Difference between revisions of "Interdimensional Havoc"

Latest revision as of 00:47, 2 August 2017

I'm not gonna lie to you, this may never be actually finished, but if it is, it's going to be like the third thing I've written that ends in this specific way.

The Actual Story

They call me Abraham Seeker. It's not my real name, but it's the one I'm using. These days I'm a private detective, but the Dan City police often call on me as a consultant. I wanted to be a police officer myself at one point, but if they found out who I used to be, I'd be kicked out of the academy in seconds. I wasn't risking it. I used to hear voices in my head. I'd have memories of things that never happened. Memories of killing people I had never met. Thoughts of murder. Death, Death, All of it death. It was simply overwhelming. Given that killing people is considered wrong in most of society, and hearing voices would get me labeled as insane, I did the only thing that made sense. I got therapy. One word to the good doctor and I was institutionalized and basically not allowed to see even my brother except for once a month. Not ideal, but somehow that whole mess worked for me. Haven't heard any of the voices in years, no murderous thoughts.

And now here I am, sitting in my office writing down things I'd never have told anybody before. Now I feel like I have to. I've been found out by the one person who trusted me enough to keep calling me, and that'd enough to kill my career if he hadn't seen everything. It was all in his report, the entire department knows. They want to keep it all secret, but it won't work. The world is going to find out eventually weather they're told or not. Might as well be told by someone like me.

Detective Marx called me around noon, while I was heading back to the office with an Orange Julius. "Terry," I said through a mouthful of slush. "Always great to hear from you. Who died?"

Marx began with an "Uhh, well...", which is never a good sign. Unidentifiable or particularly brutal. "We're at the home of a lawyer named Remmy Elfman, but..."

I spat out a bit of Julius. "I'll be right there!" I nearly yelled as I dropped my phone. Remmy's house wasn't far and I knew exactly where it was.

"What the hell was that about?" Marx asked as I walked briskly past him. He looked like your stereotypical white-bred detective. Looked like he should be in my place. Tan trenchcoat, hasn't shaved in two days, well defined jawline, and a crew cut. Only thing missing was a Lucky Strike in his mouth at all times. "How did you find you get here so quickly?"

I ignored what he said as I continued into the house. "Is he alive?"

"There's a body in the bedroom," He said. He tried to keep up with me but was just a little bit behind. "But it doesn't look like the billboards or anything. He looks more like-"

"An elf," I said, emptily, after I walked into the bedroom. "Grey skin, long pointy ears. Hate to tell you this, T, but this is Remmy."

"That's impossible! He look's nothing li-"

"I think I can recognize my own brother, Terry!" I yelled. "This is what he always looked like to me!"

Terry was in disbelief. "But how?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you this, but magical disguises. We're both elves, and we look like that. Most humans don't know about magic, and those that do tend to want to keep the rest of you in the dark for whatever reason, so Remadin had to disguise us to live among you. He became a lawyer, I became a deadbeat, and now he's the dead one!" I crouched down to take a good look at my brother, not yet realizing what all I said. Terry might have been talking, I wasn't even slightly listening at that point. There was a gunshot wound right in the middle of Remadin's forehead.

"Marx, take a look here," I said, probably interrupting whatever he was trying to say. "There's a hole in his head. We're taller than the disguises make us look, so a shot to the forehead would really be down around here." I pointed and made a circle around the upper chest. "This was precise. Someone knew he was an elf and they compensated."

Understandably confused by the whole thing, Terry asked, "So what does this mean?"

I sighed. "It means that no one in the Dan City police will have any idea what they're doing," I said, still a bit too calm. I started to raise my voice "It means you're all useless, I'm the only one who could possibly get anywhere..." I was yelling by this point. "And by the goddess I am to damn close to this!" I threw my head in my hands and began to cry. This was far too much for me to handle. Terry helped me up and led me to a chair.

"Hey man, is there anything I can get you or something?" Terry asked. I could always tell the difference between friend Terry and Detective Terry Marx. Even with his closest friends he'd speak differently to them acting as a detective.

Through the tears I managed to say "I- I left my Orange Julius in my car..." More sobbing. "It might help?"

Terry left to get what was left of my drink. Everything felt scattered in my head, but I tried to think of who might try to kill my brother. Everyone we'd ever known who knew what we were was dead, but there was someone out there who knew that Remmy Elfman's name was really lazy and he was actually and elf, and because of this wanted him dead. Most magic users wouldn't bother with him, since we weren't using magic to bother anyone else. Even if one did find out, they'd try for his office. This was in his home. That's of course, with me forgetting the fact that he was shot. This had to be someone who personally knew him, but neither of us would ever drop our disguise. No matter what way I sliced it, it didn't make sense unless things thought impossible even with magic were afoot.

I looked for the voices. They had been blocked out for a long time, but maybe, just maybe I'd be able to reach them. Maybe they'd hear me and give me advice. I searched deep within my mind, but silence. I really had gotten rid of them.

Terry came back with my partially melted Julius. He handed it to me and asked, "So... what's you're real name?"

"Eh?" I couldn't quite grasp why he was asking. Had I let something slip about our names?

"You said Remadin a bit ago. I assume that was Elfman's real name. What's yours?"

"Shit, did I let that slip? Nah. Nah, man. Even I don't call myself that name anymore. Hell, Remadin called me Leigh." I took a drink of my Julius. "But whatever killed him, it knows who we are. It knew Remadin, so it probably knows me too."

"Could it be looking for you, Like at your office or your apartment?"

I shot out of my chair. "Terry, you're a genius! Let's go!"

I grabbed Terry's arm and started dragging him to my car. "The hell do you men let's go!?" He yelled.

"To my office, of course. If they knew where Remmy was, they'll know where I'm supposed to be, and I'm probably going to need backup."