Well, it's been a while since I subjected anything to you all, but with good reason. This is a story idea I have been concocting for several months now, but wasn't entirely sure on how to format it. But I think I finally have it down, so, here goes.
Aether Snap
By
Andrew Woollard
AKA Adversarius.
Alone in my office I sat, leaning back on two legs of my chair against blank stone wall, listening to the torrents of rain against the windows. My usually trusty, but now empty flask lay on my desk, just out of my reach, taunting me. Damn flask.
It wouldn't matter if I could reach it anyway, it would just end up telling me what I already knew. It was time to go to the corner store for more scotch.
But with what? I'd used up the last of my money from the prior case on rent and new hat to cover my eyes while sleeping in my office. Damn land-lord. Raising my rent because of Communist bullshit, like "inflation."
Money's a load a crap anyway. If I could just go back to a simpler time when crime-solving was a highly honorific profession, I would.
Get free housing and all the sauce I could drown my problems away in.
I was like a combination of Iron Man and Batman. And it was a dangerous combination. I was living on the edge every waking moment ... and also when I was asleep, 'cause I could choke on my vomit while dreaming of sweet nothings, like drinking.
That would have sucked, I'd solved many a tough case, fought many a tough foe, and risked my life more times than I could care to remember. If I died in my sleep because I got too hammered and gagged, I'd've felt like a total loser. Damn me.
Just average ol' me, washed up Malcolm Creeve. Former officer for Gothametropolis PD, and detective for hire for several years after that.
The great crime solving illusionist. I was starting to wish for a bottle of scotch right about then to drown out the recurring memories...
But that's when she walked in. Although it wasn't really a walk, so much as it was a kicking in of my door and flurry of stomping her talons on my floor. A Goddamned harpy, just what I needed.
She sat down in the chair on the opposite side of my desk, her scaled and feathery arms revealed slightly from beneath the sleeves of her overcoat.
"What the hell do you want, damn it?" I barked in my gruff tone of distain, reserved for people making a ton of noise during my hang-overs.
"I'm here to offer you a job, you piece of trash." Her feathered eyebrows furrowed.
"A giant cat try to eat you and you want me to investigate?" I chuckled at my own joke.
"Not exactly." She brushed off the verbal assault like a pro. I was intrigued. "I am the secretary of Chioke Akil, the recently, and first ever, elected Prime Minister of Yavimaya, a newly democratic Afrikan nation."
"I see, so someone got killed, and I have to find out who done it?" I clenched my eyes shut, I already knew this was gonna be trouble, and I hadn't even accepted the case yet. Damn foreign affairs.
"Again, not exactly." She slid the folder across the desk. Then she spoke again. "Our country had been the breeding grounds of much anti-meta-human sentimentalism during the prior regime that was in place. A lot of that changed thanks to the help of The Comission's less than subtle tactics, and some anonymous funding which we believe came from the Lair Legion, whom we are eternally indebted to. However, some factions who supported the previous regime have not taken a liking to the new meta-human Prime Minister, and are more than reluctant to see him make a peace for humans and metas. I would like to hire you to find those that may wish to be assasinating him in the Eastern Seabord section of your country, more specifically, right here in Gothametropolis."
Just what I needed, a case about some conspiracy. These never ended well. Damn it.
I tilted forward, bringing the four legs of my chair to the ground and leaned onto my desk, supporting myself with my elbows. "Alright, and let's suppose I actually take on this case, and hypothetically discover the group that might be making this attack at some unspecified time and at some unspecified place in Gothametropolis or Parodopolis, what do you want me to do? I'm just some old drunk that used to be a note worthy detective, but that was a decade ago. Isn't this something better suited for people like the Lair Legion or or The Commision?"
She grimaced slightly, her bird like features contorting beneath the shadow of the hat used to hide her meta-human face. "Well, the Lair Legion was our first choice, but we were worried that conspiracy isn't their game, they don't take those kinds of matters into their hands. Besides, even if they did, to ensure protection, they'd have to put the Prime Minister under constant watch and possible isolation till it was resolved, and that would create instability back at home. Just what the terrorists want. As for the Comission ... well, we'd really just rather not have them come back if it could be avoided."
Well, I wasn't gonna like it no matter which way it went, this case was bad news. Odds were that the terrorists already knew she was looking for someone, and I would probably get dragged into it no matter what. I openned the manilla folder and looked at the several documents along with a pre-written, unsigned check for $200,000. But this was more than enough incentive to keep me on the case if I was gonna get pulled into this web of crap anyway. Damn money.
"Lady, you have yourself a detective, I'll go over the files and see what I can find, then see where I can go to start my search." I tipped my hat to her and she smiled a toothy smile.
"Very good detective, I had to ask around, and many people say you used to be the best. I hope you can live up to your old reputation." She signed the check and rose from her seat, then began to walk to the door, talons tapping heavily on the wooden floor. The now scratched wooden floor. Goddamn harpy.
The door closed heavily behind her and I tipped my hat back over my eyes a reached for my flask, the thought crossed my mind; 'This was gonna be one hell of a case.' I raised the metal container to my lips. Not even a damn drop.
After hitting the bank, the next place I stopped was the liquor store around the corner.
The owner, whom I knew well, was sweeping behind the counter, business seemed unusually slow. "Sorry Mac. In honor of the Committed Nations' summit meeting this week here in Gothametropolis, the police are cracking down on alcohol to make sure all the meta-weirdo's don't come to just any corner store to down a bottle of courage before deciding to make some attempt to take over the world's most influential people. Gothametropolis is a dry-town this week."
Goddamn it...
As if this week couldn't seem to get any worse, this had to happen. I sighed and exited the store, looking at the storm clouds that had suddenly moved on while I was talking with my new client, and were returning as if to say the calm before the storm was already over for me.
Well, if I couldn't get sauce, I was off to the next stop to stock up on ammo, the local hobbie shop.
My powers made me feel so lame some times. I mean, making illusions is one thing, but being forced to use already existent images which had to be portable, unfortunately resulting in collectible trading cards as my best source, was a total insult compared to what I'd seen other illusion masters doing. They could all just use their imaginations, lucky bastards. I needed something to focus on, what a fucking joke. Well I wasn't laughing, damn it.
And as if that weren't bad enough, I was still a man in his mid-forties buying cards at a comics shop full of teenagers. I must look like a total loser. It's like college all over again...
As as entered, I was accosted by a hideous meta-human, it's face spotted with pus spewing craters an- ... Wait, nevermind, he was just some acne ridden punk now that I think back, offering me a flier for 50% off all comics that were being ruined by the fiscally irresponsible creators turning them into movies. Goddamn sellouts.
But this was a hurry, I had no time for jibba jabba or punching nerds, I had work. "Ok Hank, I'm gonna need some of the best damn cards you got, I got a ton of money, and I ain't afraid to use it."
"Don't waste my time Malcolm. You never have money, and you reek, get out of my store before I call the cops. I'm not gonna tolerate your constant window shopping."
I layed down a stack of some of the money. Hank immediately brought over the binders of all the best singles they had in stock.
Now we were talking. Making the unreal into real was a difficult task, and required a ridiculous amount of psionic energy, so I had to pick my cards carefully, picking something frivilous would just result in a waste of stamina. I sighed heavily. And I couldn't have just been a mind reader? I got gypped in the powers medium.
Once I was done with the card selections, I had several decks ready to go, should I run into variant kinds of opposition. Well, at least day was starting to look up.
A thunder clap shook the air and rain began smattering down again.
"Hank, looks like I'm gonna need plastic card cases." This was gonna be one hell of a week.
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