World in Noir: A Devilish Beginning

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
Tie-in to World in Noir and for The Novelist's contest.

Submitted: August 10, 2012

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Submitted: August 10, 2012

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Aaron Wilson's Official Report:

As per the recent hellish scandal, I am now told to give a report about what happened in my investigations. Goddamn politics, always makes work so motherf***ing slow. Well, how do I begin?

It all began sometime three weeks ago. I was sitting in the same old broken down warehouse, left the same directions on the wall near the pizzarea nearby. Still getting complaints from the owners that it's illegal to use blood as paint, and to paint on the walls. But to hell with the law, 'cause the damn mayor ain't exactly the poster boy of peace. More like the face of everything damn wrong about this backwater, piece of shit town. Anyways, all I did was read the same old shit in the news, holding ol' Pops, my Colt Python, named after the asshole who ruined my life. Why? It helped me ruin a whole lot more lives. Also with me were Garcia and Pedro, my trusty knuckledusters, basically two brass knuckles each with a small knife, and a damn cool small revolver when I unhunged it. I named them after the guys who saved my soul and life in the Afghanistan War. Haven't heard from them in a while.

I heard the big door on the warehouse open, and I saw Police Chief Pearson. Pearson was a fat, old, lazy bum with a bar mustache and a short size. He got the job after his years of service during his glory days. He got lazy, and forgot what a real cop was supposed to be. As did most cops, still payed in the thousands by the mayor to keep their mouths shut and their badges hidden whenever he needed to keep his image clean. Disappointing, but at least I got to do my brand of justice. "Well, old man Pearson, still chomping down those burgers?" He glared at me. "You watch your tongue, son, I may be old and broken but I still got an authority!" "I got nothing holding me down, Pearson. Remember? I still am a cop, in a way, and my justice is sound." "Sound?! You found three suspects, SUSPECTS I might add, and beat all three of them into bloodstains!" "Hey, they all pleaded guilty right?" "You nearly lost us our criminals! All because you wanted to make a point..."

"You got something useful, Pearson, or are you gonna waste your spit?" I demanded. He shot me another look, and threw a folder, within it was a bunch of pictures of murdered teens, a picture of a Japanese comic cover (mangas right?) of a pilot, I think, and a robot with the title "ELECTRONIC DEVILS UNLIMITED!!!", and a few reports. "There's been a rise in murders recently. Apparently, all witnesses claimed five cosplayers in robot suits were found fleeing the crime scene of this (he pointed to a pic of a muscled kid with brown hair) vic." "So? People flee all the time." "Yeah, that's what we thought, but they were spotted fleeing all the other ones too." I loked at him, surprised, and looked at the comic cover. "So, why the Asian drawing?" "They were all spotted wearing the same kinds of costumes in those comics." Hah, fanboys, so overbearing and odd. "Any suspects?" "Oh no, not anymore. This time you will be finding your own!" I walked out of the warehouse with a smile on my face. On my own? Finally, some fun.

Walking around, I was thinking of Claire, my French half-sister. When I was three, mom separated from Pops, blaming me for it. After that, my old man kept beating the hell outta me. Around five, Pops was remarried, and to my rotten luck he found an equally cruel French broad, and out of their loud "parties", I got Claire. Unlike my dad or both my moms, she was an angel, even as a baby. I was the one taking care of her, 'cause the broad and the dick were both either out partying or hurting some innocent kid. I still remember whenever Claire got into trouble, I would say it was me, to minimize her pain. I heard she was going out with a MMA fighter, so I hope he's decent, or else blood was gonna be on my hands.

As I was walking, I heard a high pitched scream, and as I turned around, I saw a thirty year lady holding a teen boy, who had blood coming out of his chest, while, unbelievably, a red bulky, six foot robot was running away. I went to the lady. "Ma'am, are you okay?" "Stavro! My loving Stavro!" she kept weeping, while an ambulance came. I snapped, it pisses me off when kids are hurt, and I looked for the bot. Luckily, I found him catching his breath almost a block away, so I chased the bot. We went through alleys, cars, and even a few kids, before I finally got him. I pulled off the costume, and saw an old man, late fifties, thin and really skinny, almost malnourished, and holding a carving knife full of dark red blood.
"A cop! Don't worry, I was just holding a show." It pissed me even more off that he actually thought I was a corrupt goon. So, I broke his pinky finger. While he screamed loudly, I dragged his sorry ass all the way to the warehouse.

I tied him to a pole, with some rope I "borrowed". "You know, I struck gold! I caught one of the jerks who have been causing murders. Just an hour ago, I got told to catch them." "What the hell do you want man?! I got cash, I got friends-
"I. Want. Answers!" I got Garcia, put him on my right hand, and on "Answers!", punched him hard in the gut. He started coughing blood.
"What's with the murders, huh? What's the fun in offing a kid?" "Please, I'm just a- "WRONG ANSWER!" and punched him a second time. AFter coughing, his look changed, from a scared man, to an angry and cocky jerk. "I'll never talk!" I smiled, torturing was fun. Time to bring out the tazer...

If you want to know more, please read the link in my webpage "World in Noir: Intro". THANKS =D


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