: The Private Eye
0
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
Okay. Well, it's been a while since we tried this last. Frankly, it went in all different chaotic ways and to places we'd probably prefer lay dormant in our subconscious, but I have decided to tempt that devil again.
For those unfamiliar with how the last W&F Section Story Collaboration went, basically we will share a central generic story and jump in where the next person leaves off. This can be a good way to get over writer's block, practice your writing and collaboration skills, or just plain have some fun.
Anyone can participate as long as they follow a few reasonable and minimal ground rules:
1. Please try to keep your grammar, spelling, and punctuation skills up so everyone else can understand you.
2. Try to submit between two-to-four paragraphs, though the dialogue limit can be more lax.
3. Please let at least two or three people post between any posts you make to encourage collaboration.
4. No killing off main or side characters, as the story won't be fun for everyone if our subjects die randomly.
5. Keep comments above or below story text in parenthesis or something to distinguish it. If you just want to make comments about the story, feel free to do so in the writers' lounge linked in my signature.
Aside from those, try to be creative and don't be afraid to be drastic. Also, this will be good training for working with the unexpected. Someone may take the story in a direction you didn't expect, but that's okay. You can prove your strength in running with whatever the participants have in store. The setting is meant to be vague enough to lead to all sorts of things.
I think the act itself could still manage to be a bit of casual fun, so how about we give it another shot? Try to write in a first-person narrative, the manner supporting a Noir setting, think of it like a prompt. A perfect example would be Blood and Absinthe, the winter contest submission by El Chacal. I'll do the honors of starting us off once again.
The setting is a modern day downtown urban development, a dirty city where crime lurks in the nearest alley. We are Detective Jack Smith, PI, a gruff man in his mid thirties. He's been a private investigator for some time and knows his way around the block. He hates the city, but at the same time can't seem to leave it to its own devices. He feels the need to stick around and clean up the trash, even if it's garbage other people hire him for. Who knows what this week will bring? One can only wonder...
For those unfamiliar with how the last W&F Section Story Collaboration went, basically we will share a central generic story and jump in where the next person leaves off. This can be a good way to get over writer's block, practice your writing and collaboration skills, or just plain have some fun.
Anyone can participate as long as they follow a few reasonable and minimal ground rules:
1. Please try to keep your grammar, spelling, and punctuation skills up so everyone else can understand you.
2. Try to submit between two-to-four paragraphs, though the dialogue limit can be more lax.
3. Please let at least two or three people post between any posts you make to encourage collaboration.
4. No killing off main or side characters, as the story won't be fun for everyone if our subjects die randomly.
5. Keep comments above or below story text in parenthesis or something to distinguish it. If you just want to make comments about the story, feel free to do so in the writers' lounge linked in my signature.
Aside from those, try to be creative and don't be afraid to be drastic. Also, this will be good training for working with the unexpected. Someone may take the story in a direction you didn't expect, but that's okay. You can prove your strength in running with whatever the participants have in store. The setting is meant to be vague enough to lead to all sorts of things.
I think the act itself could still manage to be a bit of casual fun, so how about we give it another shot? Try to write in a first-person narrative, the manner supporting a Noir setting, think of it like a prompt. A perfect example would be Blood and Absinthe, the winter contest submission by El Chacal. I'll do the honors of starting us off once again.
The setting is a modern day downtown urban development, a dirty city where crime lurks in the nearest alley. We are Detective Jack Smith, PI, a gruff man in his mid thirties. He's been a private investigator for some time and knows his way around the block. He hates the city, but at the same time can't seem to leave it to its own devices. He feels the need to stick around and clean up the trash, even if it's garbage other people hire him for. Who knows what this week will bring? One can only wonder...
1
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
The night was as dark as always. Feint slivers of moonlight bled into my office through the window blinds, though the harsh glow of the street lamps did their part as well. There I sat, at my desk, smoking the night away while reading the paper. Murders, kidnappings, and acts of vandalism plagued the headlines. This was home sweet home.
The name's Jack Smith, PI. I don't much like it here, but I just can't bring myself to leave this place. I probably couldn't afford to if I wanted. The life of a PI is dangerous, and it doesn't pay well either. Most of the perks come with not having to answer to anyone but the law, though carrying a gun is a plus too.
This city has a lot of issues, and I get the special privilege of trying to sort out those that people are willing to pay me to. Tonight started out just like that, just like usual.
There was a knock on my door just before I was about to doze off. It rasped at the cheap window bearing my name. It took me a while before I decided to bother answering. "Yeah, come in! Door's open." The door opened in response, and they walked in. To my surprise, this wasn't my usual client.
The name's Jack Smith, PI. I don't much like it here, but I just can't bring myself to leave this place. I probably couldn't afford to if I wanted. The life of a PI is dangerous, and it doesn't pay well either. Most of the perks come with not having to answer to anyone but the law, though carrying a gun is a plus too.
This city has a lot of issues, and I get the special privilege of trying to sort out those that people are willing to pay me to. Tonight started out just like that, just like usual.
There was a knock on my door just before I was about to doze off. It rasped at the cheap window bearing my name. It took me a while before I decided to bother answering. "Yeah, come in! Door's open." The door opened in response, and they walked in. To my surprise, this wasn't my usual client.
1
If I could some up his appearance in one word, goth would about do it. Black hair, black lips, black clothes. The only thing that wasn't black was his pale skin and shocking blue eyes. He closed the door behind him but didn't bother to take the chair I kept available for clients. I didn't even get a chance to ask for his name before his lips parted.
"I'm here about a murder."
You'd think that would wipe the last bit of sleep from my eyes, but you'd be surprised how many pranksters there are these days. Especially kids, and this punk looked 18 at the oldest.
"I'll need more details to go by than that," I said, propping my head up over my desk with my arm.
"Your murder."
That woke me up. The kid reached under his jacket and pulled out a gun before I had time to react. A deafening shot rang out in my office as I tossed myself to the ground.
"I'm here about a murder."
You'd think that would wipe the last bit of sleep from my eyes, but you'd be surprised how many pranksters there are these days. Especially kids, and this punk looked 18 at the oldest.
"I'll need more details to go by than that," I said, propping my head up over my desk with my arm.
"Your murder."
That woke me up. The kid reached under his jacket and pulled out a gun before I had time to react. A deafening shot rang out in my office as I tossed myself to the ground.
1
To my astonishment, I was alive. If I thought that I was to be anything right now, dead would certainly have overtaken the list of malnourished, disheveled, D&D Champion, slayer of GRRM, and feeling the aftereffects of being crapulent the night before for top space. This vampiric SS Officer failed to kill me just as Hitler failed to get into an art college; what a buncha losers, but, precautionarily, I felt my chest to ensure that there was neither a hole nor blood. Yep, holeless, bloodless, and still alive.
I rose and glanced at him who had come to stand near the desk and, when he had seen me revenant, frenetically glanced from his gun to me. After he had calmed himself down, he raised his gun and shot again, but I stood motionless. The gun had blanks in them. God, I'm glad my hunch was right! He kept firing, and the gun clamored, and I became a god in his eyes. I swung my head to the mantle on the right wall next to my desk and holding in place my authentic scimitar; grabbing it, I sliced into the Nazi making abortive attempts to kill me.
"It's revenge of swords, Indiana Jones!"
Blood squirted from the wound and the body lurched onto the desk while I hacked at the spot between his shoulder and neck. After a few hours of exhausting work, I myself had finally calmed.
I glanced back at the body whose blood had stained the side of my desk, my mahogany desk, with a huge, almost rectangular, blotch and which continued to lie there like a freeloader.
"Welp. I wasn't planning on taking care of another one of my blue moon murders today. Guess, I'll have to reschedule with the guys."
I rose and glanced at him who had come to stand near the desk and, when he had seen me revenant, frenetically glanced from his gun to me. After he had calmed himself down, he raised his gun and shot again, but I stood motionless. The gun had blanks in them. God, I'm glad my hunch was right! He kept firing, and the gun clamored, and I became a god in his eyes. I swung my head to the mantle on the right wall next to my desk and holding in place my authentic scimitar; grabbing it, I sliced into the Nazi making abortive attempts to kill me.
"It's revenge of swords, Indiana Jones!"
Blood squirted from the wound and the body lurched onto the desk while I hacked at the spot between his shoulder and neck. After a few hours of exhausting work, I myself had finally calmed.
I glanced back at the body whose blood had stained the side of my desk, my mahogany desk, with a huge, almost rectangular, blotch and which continued to lie there like a freeloader.
"Welp. I wasn't planning on taking care of another one of my blue moon murders today. Guess, I'll have to reschedule with the guys."
2
Then he went back alive like nothing of this has ever happend, and so I went back towards the desk as he opened fire a single shot.
Rummaging sounds of a single gunshot streamed across my eardrums. It went off just above my desk. I was quite in a panic, you see. I hid myself under the desk, rustling my pocket to find weapons - I had none actually. Goddamn it, what have I done to warrant such things threatening my life? I wonder if this man is actually a woman who I sent to jail earlier due to child abuse problems. A mother was anal fisting his own son so he could finally have a third vagina despite already having two vaginas.
Hmm...wait a second. Why do I spend too much time thinking? Is this actually a shounen manga where the time stops when I was deep in thought? Yeah, this must be manga, and I should probably be a ninja who saves the entire village and defeating my opponents by the sheer force of words. Though before I realized it, the Deus ex Machina effect of time stop worn off and I've heard menacing footsteps behind my desk. I've seen his face, with bloody glares trying to kill me, but I've got a plan, so I yelled:
"Nakama! What are you doing? Why do we have to fight! Why must we point the gun at each other! Aren't we best of friends? This facade has no further meaning anymore. Our mothers will be sad, furthermore our parents and our own siblings will cry if this ever comes out, why don't you understand!"
The man who appears to be a woman turned to a man, answered with a shrill voice. "Sniff...sniff....so you do understand me, after all." The heck! I didn't say I understand you, but I stared down at him with comforting glance, and gave him a pat in the shoulder. Slowly but surely I tried to took the gun in his hands while talking himself off.
"We're the best of buddies, we're in it together, there's no need for one of us to die. We could build the entire ninja village back and become the pirate king again." okay, he's off guard, though before I managed to clench the gun, the trigger suddenly exploded and it shot him right through his balls.
In front of me, now lies a man with his balls being shot off. Or should I rephrase, a woman turned into a man that's pretending to be a man turned to woman. That aside, where did he get his balls? Well, I think he got that on the latest rugby match, so I thought.
Rummaging sounds of a single gunshot streamed across my eardrums. It went off just above my desk. I was quite in a panic, you see. I hid myself under the desk, rustling my pocket to find weapons - I had none actually. Goddamn it, what have I done to warrant such things threatening my life? I wonder if this man is actually a woman who I sent to jail earlier due to child abuse problems. A mother was anal fisting his own son so he could finally have a third vagina despite already having two vaginas.
Hmm...wait a second. Why do I spend too much time thinking? Is this actually a shounen manga where the time stops when I was deep in thought? Yeah, this must be manga, and I should probably be a ninja who saves the entire village and defeating my opponents by the sheer force of words. Though before I realized it, the Deus ex Machina effect of time stop worn off and I've heard menacing footsteps behind my desk. I've seen his face, with bloody glares trying to kill me, but I've got a plan, so I yelled:
"Nakama! What are you doing? Why do we have to fight! Why must we point the gun at each other! Aren't we best of friends? This facade has no further meaning anymore. Our mothers will be sad, furthermore our parents and our own siblings will cry if this ever comes out, why don't you understand!"
The man who appears to be a woman turned to a man, answered with a shrill voice. "Sniff...sniff....so you do understand me, after all." The heck! I didn't say I understand you, but I stared down at him with comforting glance, and gave him a pat in the shoulder. Slowly but surely I tried to took the gun in his hands while talking himself off.
"We're the best of buddies, we're in it together, there's no need for one of us to die. We could build the entire ninja village back and become the pirate king again." okay, he's off guard, though before I managed to clench the gun, the trigger suddenly exploded and it shot him right through his balls.
In front of me, now lies a man with his balls being shot off. Or should I rephrase, a woman turned into a man that's pretending to be a man turned to woman. That aside, where did he get his balls? Well, I think he got that on the latest rugby match, so I thought.
2
leonard267
FAKKU Non-Writer
((So many people got here before me! It seems as if I have to write something else instead. Don't worry however, it will still be as nonsensical as the Boring Boy.))
With the sight of a motionless man sprawled on the floor with what remained of his testicles detached and splattered over what is now a mess of an office, I collected myself and ran through my thoughts. "What an evening!", I thought to myself!
A dark hair young bloke who turned out to be a supernatural creature with affiliations to the German National Socialists of the '40s with regenerative and sea cucumber-like sex changing abilities made an attempt on my life with a projectile weapon then turned into one of my alleged friends before I shot him in the crotch. This was just another day in this urban hellhole where dark hair, young vampiric, gender-bending Nazis with regenerative abilities attacking you were commonplace.
With a job like this in a place like that, who needs drugs? Drugs? Drugs?!
I am on drugs aren't I? It seemed to be the case. Now that I mentioned it, the mess is clearing itself up. The dark hair, young vampiric, gender-bending Nazi with regenerative abilities is disappearing. Grounded white powder begun to form on my nostrils and mouth.
That was the worst (and first) high I have ever experienced. I am never going through this 'high time' again! [size=6](Pun very much intended)[/h] I am going to hunt down that person that sold me that L-267 drug. That stupid antidepressant of a drug caused me to have stupid monologues like this, hallucinate s*** and self-censor expletives. That is really going to be an impediment to my work.
Speaking of work, I want to tell you again that my name is Jack Smith and I am working as a private investigator in a very wrenched corner of a crime infested city where murder, kidnappings and graffiti vandalism are headline news! Why don't they mention the prostitution trade though? The prostitutes here force themselves on you and then forcibly take away the contents of your wallet and give you sexually transmitted diseases. More alarming than murders, kidnappings and graffiti if you ask me!
By the way, if you are looking for Private Investigators to do your private investigating, please contact me at 1800-PI-ON-DRUGS. Now, I have to attend to business by sitting on my chair and doing nothing. Is that a knock I hear on the door though?
With the sight of a motionless man sprawled on the floor with what remained of his testicles detached and splattered over what is now a mess of an office, I collected myself and ran through my thoughts. "What an evening!", I thought to myself!
A dark hair young bloke who turned out to be a supernatural creature with affiliations to the German National Socialists of the '40s with regenerative and sea cucumber-like sex changing abilities made an attempt on my life with a projectile weapon then turned into one of my alleged friends before I shot him in the crotch. This was just another day in this urban hellhole where dark hair, young vampiric, gender-bending Nazis with regenerative abilities attacking you were commonplace.
With a job like this in a place like that, who needs drugs? Drugs? Drugs?!
[size=28]DRUGS?![/h]
I am on drugs aren't I? It seemed to be the case. Now that I mentioned it, the mess is clearing itself up. The dark hair, young vampiric, gender-bending Nazi with regenerative abilities is disappearing. Grounded white powder begun to form on my nostrils and mouth.
That was the worst (and first) high I have ever experienced. I am never going through this 'high time' again! [size=6](Pun very much intended)[/h] I am going to hunt down that person that sold me that L-267 drug. That stupid antidepressant of a drug caused me to have stupid monologues like this, hallucinate s*** and self-censor expletives. That is really going to be an impediment to my work.
Speaking of work, I want to tell you again that my name is Jack Smith and I am working as a private investigator in a very wrenched corner of a crime infested city where murder, kidnappings and graffiti vandalism are headline news! Why don't they mention the prostitution trade though? The prostitutes here force themselves on you and then forcibly take away the contents of your wallet and give you sexually transmitted diseases. More alarming than murders, kidnappings and graffiti if you ask me!
By the way, if you are looking for Private Investigators to do your private investigating, please contact me at 1800-PI-ON-DRUGS. Now, I have to attend to business by sitting on my chair and doing nothing. Is that a knock I hear on the door though?
2
Jack's high finally wore off as he felt a sudden thrashing.
"JACK SMITH, YOU OWE ME ONE DRINK!", screamed a tramp holding onto Smith.
"Git offa me foo, you lost the bet", he replied drunkenly.
The cruel bright lights of the city bright shined into the room and upon two junkies fighting over some pocket change. One of the was redheaded an in his twenties, the other a brunette with a beard. It was a common sight in the "ghetto" people so much enjoy brag about coming from.
Jack finally pushed him away and pulled out a gun.
"ONE MORE STEP AND YE GUN DIE!", he claimed.
"You ain't go no bullets lair.", he hollered.
"Don't tempt me boy", Jack threatened.
The redhead froze as Jack took aim at him. A crack went off in the room. Jack stared into the other man in the dark. The redheaded man felt horridly cold and then snapped into reality as he felt a stinging pain come and go.
"Fucker, that's a kiddie pellet gun", he yelled angrily.
The redhead charged at Jack once again in an attempt to take his quarters.
"JACK SMITH, YOU OWE ME ONE DRINK!", screamed a tramp holding onto Smith.
"Git offa me foo, you lost the bet", he replied drunkenly.
The cruel bright lights of the city bright shined into the room and upon two junkies fighting over some pocket change. One of the was redheaded an in his twenties, the other a brunette with a beard. It was a common sight in the "ghetto" people so much enjoy brag about coming from.
Jack finally pushed him away and pulled out a gun.
"ONE MORE STEP AND YE GUN DIE!", he claimed.
"You ain't go no bullets lair.", he hollered.
"Don't tempt me boy", Jack threatened.
The redhead froze as Jack took aim at him. A crack went off in the room. Jack stared into the other man in the dark. The redheaded man felt horridly cold and then snapped into reality as he felt a stinging pain come and go.
"Fucker, that's a kiddie pellet gun", he yelled angrily.
The redhead charged at Jack once again in an attempt to take his quarters.
2
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
The red-head charged, his heart set on it. That proved to be his downfall. I've watched a lot of Chinese fighting films, enough to know the right amount of kung fu to get by as a freelance agent. I stepped to the side and grabbed his arm, slamming him into the ground with the brunt of his own charge against him, putting him in an arm-lock and slipping some cuffs on his wrists. "Ahh, you monster, Jack Smith! I'll get what's mine!"
"That's Detective Jack Smith to you, punk. Enjoy your night on these streets." With that, I left him right there. It pissed me off that I had to waste my last pair of hand cuffs, though. Looks like I'll have to get some more. I better give a visit to my old pal Vinnie.
Vinnie owns a pawn shop just a block away from my office. Fortunately for me, he also has a few more lucrative items for sale a PI like me needs to get the job done. I opened the front door, the small bell above it rang out. "Stay right there you little piece of—Oh, hey there, Jackie. It's only you!" There he was, holding a double-barreled Smith and Wesson right in front of me. Nearly gave me a heart attack, but it's not the first time Vinnie had a gun to my face. Long story.
"Hey, Vinnie. Nice night, huh?" I took out a cigarette and lit up as he lowered his weapon.
"Sorry, Jack. I had a couple punk kids try to come in here with fake IDs earlier, wanted to buy some weapons. Naturally I made 'em piss their pants when I shot at them for refusing to leave." That made me chuckle. Vinnie was never one to mess with.
"Hate to bother you in the middle of the night like this, but I guess we both got nothing better to do. I need more cuffs and you got any good small arms? I need something that packs a bit more punch." Vinnie paced behind his desk and brought out a small case, opened it up to reveal a pretty piece.
"This here nickel-plated .45 might be just what you're looking for, Jackie. I know you need it, and since we're such good friends, I'll throw in a small box of ammo and an extra clip or two, in case you get in a bit of trouble." The way I saw myself reflect off that beautiful body came to me as a sign.
"I'll take it, and don't forget the cuffs." We exchanged goods and I made my way out of there. "See ya, Vinnie, and say hello to the Mrs. for me, will ya?"
I took my leave, though the night was still young.
"That's Detective Jack Smith to you, punk. Enjoy your night on these streets." With that, I left him right there. It pissed me off that I had to waste my last pair of hand cuffs, though. Looks like I'll have to get some more. I better give a visit to my old pal Vinnie.
Vinnie owns a pawn shop just a block away from my office. Fortunately for me, he also has a few more lucrative items for sale a PI like me needs to get the job done. I opened the front door, the small bell above it rang out. "Stay right there you little piece of—Oh, hey there, Jackie. It's only you!" There he was, holding a double-barreled Smith and Wesson right in front of me. Nearly gave me a heart attack, but it's not the first time Vinnie had a gun to my face. Long story.
"Hey, Vinnie. Nice night, huh?" I took out a cigarette and lit up as he lowered his weapon.
"Sorry, Jack. I had a couple punk kids try to come in here with fake IDs earlier, wanted to buy some weapons. Naturally I made 'em piss their pants when I shot at them for refusing to leave." That made me chuckle. Vinnie was never one to mess with.
"Hate to bother you in the middle of the night like this, but I guess we both got nothing better to do. I need more cuffs and you got any good small arms? I need something that packs a bit more punch." Vinnie paced behind his desk and brought out a small case, opened it up to reveal a pretty piece.
"This here nickel-plated .45 might be just what you're looking for, Jackie. I know you need it, and since we're such good friends, I'll throw in a small box of ammo and an extra clip or two, in case you get in a bit of trouble." The way I saw myself reflect off that beautiful body came to me as a sign.
"I'll take it, and don't forget the cuffs." We exchanged goods and I made my way out of there. "See ya, Vinnie, and say hello to the Mrs. for me, will ya?"
I took my leave, though the night was still young.
2
Cinia Pacifica
Ojou-sama Writer
Going past the streets outside; I strolled with my hands dipped into the pockets of my coat. What to do now? I thought. A city I could hardly leave alone due to all the junk and trash it accumulated over the years. With my office wrecked the way it is; I wouldn’t get a client any time soon. I’m hardly in a mood to just move my butt back to it and sit down on a damned chair full of gunshot holes. Screw that. If anything, I got this nice little baby here at least, I thought to myself – looking at the firearm Vinnie gave me to pacify myself. I couldn’t think of anything better to do. Poking the alleys for punks just didn’t feel like my thing. Well, it never was, anyway; I’m a private detective. I walk with such thoughts, not quite sure how to spend my time. That’s when I thought of a brilliant idea. Drink. I need to get a drink. No, not cola. Who the hell gets cola at a time like this, anyway? I want a glass of wine. Those beautiful, exotic drinks that shine luminously under the dim lights of a bar. With that, my legs undoubtedly knew where to carry me next. It wouldn’t want to take me anywhere else for tonight, it seems. And so I hit up a bar. One that I was familiar with. It wasn’t so far away, either. After taking a walk for around twenty-something minutes – I clinked the door wide open, and approached a chair to take a sit. With a single glance; I note how there weren’t any customers around now, other than me. I felt bad for the business, yet I couldn’t help but feel lucky, for some reason. The bartender – as always – was busy rubbing his fine edges of the glass stemware he held over his hands. The wine glass was sparkly clean already – from what I could see.
“The usual,” I say to the bartender. He gives a silent nod in return before pulling out a bottle to provide the drink. Taking a swig of the marvelous drink. I sigh. I sigh hard, dropping the glass before me. This was indeed the best choice I’ve made tonight. After another round, there was yet another series of ringing noises as the door cracked open. Well, the night is still young. Customers are supposed to come here at such times. Nothing to feel bad about; I think to myself. Its too lonely here with the bartender who tends to act like a true professional by being silent, anyway. Well, too silent, if anything. As if like a ghost. The other customer takes a seat beside me.
“The usual,” she says.
Wait, she? Feeling tentative; I take a glimpse of the lass beside me. Fair skinned and pretty. Her blonde hair was long, and wavy. Her face was a porcelain wonder, accompanied by a small nose, lips, and a dazzling pair of bright blue eyes. Her white dress would make her stand out like sore thumb anywhere in the city. Beautiful was a word meant to be used for her. Who’d dress up like that at the dead of night – in such a city, though? A princess? Why here of all places? The faint air of wealth exuded from her so clearly. I took another swig from the glass of wine, as if to ignore the source of trouble beside me. I didn’t feel like bothering to care with such a mood… but then, why was it that I felt like I couldn’t leave such a fine lady alone in a damned city such as this? Such conflicting feelings! The fair young lady seemed to have just had her drink served to her. That wine seemed at least thrice more expensive than mine. God damn it. As she grips the wine glass with her slender arms clad in white long gloves – I turn to compliment her good taste. I couldn’t help but wanting to do so. It was indeed a fabulous choice.
“Fine taste you have here, Ma’am.”
...Only to find a gun – dimly shining under the light of the bar – pointed to my forehead. For real…? My body freeze. It was far too close. The lady sipped her drink coolly, and casually. She was well composed. What lied behind the glass full of ice cubes and exotic drink was the smile of a devil. She didn’t speak. The glint of grin made me feel a chill to my spine, right down to my very balls. Without a thought, I flip out my new little piece in lightning speed, and up to her head. I couldn't stay still for too long. I’d be damned if she shot by now, but she didn’t. There must’ve been a reason for that. I didn’t have the time to ponder about it, however. Seemingly unfazed, she retracted her weapon, and put it away.
“Jack Smith, yes? You seem to be as fearless as they say,” she said. “Albeit, I am slightly disappointed.” In my defense, I was tempted to retort by saying that she was too charming for me to react faster to, but I don’t dare reply while she is apparently undone in her speech.
“I got a job,” she said. Now she was talking, finally. It was music to my ears. “There’s a man I need you to hunt down; a serial killer who took refuge here recently,” she continued. “Up for it?”
I crack up a smile. “I don’t come cheap.”
“The usual,” I say to the bartender. He gives a silent nod in return before pulling out a bottle to provide the drink. Taking a swig of the marvelous drink. I sigh. I sigh hard, dropping the glass before me. This was indeed the best choice I’ve made tonight. After another round, there was yet another series of ringing noises as the door cracked open. Well, the night is still young. Customers are supposed to come here at such times. Nothing to feel bad about; I think to myself. Its too lonely here with the bartender who tends to act like a true professional by being silent, anyway. Well, too silent, if anything. As if like a ghost. The other customer takes a seat beside me.
“The usual,” she says.
Wait, she? Feeling tentative; I take a glimpse of the lass beside me. Fair skinned and pretty. Her blonde hair was long, and wavy. Her face was a porcelain wonder, accompanied by a small nose, lips, and a dazzling pair of bright blue eyes. Her white dress would make her stand out like sore thumb anywhere in the city. Beautiful was a word meant to be used for her. Who’d dress up like that at the dead of night – in such a city, though? A princess? Why here of all places? The faint air of wealth exuded from her so clearly. I took another swig from the glass of wine, as if to ignore the source of trouble beside me. I didn’t feel like bothering to care with such a mood… but then, why was it that I felt like I couldn’t leave such a fine lady alone in a damned city such as this? Such conflicting feelings! The fair young lady seemed to have just had her drink served to her. That wine seemed at least thrice more expensive than mine. God damn it. As she grips the wine glass with her slender arms clad in white long gloves – I turn to compliment her good taste. I couldn’t help but wanting to do so. It was indeed a fabulous choice.
“Fine taste you have here, Ma’am.”
...Only to find a gun – dimly shining under the light of the bar – pointed to my forehead. For real…? My body freeze. It was far too close. The lady sipped her drink coolly, and casually. She was well composed. What lied behind the glass full of ice cubes and exotic drink was the smile of a devil. She didn’t speak. The glint of grin made me feel a chill to my spine, right down to my very balls. Without a thought, I flip out my new little piece in lightning speed, and up to her head. I couldn't stay still for too long. I’d be damned if she shot by now, but she didn’t. There must’ve been a reason for that. I didn’t have the time to ponder about it, however. Seemingly unfazed, she retracted her weapon, and put it away.
“Jack Smith, yes? You seem to be as fearless as they say,” she said. “Albeit, I am slightly disappointed.” In my defense, I was tempted to retort by saying that she was too charming for me to react faster to, but I don’t dare reply while she is apparently undone in her speech.
“I got a job,” she said. Now she was talking, finally. It was music to my ears. “There’s a man I need you to hunt down; a serial killer who took refuge here recently,” she continued. “Up for it?”
I crack up a smile. “I don’t come cheap.”
2
Shark smiles coming up to her face, a cold hell-hole grin which slaughtered many victims in its aftermath. This isn't going to be all that good, but I got to keep my poker face and confide to my clients' needs. That's how it means to be a professional. It doesn't change the thing, something ominous lurking beneath an ethereal beauty. I've gotta get to the bottom of this.
"Jacqueline the Ripper." she quietly spoke, subdued tone of refinement she wore, an intense bewilderment I can spot as she continued, "Killed several of my precious boys. I never hated someone as much as that woman. Reappear and disappear like a ghastly figure. The targets, always young and attractive males. Gruesomely torn off and mutilated---it's so disgusting."
I ain't got much concern if it targets males, though I decided to pretend that I care and ask the lady anyway.
"Sorry to break in through, milady, but if I may ask--what kind of establishment do you own?"
"Something to cater around fine, refined, lonely ladies at night. Everything was well until few of my boys went missing. It wasn't until I witnessed my precious Kanata being murdered in front of my eyes, and I saw the killer's stare--I just---I can't."
"Calm down, milady. What just happened?"
"Let's talk about this in a more private place." she said, as she led me through the bar's backroom.
Still keeping my guard, I followed her into the back, leading towards a wine cellar. The bar staffs didn't seem to mind, strangely enough.
Before me lies stack barrels with the strong scent of wine in addition of dusty floors and dim illumination. The fair lady somehow relaxed her glance, though her melancholy and anguish persist.
Her muffled, restrained tone, spoke more about the weight of the situation more than anything else:
"It all happened around a week ago..."
"Jacqueline the Ripper." she quietly spoke, subdued tone of refinement she wore, an intense bewilderment I can spot as she continued, "Killed several of my precious boys. I never hated someone as much as that woman. Reappear and disappear like a ghastly figure. The targets, always young and attractive males. Gruesomely torn off and mutilated---it's so disgusting."
I ain't got much concern if it targets males, though I decided to pretend that I care and ask the lady anyway.
"Sorry to break in through, milady, but if I may ask--what kind of establishment do you own?"
"Something to cater around fine, refined, lonely ladies at night. Everything was well until few of my boys went missing. It wasn't until I witnessed my precious Kanata being murdered in front of my eyes, and I saw the killer's stare--I just---I can't."
"Calm down, milady. What just happened?"
"Let's talk about this in a more private place." she said, as she led me through the bar's backroom.
Still keeping my guard, I followed her into the back, leading towards a wine cellar. The bar staffs didn't seem to mind, strangely enough.
Before me lies stack barrels with the strong scent of wine in addition of dusty floors and dim illumination. The fair lady somehow relaxed her glance, though her melancholy and anguish persist.
Her muffled, restrained tone, spoke more about the weight of the situation more than anything else:
"It all happened around a week ago..."
2
"Lady Amber ran the best escort joint in town, or so they said. Her prices may have been exorbitant, but you got what you paid for. A classy woman seeking company for the night need look no further. It was by no stretch of the imagination that Lady Amber was well off. She was sleeping fitfully in bed one night when the pounding began at the door of her manor.
"'Who the fuck could that be?' she mumbled as she stirred awake. Whoever it was could come back in the morning.
"But the knocking persisted. At last she had had enough. She got up and threw on her robe. She liked to sleep naked, and she wasn't about to give this bastard the pleasure of a free look. She stomped down the hall to the foyer, taking her sweet time. There was one more bang at the door, and then it stopped. She suddenly wished she had brought her gun with her.
"Lady Amber turned on the lights. She stared at the door. What the hell were they playing at? She crossed the foyer to the door cautiously. She put her eye to the peep hole. Nothing. She could have turned back and gotten a full night's rest, but something stopped her. It had her in it's sinister grip and wouldn't let go. Sweat slid down her face. How long had she been standing there?
"Mustering her courage, she turned the lock and threw the door open. At the end of the walkway from the sidewalk stood a woman wrapped in shadows and wearing an opera mask. The woman took off running into the night. The mangled body lay on her porch. What was left of it that is. Lady Amber screamed. She would not be getting any more sleep that night."
Having finished retelling the story I got last night at the bar, I closed my casebook with a snap of crisp paper. My good friend Johnny looked up at me from his breakfast of steaming hotcakes. Knife and fork scraped on plate elsewhere in the diner.
"Well?" I said. "Could be the case of my career."
Johnny took a bite and added more maple syrup. "You are so going to get yourself murdered."
"Come on! Don't you have any faith in me?"
Johnny chewed thoughtfully on another mouthful of pancake. "No."
"I found your dog that one time, didn't I?"
"Yeah. After it got hit by a car. And what does that have to do with a slasher?"
"'Who the fuck could that be?' she mumbled as she stirred awake. Whoever it was could come back in the morning.
"But the knocking persisted. At last she had had enough. She got up and threw on her robe. She liked to sleep naked, and she wasn't about to give this bastard the pleasure of a free look. She stomped down the hall to the foyer, taking her sweet time. There was one more bang at the door, and then it stopped. She suddenly wished she had brought her gun with her.
"Lady Amber turned on the lights. She stared at the door. What the hell were they playing at? She crossed the foyer to the door cautiously. She put her eye to the peep hole. Nothing. She could have turned back and gotten a full night's rest, but something stopped her. It had her in it's sinister grip and wouldn't let go. Sweat slid down her face. How long had she been standing there?
"Mustering her courage, she turned the lock and threw the door open. At the end of the walkway from the sidewalk stood a woman wrapped in shadows and wearing an opera mask. The woman took off running into the night. The mangled body lay on her porch. What was left of it that is. Lady Amber screamed. She would not be getting any more sleep that night."
Having finished retelling the story I got last night at the bar, I closed my casebook with a snap of crisp paper. My good friend Johnny looked up at me from his breakfast of steaming hotcakes. Knife and fork scraped on plate elsewhere in the diner.
"Well?" I said. "Could be the case of my career."
Johnny took a bite and added more maple syrup. "You are so going to get yourself murdered."
"Come on! Don't you have any faith in me?"
Johnny chewed thoughtfully on another mouthful of pancake. "No."
"I found your dog that one time, didn't I?"
"Yeah. After it got hit by a car. And what does that have to do with a slasher?"
2
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
I flipped through my notepad, surveying the woman's testimony and reviewing a few sample drawings of things she had seen and described. Something was not quite right, though. I looked at the amateurishly traced image of the opera mask, at least the woman's memories of how it looked.
"Hey, Johnny. Give me that paper a second." I snatched it right from under his nose, his jaw gnashing the freshly cut three-stack slice.
"Hey, I'm reading that!" he scolded as I flipped through the pages.
"This'll just take a second, I know I've seen this before..." My eyes opened wide from what I had just discovered. "Found it!" A small grin grew on my face as Johnny leaned over, trying to read the bold headline upside-down.
'STOLEN ANTIQUE MASK WHEREABOUTS STILL UNKNOWN,' the headline read, a picture of the mask immediately under. It was pasty white with hand-painted swirls of purple and pink. Jewels adorned its sides. Three bird feathers, undoubtedly rare, protruded from the edge. "Now, you don't think..." Johnny looked up at me as I placed my notepad picture of the mask right next to the one in the newspaper. Not exactly how I imagined it from her description, but similar enough to give me a lead.
"It's likely no coincidence, Johnny. And now, I think I know where to go next: The Sundown Stallion." Johnny shook his head in disbelief.
"What does getting a man-whore have to do with a stolen mask?" My grin remained.
"There's one man who works there: Michael, or Michelle as he prefers. He may work in the burlesque house, but he's also a contact for the black-market. A lot of antique goods acquired from less-than-legal means often exchange hands with him."
"Look, Jack. That man...tranny...person, who may or may not have both a penis and a vagina in secret. I doubt he'll know much. And even if he does, I don't think he'll cooperate with you so easily," Johnny exhaled between slices of pancakes.
"Oh, that's where it gets interesting, Johnny." I flipped a few more pages in the newspaper and held it up so it wasn't upside-down for him.
'ANOTHER NIGHT ESCORT FOUND MURDERED,' I read him the best bit. "Streetwalker was found murdered on the porch of Lady Amber's residence. The body was found stabbed and sliced up mercilessly. The initials 'JR' were found carved onto the victims' genitalia that was separated from the body. Police still have no leads...But I think he might know a thing or two I can use. A lot of his worker friends have been murdered by Jacqueline. He'd probably not like to be next, and we go back. He owes me so he might even offer me compensation as well."
"Yeah...Of the sexual kind," Johnny mumbled to himself before finishing the last slice. We paid our tab, exchanged a few more words, and said our goodbyes. I would waste no more time, it was off to the Red-light district.
"Hey, Johnny. Give me that paper a second." I snatched it right from under his nose, his jaw gnashing the freshly cut three-stack slice.
"Hey, I'm reading that!" he scolded as I flipped through the pages.
"This'll just take a second, I know I've seen this before..." My eyes opened wide from what I had just discovered. "Found it!" A small grin grew on my face as Johnny leaned over, trying to read the bold headline upside-down.
'STOLEN ANTIQUE MASK WHEREABOUTS STILL UNKNOWN,' the headline read, a picture of the mask immediately under. It was pasty white with hand-painted swirls of purple and pink. Jewels adorned its sides. Three bird feathers, undoubtedly rare, protruded from the edge. "Now, you don't think..." Johnny looked up at me as I placed my notepad picture of the mask right next to the one in the newspaper. Not exactly how I imagined it from her description, but similar enough to give me a lead.
"It's likely no coincidence, Johnny. And now, I think I know where to go next: The Sundown Stallion." Johnny shook his head in disbelief.
"What does getting a man-whore have to do with a stolen mask?" My grin remained.
"There's one man who works there: Michael, or Michelle as he prefers. He may work in the burlesque house, but he's also a contact for the black-market. A lot of antique goods acquired from less-than-legal means often exchange hands with him."
"Look, Jack. That man...tranny...person, who may or may not have both a penis and a vagina in secret. I doubt he'll know much. And even if he does, I don't think he'll cooperate with you so easily," Johnny exhaled between slices of pancakes.
"Oh, that's where it gets interesting, Johnny." I flipped a few more pages in the newspaper and held it up so it wasn't upside-down for him.
'ANOTHER NIGHT ESCORT FOUND MURDERED,' I read him the best bit. "Streetwalker was found murdered on the porch of Lady Amber's residence. The body was found stabbed and sliced up mercilessly. The initials 'JR' were found carved onto the victims' genitalia that was separated from the body. Police still have no leads...But I think he might know a thing or two I can use. A lot of his worker friends have been murdered by Jacqueline. He'd probably not like to be next, and we go back. He owes me so he might even offer me compensation as well."
"Yeah...Of the sexual kind," Johnny mumbled to himself before finishing the last slice. We paid our tab, exchanged a few more words, and said our goodbyes. I would waste no more time, it was off to the Red-light district.
2
(OT: well Xenon, from what I've read, Jacqueline's not really implied to be a hermaphrodite or such. it's just, that the man Jack is meeting is a tranny and he seems to know some valuable information about Jacqueline's mask, which in turn would help him trace her whereabouts and find the culprit.)
With perverted thoughts swirling about boning up the fair lady mixed up with his immaculate attractions for trannies and hermaphrodites, Jake went off to the red-light district where Michael or Michelle works, we might wanna shorten it into Mitch or Misty in the meantime.
The district was filled with plethora of scent from deliriously thick sweet perfume scent which made you somewhat puke, to the swirling smell of alcohol, garbage, and even burnt tires or even faint gust of drugs and feces. A considerable activity of hippies and other deranged lunatics seem to prowl here, which Jake didn't seem to like all that much, especially due to hippies, whose intimidation urges Jake to swallow his drugs which seem to slow down time and made his adrenaline burst--just like Max Payne, a constipated super cop.
Jake was undoubtedly awkward and nervous, whilst walking around in such seedy and conspicuous place filled with unpleasant company. He lit up his cigar and wobbled up past several trap boys wearing maid outfit which caused him to rise up a boner as his genitals somehow collided with one of the boys. The boy had lengthy blue hair, which is quite abnormal, and cerulean eyes, which is even more abnormal. Jake questions his sanity which has been drained from watching too much anime, until he reflexively grabbed the boy's penis from behind after tailing him into a secluded alley for about thirty minutes walk.
The boy seems to be inviting him, rather than Jake being skillful enough to trail him without hitch. His breathing becomes quite sensual with muffled high-pitched moaning, and he wrapped his arms around Jake as he tried seducing the poor curious detective with his feminine charms seemingly straight out of anime series. As Jake's boner reached its maximum size along with the boy's erection causing him to realize that this girly creature actually had a penis twice his length, despite having an anime character look and the kind of perfect moe voice. It quite shocked him, but it also made him grew even hornier.
Whilst wrapping around his arms around Jake, and started rubbing in weird places, he whispered to Jake, in a really tempting moe character voice:
"Wanna do it?"
That instant, Jake forgot something, it's about his premature ejaculation. It caused him to cum so hard he wet his pants, and wet the boy's skirt too. The situation becomes quite awkward when the boy pulled his handkerchief and wants to wipe Jake's genitals. Jake kinda sobered up after ejaculating lots, so he finally regained his senses--in which he flat out refused the boy.
Though, before the boy went really disappointed and left, Jake yells out some question:
"Do you know some ac/dc person by name of Mitch, Michael, Michelle, or even Madam Misty? He/she/it seems to run an antique candy shop, know something 'bout it?"
The tone suddenly changes:
"State your business, mister." the moe character voice becomes quite sharp and lowered, whilst still enchanting and charming.
"What do you mean?" Jake inquired.
"You're stepping your foot outside a playground, mister. I don't know whether you're with in the police or not, but if that's the case, I'm afraid I'm gonna eliminate you here and now."
"Easy man, easy. My client's one of you guys. She got her precious boys murdered by some psychotic woman, or so I've heard. I somehow knew where to meet this Mitch person, the Sundown Stallion, but you know, this place is more wicked in routes I lost my way. I figured you might know."
"In that case, you'd better forget about it."
"Why?"
"Misty's been murdered last night. The police's crowding all over the place due to the mess caused by that Jacqueline woman."
"Shit...."
One of his leads are now gone.
Guess it's not so easy been a private detective, in this case especially. Though, his resolve is not gone.
"Still, I would like to know about Jacqueline's mask and its origins. I wanna trace the whereabouts of the killer."
To which the boy replied:
"Learn to use Google. I'm through with ya."
After the boy left, Jake got a phone call from Johnny. He gave Jake a link to a wikipedia article about the mask but Jake doesn't seem all that able to use a computer. So Jake asked Johnny to send a summary. It mentioned something about a historical museum, the mask being stolen and so forth. It's originally used for some 'Phantom of the Opera' show way back, and it holds a valuable historic value.
Not satisfied with just that, and Johnny being out of leads, Jake decided to stroll around the district a bit before gathering more information. Though, there's one thing he need to personally clarify...
To Sundown Stallion.
With perverted thoughts swirling about boning up the fair lady mixed up with his immaculate attractions for trannies and hermaphrodites, Jake went off to the red-light district where Michael or Michelle works, we might wanna shorten it into Mitch or Misty in the meantime.
The district was filled with plethora of scent from deliriously thick sweet perfume scent which made you somewhat puke, to the swirling smell of alcohol, garbage, and even burnt tires or even faint gust of drugs and feces. A considerable activity of hippies and other deranged lunatics seem to prowl here, which Jake didn't seem to like all that much, especially due to hippies, whose intimidation urges Jake to swallow his drugs which seem to slow down time and made his adrenaline burst--just like Max Payne, a constipated super cop.
Jake was undoubtedly awkward and nervous, whilst walking around in such seedy and conspicuous place filled with unpleasant company. He lit up his cigar and wobbled up past several trap boys wearing maid outfit which caused him to rise up a boner as his genitals somehow collided with one of the boys. The boy had lengthy blue hair, which is quite abnormal, and cerulean eyes, which is even more abnormal. Jake questions his sanity which has been drained from watching too much anime, until he reflexively grabbed the boy's penis from behind after tailing him into a secluded alley for about thirty minutes walk.
The boy seems to be inviting him, rather than Jake being skillful enough to trail him without hitch. His breathing becomes quite sensual with muffled high-pitched moaning, and he wrapped his arms around Jake as he tried seducing the poor curious detective with his feminine charms seemingly straight out of anime series. As Jake's boner reached its maximum size along with the boy's erection causing him to realize that this girly creature actually had a penis twice his length, despite having an anime character look and the kind of perfect moe voice. It quite shocked him, but it also made him grew even hornier.
Whilst wrapping around his arms around Jake, and started rubbing in weird places, he whispered to Jake, in a really tempting moe character voice:
"Wanna do it?"
That instant, Jake forgot something, it's about his premature ejaculation. It caused him to cum so hard he wet his pants, and wet the boy's skirt too. The situation becomes quite awkward when the boy pulled his handkerchief and wants to wipe Jake's genitals. Jake kinda sobered up after ejaculating lots, so he finally regained his senses--in which he flat out refused the boy.
Though, before the boy went really disappointed and left, Jake yells out some question:
"Do you know some ac/dc person by name of Mitch, Michael, Michelle, or even Madam Misty? He/she/it seems to run an antique candy shop, know something 'bout it?"
The tone suddenly changes:
"State your business, mister." the moe character voice becomes quite sharp and lowered, whilst still enchanting and charming.
"What do you mean?" Jake inquired.
"You're stepping your foot outside a playground, mister. I don't know whether you're with in the police or not, but if that's the case, I'm afraid I'm gonna eliminate you here and now."
"Easy man, easy. My client's one of you guys. She got her precious boys murdered by some psychotic woman, or so I've heard. I somehow knew where to meet this Mitch person, the Sundown Stallion, but you know, this place is more wicked in routes I lost my way. I figured you might know."
"In that case, you'd better forget about it."
"Why?"
"Misty's been murdered last night. The police's crowding all over the place due to the mess caused by that Jacqueline woman."
"Shit...."
One of his leads are now gone.
Guess it's not so easy been a private detective, in this case especially. Though, his resolve is not gone.
"Still, I would like to know about Jacqueline's mask and its origins. I wanna trace the whereabouts of the killer."
To which the boy replied:
"Learn to use Google. I'm through with ya."
After the boy left, Jake got a phone call from Johnny. He gave Jake a link to a wikipedia article about the mask but Jake doesn't seem all that able to use a computer. So Jake asked Johnny to send a summary. It mentioned something about a historical museum, the mask being stolen and so forth. It's originally used for some 'Phantom of the Opera' show way back, and it holds a valuable historic value.
Not satisfied with just that, and Johnny being out of leads, Jake decided to stroll around the district a bit before gathering more information. Though, there's one thing he need to personally clarify...
To Sundown Stallion.