McAnally's (The Community Pub) > Author Craft
Writers round table
meg_evonne:
--- Quote from: Anduriel on April 09, 2008, 11:50:23 PM ---Uh, they didn’t tell you about that? Oh boy
--- End quote ---
"I think it would be easier to just get laid..."
I stared at the ceiling and thought. Frances let me work it out as he got a beer out of the refrigerator. It was covered with photograghs of kids, lots of crayon drawings, a prescription for someone named Candi for an ear ache. 'Why did I get pulled into this? Descendents? What the heck?' My dad was a plumber and my mom worked in the registrars office of a state college. As far as I knew my grandparents had been farmers, bankers, merchants, with one lawyer politician that got in trouble for taking bribes. It really seemed like Debbie and the Wildflower had made one major mistake this time. Certainly I'd never heard about any of them being Guardians of Earth.
Then again, how could Wildflower be wrong? Maybe I needed a road trip back home.
"How will you fix it with Homeland Security? How do I explain that I run around with a plastic toy (Wildflower was playing Starwars again) attached to my hip? I don't dare be away from it. I don't know which would be worse--if they believed me OR if they just chalk me up as an over the top, insane, crazy sci fi fan... I just graduated from college man, I'm supposed to be looking for a job, not saving the multiverse."
The Wildflower hummed at my side, not a warning type humming. Maybe it was an "I'm so sorry I screwed up your life, Joey" type way.
and we are back into hard core 1st POV. We may need to start a 2nd thread to meet the need of women authors wanting a female who knows how to kick ass..... :-) Okay, I'll contain myself, I promise, I think, maybe, ahh...I'll never make it. Chewing my nails in angst. I'm betraying my sex....:-) It's a good thing I'm working on an obnoxious 14 year old female YA book....
Qualapec:
AN: You can start a second thread if you want to, meg_evonne. But in our defense I think we have some pretty strong females in this story, it just so happens that Debbie and Reza happen to be somwhere else at the moment. :) There's no reason not to tell something from their POV using 3rd.
--- Quote ---The Wildflower hummed at my side, not a warning type humming. Maybe it was an "I'm so sorry I screwed up your life, Joey" type way.
--- End quote ---
"So, where am I going to live until you send up the Bat Signal, Commisioner?" I asked. It was a perfectly reasonable question, as my last home had been blown sky high.
Frances nodded, "I'll work something out. But for now you can stay here."
I blinked. It was a tiny, homey apartment. I imagined a wife and kids living there and could hardly think there would be room. Unless he planned for me to live in the living room. While that made linguistic sense I still thought it silly from a practical standpoint.
Again, he laughed. "No, I rent this place for work. To store my files and to sleep if I'd be coming back too late or, you know, if someone-dash-something is following me and I don't want to lead it back home."
Okay, that made more sense. I asked, "Allrighty then, next topic: I'm sure you have some cases in mind for me to start in on. And I assume that as long as I'm working with you I don't have to pay rent?"
There was a little bit of a pause, before, "Okay, no rent. You have enough on your shoulders...And you're right. I do have a case in mind."
He told me.
I blinked, "You mean those are real?"
He nodded, "Yep, them and pretty much every other nightmare you've ever heard about."
Suddenly, my mind filled with all the nightmarish things I'd already run into in Wildfire, then I thought about all of the other things I remembered from fairy tales.
It wasn't a pleasant thought.
I promised Frances I would get my sleep before starting my 'investigation'.
It wasn't until he left me alone in the apartment that I realized I didn't know dick about investigation.
Kristine:
--- Quote from: Qualapec on April 10, 2008, 05:08:40 AM ---It wasn't until he left me alone in the apartment that I realized I didn't know dick about investigation.
--- End quote ---
I had gone almost immediatly to sleep after he had left. Out of habit I locked the door. It wasn't till I heard Frances coming in the next morning that I considered how useless that was. If something from the Not-Here wanted to get me, the front door would not have been an obstacle.
"I'm going to need some help" I admitted. I seemed to be saying that a lot lately. For the latest in a line of heroes, I was getting the sinking feeling I sucked. I chowed into a chocolate frosted custard filled donut and decided confession was good for the soul - or misery loves company - I wasn't sure which.
Detective Inspector Frances nodded, "Yeah, we had to look you up and I saw you don't really have a background for this kind of thing."
He had brought over bottles of orange juice and donuts. I realized I hadn't eaten in a while and was starving. He didn't look like he was going to have one and just twisted the top open on one of the juices.
"Seriously," I continued around a mouthful, "I don't know why it picked me. I don't seem to be suited to this and my life is destroyed. You at least had a law enforcement career starting."
"I was almost done with the police academy when I got it." he snorted mirthlessly, "almost ruined my life - strange things always happening around me, and me always pulling out my keys. People thought I was nuts with that funny looking thing on my key chain."
I blinked looking at him blankly again. How could he keep a sword on his key chain?
He took another swig of O.J. with a sidelong glance that told me he was amused at my confusion. Then the light bulb went on...
"It didn't even look remotely like a sword for you..."
He nodded, "It was one of those eight ball things, you can screw onto your gear shift to make your old barely running, rusted out Camero look cool."
I thought of the mystery mobile that was probably sitting in a scrapyard somewhere and winced. "How did it get there? I mean mine was stolen by...a friend and left in my apartment."
He shrugged, "Some gifted thief from further in, had managed to lift it and brought it here. As far as I can tell he owned the car before me and the used car lot I bought it from."
I got suspicious. "What was his name?"
Frances shrugged, "I don't remember. It didn't matter after it saved my life, and I had become bound. Besides after I got accused of stealing it myself and taken in by that knight, I'm pretty sure so did the real thief. The emperor ordered everyone suspected of being party to the theft executed"
I stopped chewing for a moment thinking about my first hours in a cell on another world. He seemed unconcerned how the stupid thing got in his possession so I dropped it, and made a mental note to hunt down the history of his old car if I ever had time. For now it was back to...everything else.
"So, first thing. In the immediate future, do you have any idea how I'm going to convince the police that I am NOT a terrorist, or a Star Wars enthusiast who was making meth in my apartment?"
Detective Frances smiled crookedly, "I was getting around to that. I'm afraid we have some.." he scratched his chin looking for the right words, "...Creative storytelling to do. Most of which has been done for you - but you will have to go along and seem convincing."
I shrugged, "I guess I can do that." Nothing could be more unbelievable than the truth.
He considered me for a long second, then nodded with a look that said he knew he had no choice but to trust me. "Well, Like I said, your not the first person to have the Wildflower, so over the years we've built up stories about this...occult organization. We called it N.A.I.F. and it's a well funded secret group of occult fanatics who are conjuring up evil with found ancient documents from other planes of existence. (the religious people like to believe Hell - so we let them.) They change normal people into werewolves or giant spiders or a host of other supernatural things that go bump in the night. A group of 'experts' was recruited to fight these people. We are a very shunned side, closet group that operates secretly within Interpol."
I frowned. It was just too many things in one day. Really. "There's an occult group like that?"
Frances rolled his eyes and took another pull at his juice. "No" he explained patiently as if he was talking to a child, "We made up this group so that we wouldn't have to tell the governments of the world that we were fighting an uphill battle against extradimensional forces that will probably, eventually, way in the future... give the average Joe public citizens everywhere the power to manipulate arcane forces."
I covered my chagrin by grabbing another donut, "Well yeah, of course, what I meant was...ah..." I took a bite to stall and give me time to think of an excuse, "What did you tell everyone N.A.I.F. stood for?"
Qualapec:
--- Quote ---I covered my chagrin by grabbing another donut, "Well yeah, of course, what I meant was...ah..." I took a bite to stall and give me time to think of an excuse, "What did you tell everyone N.A.I.F. stood for?"
--- End quote ---
Frances took a break from his sip of orange juice to look at me, very seriously, "It's top secret."
"...You never came up with a meaning, huh?"
He shrugged, "That's only half true. My partner came up with something clever, I just never...remember."
I laughed really hard at that. Not that I really had any right to, I probably wouldn't have remembered a bunch of big nonsense words either. We ate in silence the rest of the time, at the end I shoved a doughnut in my mouth. It tasted really good, and I couldn't resist a slight sense of arrogance. Debbie had always complained that I could eat whatever I wanted and not gain weight. I had naturally relished every possible oppertunity to remind her of it. Just as she had relished the oppertunity to drag me into an interdementional power play. See? Our relationship was very even.
With the doughnut and the orange juice finished, we got to work. Frances briefed me again on the case, "Local businessmen have been violently murdered. They are all from different companies, so there was no connection there."
I reviewed what I'd learned last night, "But the connection is that they all had the tendency to pay women to sleep with them."
"Yes, but it's important to remember that only one of them was known to pick up street prostitutes, the others spent their time with the high-end escort companies. And their bank accounts were drained shortly before they died."
I felt smart, even though I was really only reciting what he'd told me last night, "Aha. So whoever did it wanted money."
"And food," He added.
"And food," I agreed. A severe understatement was what that was. These business men had been skinned, and devoured almost down to the bone. Frances told me that the only way to identify them had been through dental records. I began, "So, I don't know a whole lot about mythology. How many she-demons are there that lure and devour flesh? Is it a vampire? I've always wanted to stake a vampire. Like Buffy."
He smirked, "Mr. Gardner you're Xander at best."
"But I have superpowers," I argued.
"Yes, but your a pale, skinny, parrot of a man," He seemed to get great pleasure from the look on my face, but he quickly dropped the subject and continued. "The you actually aren't going to get much trouble from the vamps. They've been here almost as long as people. They came here from one of the inner worlds about the same time we were clubbing animals with big sticks. As a result their culture has...adapted. While this would normally fit the profile the manner in which the victims died doesn't work out. Vampires tend to make it look like suicide, or hide the body in a way that no one will find it."
"So what did this?" I asked.
He sighed, "That's why we're here." Suddenly he looked just a little bit older, a brief look of longing went across his features.
I suddenly realized something. Frances was eating breakfast with me, and he'd been at the apartment until late last night. The idea that he even had an apartment seperate from his own home made me wonder if he ever really got to see his wife and family.
But, I reminded myself that it wasn't my place, and that I didn't know enough about the situation to supply an accurate judging of it. Not unlike this alltogether investigation. I am definately learning to speak before I talk.
After that I left to change into the fresh clothes he'd brought me. Blue jeans and plaid. I must have looked like a lankier version of the guy from Starksy & Hutch, and it felt uncomfortable to wear clothes that were so tight after spending so much time in the loose clothing of Wildfire. But all that mattered was that I was wearing familiar threads again. It felt really good. Even though my home was destroyed, this was the closest it seemed I was going to get, and I was glad for it.
Then we left to...investigate. I think. I remind you that I really wouldn't know what investigation looked like if it was knawing my face off. Debbie had always been far more into the detective shows that I was. The only one I ever seriously paid attention to was Scooby Doo, and according to Debbie that didn't count.
It was actually kind of funny, we'd spent a lot of time together before all of the supernatural crap, and those times watching TV and eating popcorn were distant. Now, I couldn't really imagine her as anything other than a perky mage-thief. Well, that and the spawn of Andre, but other than those two things I had a hard time pictureing her any other way. It was very, very hard to think there was a time I'd thought she was human.
With a sigh I realized I missed her. No, not Mage Debbie. Human Debbie. Sure Mage Debbie and I were still very good friends, probably even stronger after what we'd been through. But I didn't miss Mage Debbie like I missed Human Debbie. I guess that was because I knew that I would see Mage Debbie again, and that Human Debbie was someone I would never get a chance to see again. A part of me mourned that.
Quickly, I shoved it aside so Frances couldn't see. I walked out the door to the bedroom and met him at the door. We left quickly to go check out a theory he had.
I'll admit I was quite anxious to see this car that had once housed the Wildflower for him.
meg_evonne:
Quote from Qualapec, "I'll admit I was quite anxious to see this car that had once housed the Wildflower for him."
Walking outside the apartment building and into the same car in question, Frances handed me a wallet, a cell phone, and a plastic flip open ID carrier. I opened the ID, my photo (ripped from my driver's license) was in it, along with a shiny Interpol badge (I kid you not). The ID said, Joseph W Capp, investigator Interpol, Dept of Special Cases. I slipped it into my back jeans pocket, first having to fumble around Wildflower. It was in detract mode and looked like a billy club--unless you touched it. Then it just felt like a plastic kids toy.
"Can we stop at a Mall first?"
"Sure thing. A salary advance was electronically deposited into your account last night. Interpol doesn't pay as good as the bad guys, but it's enough to keep you in a reasonable middle class tax bracket. There's a debit card in that wallet I handed you. The pin is N.A.I.F. on a phone keypad--so it's 6243." He pulled up to one of those massive city zits, called a box mall. He waited in the car and, as I walked away, I saw him pull out a cell phone and call someone.
The first stop was the ATM by the front doors. I scanned the debit card and punched the pin and asked for a balance. Then I tried to get my eyebrows back down where they belonged. 'Yeah, that'll be enough,' I thought.
By the time I got out of there, I'd put a dent into the debit card balance, but I was no longer swinging a plastic lightsaber in public. I now sported a lightweight Khaki London Fog Coat that I wore loose rather than belted. I found inside the coat that Wildflower must have been busy, because there was a quick release fastener where I could hang it, out of sight.
Frances pulled up to a high rise and parked at the entrance. The uniformed doorman looked like he was going to have a fit and rushed out to meet us at the curb side. That old car really looked nasty, but we both just grinned as we flashed our IDs and the doorman could only frown as he let us in. We took a private elevator to one of four penthouse apartments on top of the building, with soft jazz music piped in to keep us company.
On entering the penthouse, my second thought was, 'Hell of a view.', referring to the view out the windows. My first thought was, 'Hell of a view' , as I centered on, frankly, a hump-me delicious 5'6" Renee Rouso type, but with blonde hair, who was dressed in expensive tailored clothes. The "business" look just couldn't look "business" on her. I swore as Wildflower vibrated in jealousy inside my new coat.
The woman spun around, when we entered, holding a small digital camera in her left. Her right hand reached beneath her suit jacket to her beltline in back. When she recognized Francis, she let her hand fall--but it was too late. I'd seen enough cop shows to know that meant she was packing a hidden gun.
Her voice was sultry, yep sultry. I felt like I'd just walked into a noir detective movie and she was stacked perfectly for the part. The accent held a touch of upper end London, "Well, look who's here. The boys who fight NAIF, she pronounced it as a word with a long 'A'.
"Joey, let me introduce you to Ms Carrolton. She's a special insurance investigator who specializes in high end insurance claims--especially those that tend to fall into our catagory of expertise. Ms Carrolton, Joseph W Capp, a new member of our team."
She briefly glanced in my direction, but I had the distinct feeling that this blonde had just taken note of everything about me, including my in-seam measurements.
"Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?" I fumbled to readjust Wildflower as she continued to snip in amusement. "Recruits rather young these days, aren't they?"
Frances just smiled, "We take what lands our way. You'd be surprised how much he's adding to the team."
My personal thoughts? Okay, this lady was a bitch. A gorgeous bitch, but still a bitch.
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