Weekly Writing Challenge Thread the First

[Suikama]

Still quite a bit. In comparison no one has gotten first more than once in the danmakufu contests :V

[Ryuu]

ICED WINNER


MY ETERNAL RIVAL

[capt. h]

?Kaguya, I?ve come for you!? Mokou announced in front of the Eientei Manor.

?What shall we do about her, godmother?? Eirin asked.

?Give her an offer she can?t refuse,? Kaguya said with her best Don Corleone impression.

?Yes godmother.? Eirin donned her trenchcoat and fedora and loaded her tommygun.

?Come out, Kaguya!? Mokou yelled, ?Or I?ll huff and I?ll puff and I?ll burn this place down!?

Eirin opened the front door and said, ?Wrong genre!?

?What??

?Wrong genre. We?re killing Noir style this week.?

?What?s Noir?? Mokou asked.

?You know; tommyguns, gangsters, and private detectives. Noir.?

?You mean mysteries??

?Come in here,? Kaguya said, popping up behind Eirin. ?Watch Casablanca and the Godfather, then we?ll get you a fedora. Then we can kill each other.?

Kaguya dragged Mokou through the mansion, which gave Mokou a moment to look around. First she noticed that everyone had really nice matching hats. Then she noticed they were all in suits or trenchcoats. Some of them were holding machine guns as well, and sun glasses were common enough. Then she entered a room with a large projector screen and lots of seats.

?Cue the lights!? Kaguya said. The lights dimmed, and the movie started.
________________________________________________


?Good movies,? Mokou said.

?Do you understand now?? Kaguya asked.

?No.?

?Look,? Kaguya said, throwing a fedora on Mokou. ?Pretend to be a private detective in the 1940?s. Say lots of things about the filth of the city-?

?But we?re in the countryside.?

?-pretend you?re in a filthy city, and try to figure out what I?m plotting.?

Mokou said, ?You?re plotting to kill me, like always.?

?At least try,? Kaguya yelled, clenching her fists, ?Start by describing the scene.?

?Alright,? Mokou began. ?Eientei is a filthy place-?

?-Hey!?

?You?re rules princess.?

?It?s godmother this week,? Kaguya grumbled.

?Can I continue??

?Alright,? Kaguya said.

?Eientei is a filthy place. A place of lies and deception. The dark underbelly of Gensokyo where the smell of cigarettes and sex always lingers.?

?I do NOT get involved with the rabbits!? Kaguya yelled indignantly.

?I never said you did, prin- I mean, godmother. Anyway,? Mokou continued, ?This is the den of the godmother. The filthiest of the filthy-?

?I?m right here.? Kaguya said.

?Do you want to play Noir or not??

?hmf,? Kaguya responded, letting Mokou continue the story.

?I found myself face to face with the big cheese, the godmother herself. She was plotting something. She was always plotting something. But what, I didn?t know.?

?Welcome,? Kaguya said, getting into the Don Corleone act. ?To what do I owe the pleasure??

? ?I know your planning something?, I said, sizing up the godmother. ?And when I find out what you?re planning-??

?You can drop the first person narration now,? Kaguya said.

?Really? O.K. then.? Mokou continued, ?And when I find out what you?re planning, you?ll wish you hadn?t sunk your teeth into this hellhole we can Gensokyo.?

?I?m merely running a family business detective.?

?That?s what they all say.?

?Tewi,? Kaguya called. ?See to it that Mokou is satisfied with our operations.?

Tewi showed Mokou out of the room, while Eirin came out of hiding. ?Godmother, that?s code for ?kill her?, right??

?Kill is such a strong word. Tewi is going to see that Mokou doesn?t get involved in our business anymore.?

?Temporarily, I assume,? Eirin said. ?It wouldn?t be much fun if Mokou was indisposed for the entire game.?

?Tewi can?t do much against Mokou. But make sure you give Mokou a revolver and a trenchcoat. The game won?t feel right if she can?t play the part.?

?Naturally godmother.?

[FinnKaenbyou]

Right fuck it I have a deadline that is hitting pretty damn soon and I need to produce something

Esi if this has not come out like you hoped it would I apologise :<

-----

Night just wasn?t as pretty in these parts anymore. All this newfangled street lighting had screwed up the skies, and she couldn?t make out any of the stars she used to watch as a little girl. For a minute she?d honestly thought the stars were dying, some sort of sign from above that the world was coming apart; an omen for the collapse of society and good values.

She wouldn?t have had trouble believing it, either.

It was careful, quiet stuff. The sort most people either didn?t notice, or did their best to avoid. The sounds of young men running as she came close, whatever deals they?d been planning put on hold. The occasional glossy-eyed tramp, staring out at nothing in particular, mouthing unheard prayers. And always, always, the blaring of ambulance sirens as they screeched through the streets to pick up the latest bright spark dimmed by the gang fighting.

Mokou Fujiwara helped herself to another shot of bourbon. She?d had maybe a dozen already tonight, so one more couldn?t hurt. It made her forget - at least for a little while. When she remembered - well, by then she?d forgotten how much bourbon she?d had. Now, when the bottle was empty? That was when it was time to worry.

There was a ringing somewhere in the back of her head. For a while she just thought it was the drink kicking in, and started digging into her desk for some one of those new-fangled pain-killer pills. After she?d upheaved roughly half of her written notes - mostly leftovers from cases long since solved - she realised this was a familiar sound, one coming from outside of her head. To her side, the office?s telephone was ringing for the first time in weeks.

She had to reach out for the handle a few times, her vision just blurred enough to make it hard to grab the thing. She succeeded on her third attempt, hauling it in and doing her best to hide the slur. Clients didn?t like it when she sounded drunk.

?Fujiwara Detective Agency, blazin? our way to the truth one case at a time.?

She?d come up with the slogan on a drunken whim. She regretted it, but she could hardly take it back - after all, the slogan had been painted on the front door, and repainting that stuff took patience and money that Mokou didn?t have. All she could hope now was that she hadn?t scared the client off before she?d even been made an offer.

?Good evening, Miss Fujiwara. I hope I haven?t interrupted anything??

Mokou paused for a moment. The voice was young - twenties, maybe. Female. Every syllable enunciated perfectly - upper class, no doubt about it. Not the stiff-upper-lip sort, though - more the young girl with the world at her feet, well aware of the fact and reminding everyone around her about it every chance she got.

More than that, though - there was an almost sultry tone to her voice. An entertainer, surely, and a voice that rung a tiny bell in the back of Mokou?s head. Or maybe this one really WAS the bourbon kicking in, she couldn?t be sure.

?Don?t worry. Just a close conversation with an old friend of mine, is all.?

Mokou?s free hand clenched around the neck of the bourbon bottle, already prepared for this deal to go wrong and for another potential customer to leave her in the dust. That?d give her a reason for another shot, surely. It?d bring her up to - how many was it again?

?Hm. Well, hopefully he won?t be around for long, because I?ll be paying your agency a visit on the hour.?

Mokou?s eyes widened slightly. This was usually where the clients wanted to clarify pricing - everything was about money these days, and reputation didn?t mean a damn thing if some new kid on the block undercut you. But not only was the girl set on handing her the job, but she was coming down for a face-to-face visit. No-one ever had the decency to do that these days.

Her eyes glanced up to the clock on the wall, needing a few seconds to come back into focus. Half past seven, giving her half an hour before her visitor would arrive.

?I?m pretty sure I can talk him on his way, yeah. See ya.?

?Certainly.?

The caller hung up. She hadn?t left a name either, Mokou noticed - that was usually the first detail people mentioned so she knew who the cheque would be from. That meant her client was doing her best not to be traced here - another interesting tidbit. She?d have half an hour to think it over now.

But first, she decided to get back to reaching through the drawer for those pills. If there was a client on the way that meant her little drinking session was over, and that meant a hangover was set to follow. This would stop the headache from running past the ?annoying throbbing at the back of her head? level.

She leaned back in her chair slightly, relaxing. This was the first smell she?d had of pay in ages, and the rent had been overdue for at least two weeks now. This would hopefully be a big enough customer to put the Fujiwara Detective Agency back into the black. More importantly, it also meant more money for bourbon.

Besides that, there was something she had to check out now. How long had it been since she?d looked through those old records of hers...?

-----

The thought of making herself more presentable for a customer didn?t strike Mokou until a few minutes before the guest was due to arrive. There was still enough time for her to throw the deal away, so she still had to take the necessary precautions.

Step one: Drop the suspenders. They were comfy, and they stopped her having to work the dangly metal on her belt, but that came at the price of making her look like an old man with a weight problem. Instead she opted for a close-cutting pair of black pants, stumbling on the belt once or twice. She was still a little drunk.

?When the world?s set to destroy you and the stars fall from the sky
And you tell yourself you simply can?t go on,?

Step two: New shirt. White shirts had always been a favourite for Mokou, but she?d managed to spill something on it a while back. She had no idea what it was, but she could say with some certainty it had been brown. No matter - she was used to ruining good shirts, and so she had a clean spare to change into at all times.

Finally, her face and hair could use a little livening up. Not makeup, she hated the stuff, but a quick wash of the face to make it look like she?d slept decently in the last week. Needless to say, she hadn?t - her time as a detective had presented her with sides of humanity she would have much preferred to stay hidden, and they came back in her dreams. The stress was starting to get to her - the long, blue hair she was so proud of was beginning to turn grey. She shrugged it off, letting it run long down her back. If it made her look older, then all the better.

?You just swallow up your pride, put some faith into your stride,
For the darkest hour?s right before the dawn...?

It was in the middle of this quick makeover session that a quiet knock resounded on the agency?s front door. An absent-minded look at the clock confirmed that yes, the client had been true to her word. A minute or two behind schedule - not used to deadlines, as Mokou had suspected. The sort who needed a dozen assistants to remind her of her timetable.

Mokou gave her hair one last ruffle to set it in place, walking to the doorway. Her eyes were deliberately focused on the floor as she placed her hand on the doorknob, opening it up to allow the customer passage.

?Evening, Miss Lorelei. I wasn?t expecting a guest like you.?

The face that Mokou looked upwards to see was one of mild shock. The lips, pink with the help of some carefully-applied lipstick, shifted into the shape of a pout. Her light grey eyes looked almost embarrassed as she ran a hand down her hair - pink as well, and meticulously kept. As she shifted her head the note-shaped earrings she wore [on ears that may as well have been wings] seemed to jingle, as if to a tune. She seemed set to scare and run back for the door to the apartment complex, which would do nothing for Mokou?s business. Maybe she?d gone a little too far.

?...I thought I didn?t leave my name on the call.?

?C?mon, you expected me not to recognise the voice of Gensokyo?s brightest star??

Mystia Lorelei looked nervous now, glancing around the corridor to see if she?d been spotted by anyone else. Mokou took that as her cue to let the girl in and stepped aside, allowing the diva to enter the room in its entirely. She was welcomed by the smell of cheap air-freshener, applied mainly so the smell of alcohol didn?t give Mokou away. The detective saw her client visibly flinch as she walked in, the large wings on her back flapping on instinct.

Among the various tidbits Mokou had lying around was a gramophone, with a record playing very faintly in the background. Mystia was quick to recognise the sound of her own voice - one of her first records, the one that had really brought her into the public eye.

??Right Before The Dawn?, yeah. Never been much of a music nut myself, but I went out and picked it up. It?s chirpy, but not like the over-sweet stuff everyone else puts out.?

Mystia?s face went a little red at that. Nowadays that sort of song was behind her. No-one listened to happy music anymore - now it was all about being as raunchy and attractive as possible, and her latest songs had enticing names like The Lollipop and He?s Not Good Enough For Me.

?Well, you know how the system works. You get one shot to sing about whatever you like, and if it?s good enough the men up top take you in and never let you go.?

Mokou allowed herself a smile. She was worried that the girl wasn?t the sharpest of the bunch, but she seemed more aware of how her business worked than a lot of girls her age. The detective decided this was a deduction worthy of a reward.

?Feel up for a smoke??

Mystia shook her head at that.

?Sorry, on contract. The kappa say those things do a number on your vocal chords, and my director isn?t taking any risks.?

Mokou sighed. All these new-fangled stories about cigars doing you in. They were one of the few luxuries she allowed herself, and there was nothing like a good puff to calm her nerves when the bourbon ran dry. The case was easy enough for her to find given that she?d already been through all of her notes, and she pulled out an expensive looking cigar to deal with the inherent nerves that were part and parcel when it came to dealing with celebrities.

As an added bonus, she?d never need to invest in a lighter. Mokou placed one end of the cigar in her mouth and brushed the thumb of her free hand along the other. It smouldered for a few seconds before catching alight, and with a hearty puff Mokou sent a cloud of smoke upwards into the room. Her body slumped visibly, and as she smiled in relief Mystia was looking across from her with an impressed glance.

?I?d heard you were good with fire, but wouldn?t a lighter be easier in the long run??

?Hey, y?know what they say - if you got it, flaunt it.?

For all its civilisation and technology, Gensokyo still had a hint of magic hidden in the most distant corners. Mokou, for example, had a way with fire that no machine could ever hope to match. She?d heard stories, like every other kid her age, that there had been a time when this magic was commonplace, back when people didn?t have all these fancy gadgets and doohickeys to help us.

More than once, Mokou wished she?d been born in that time. Anything had to be better than this, surely.

Another thing she loved about cigars is that it left an opening while she took a puff. It was a helpful sign for both of them that the small talk was finished for now. Mokou let off a little cough before taking her seat behind the desk, still holding the cigar in one hand.

?Alright then, missy. What?s the problem? Wanna find out if your manor?s got gold under it? Think the stock brokers screwed you over? Wanna check if your husband?s really out on business so often??

Mystia frowned slightly at the last one. It had been a joke on Mokou?s part - Mystia had never found true love, with a history of failed romances and painful breakups to her name. Nowadays she was known as Lorelei the Unwinnable, but only in the level of journalism Mokou had no intention of stooping to.

?If I make my offer carte blanche, will you stop trying to be so witty??

Mokou nearly crushed the cigar in her hand. She was thinking five hundred, maybe a thousand dollars if she played her cards right with this, but Lorelei was already set to offer her everything she had. That could only mean she?d come here with a case of the utmost severity.

?...It?d certainly help, but let?s hear what you want me to do first.?

Mystia bit her lip. She was nervous, Mokou could tell, toying with her earrings as a nervous tick. She seemed very much out of place here, in a sketchy-looking detective?s agency downtown, so something big had to be on her mind.

It took her a few seconds to get the words out of her mouth, but what she said was the first thing to strike at Mokou?s nerves in ages.

?Miss Fujiwara, I think someone is trying to kill me.?

-----

As the realisation of what she?d said hit her, Mystia?s nerves only grew worse, and she started playing with her dress for distraction instead. It was a frilly affair, black with white frills running along the bottom, but compared to the outfits she?d been made to wear for recent performances it was outright chaste.

?OK, OK, OK. Lemme get this straight. Is this some sorta nutjob fan you?re scared about? One ?a those types who figure if they can?t have you, no-one can, or somethin? like that.?

A tiny part of Mokou was worried that Mystia was getting worked up over nothing. Maybe she was paranoid, or maybe she was just trying to start up some sort of drama to bring herself into the public eye again. Probably wouldn?t be the first time a diva had faked a death threat in the business, and it definitely wouldn?t be the last.

?No, nothing like that. If it was something simple along those lines I?d just find a bodyguard, but this is...a lot bigger.?

Mokou began to lean over the table.

?Bigger? What would be bigger than an assassination attempt on one of Gensokyo?s top acts??

Mystia looked downward. The detective could catch the first few hints of shame on her face, and quickly came to the conclusion that Lorelei the Unwinnable had been ?won?. She was on the run from a jealous boyfriend, looking to have back what he?d lost, no matter how far he?d need to go to get it-

?...I think my record company is financing the mafia.?

-or it could be something else entirely. There was a reason she?d never made it that far as a detective.

It took a second for the magnitude of Mystia?s claim to reach Mokou. She felt the cigar slip out of her hand and onto the ground, still smouldering. She?d have been worried about burning the office down if she hadn?t planned ahead and paid out for fireproof flooring.

?Uh...wow. W...What makes you think that??

Mystia?s eyes followed the fallen cigar as it rolled out past the desk. She seemed intent to look any direction other than forward right now. The story seeped out of her mouth gradually, picking up speed with every word.

?Well, it started with my director. A good enough woman when I first met her. Smiled a lot, which was more than any of the other corporate big-wigs were doing. I thought of her as a friend more than anything else, and when I made it big I thought it was only fair to go to her. We were still close, even after I?d signed with them.

But in the last few months, she?d started getting more...distant. We stopped meeting up, having phone calls. She didn?t even show up at company meetings anymore if I was around. For a while I thought I must?ve offended her somehow, but I couldn?t figure out what I?d done. So I found a space in my schedule - harder than it sounds, trust me - and took a trip to her office to see what she?d been up to.?

The story stopped abruptly. Mystia?s face was still, but from the slight shivers it was forced rather than natural. Mokou would?ve offered her a drink, but she was running dangerously low on bourbon right now. From the sounds of things, she?d need a drink or four after this case.

?...The door was left open when I got in. I thought I?d take a look inside - maybe she was in the back of the office or something like that. I only came in for a couple of minutes, but there was a note lying on top of her desk. It...well, I think it speaks for itself.?

Mystia reached into her dress, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. She timidly handed it over to the private eye, who had to take care not to tear it as she unfolded it. The note was short, but to the point.

?Lorelei has become a financial liability. Apparently her happy-go-lucky attitude isn?t going to cut it in today?s world. We?re getting to work on a memorial album, so give us something good to mourn.
                                                                                      ~Tewi Inaba?

The last two words in particular caught Mokou?s eye. She muttered them under her breath with clear malice. Unconsciously, her grip on the paper tightened, until before she knew it she was holding two pieces rather than one.

?So am I right in thinking my director?s connected to your ?friend? in the underworld??

Mystia nodded slightly as she witnessed Mokou?s reaction. She?d expected it, and this was exactly why she?d come to Mokou. The detective looked back at her with a glint in her eyes - a flame, burning with the intensity that only hatred could bring.

?...Yeah, Inaba?s a name that rings a bell. Didn?t know quite where she fit in the puzzle, but she?s one of Houraisan?s higher-ups. And you?re half right.?

Even saying that name was enough to get Mokou angry. She fell back on her usual coping mechanism, not even bothering to use a glass this time. A quick swig of bourbon was enough to keep her civil, though Mystia seemed unimpressed.

?Wait, so why am I only half right??

Mokou stood up, looking back out over the city. In terms of architecture, it was a monumental achievement - buildings that practically touched the clouds, along with roads and the various vehicles that drove on them. There was enough variety and opportunity here that everyone could have a good shot at life.

It was a shame, then, that all of this opportunity was firmly in the hands of someone who didn?t intend to give it away.

?You?re half right because Houraisan doesn?t just run the mafia. She runs everything else, too.?

-----

As it turned out, Mokou was the one person who had the best idea what was going on. She?d been running investigations in her spare time between cases - which she had more of than she?d have preferred. She looked into drug cartels, corporate takeovers, all the new governmental laws banning everything considered ?obscene? or ?unconstitutional?. Everything led back to Houraisan - she owned the clubs where the drug rings met, and the companies building a slow and patient monopoly across the country. She?d been seen having ?friendly discussions? with politicians the day before important laws were due to come up - and they left these meetings with fatter wallets and changed opinions. Of course, Houraisan?s companies were always the special exceptions to these laws, meaning she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

This sort of growth didn?t happen without a bit of violence, obviously, so Houraisan had her hand in some less legal affairs as well. She could make people ?disappear? if she wanted - though most of the time she preferred a mutilated body to be found just to scare off the last few straight cops this city had. Within the space of about fifteen years, she?d gone from the daughter of a philanthropist to the puppeteer pulling the strings of every man and woman in the city. Most people knew her as the gangster lord who never seemed to be caught, but they weren?t as aware she was the one paying their wages as well.

Mokou had seen her once. Fifteen years ago, in fact, back when she?d been a child. Her father had been a wealthy land-owner at the time, and he had more than a few properties to his name. Houraisan wanted him to sell them to her for dirt-cheap prices, and obviously he?d refused the deal.

She remembered her face at that moment - the cruel, vicious smile than formed on her lips as she left the building.

?Rest well tonight, Mr. Fujiwara. They say it?s going to be warm this evening.?

Her father had thought nothing of it, and neither had she. It was only  when her home was filling with smoke and the flames licked at her feet that she realised it was a barely veiled threat.

In retrospect, it was a pretty thorough job. The goon broke into the house in the dead of night, started the fire, then chained the door closed on the way out so the family couldn?t escape. The windows weren?t an option, given that they were several stories up, and he even thought far ahead enough to cut the phone line so they couldn?t call for help.

Mokou only remembered two fragments of that night. Her parents screaming for help amidst their coughs on the smoke, and the moment when the screaming stopped and they went eerily silent. She almost went along with them, but apparently her natural affinity for fire was just enough to keep her alive when the fire brigade finally arrived.

Her parents weren?t so lucky.

It was dubbed an accident, of course. In fact, Mokou was more lucky that given her talents the blame wasn?t pinned on her. Her family?s land went up for auction, and a certain Miss Houraisan won it at an even better price than she?d been asking for. Mokou received the payments, but it was pocket change compared to how much she?d need to live on her own. She?d had a rough few years, but through all the side jobs she could muster she brought together enough money for her own apartment.

From that point on, she knew exactly what she was going to do with her life. Even if the police hadn?t been able to trace Houraisan to the crime - or more likely, she ?persuaded? them to pass over the incriminating evidence - that didn?t mean she couldn?t do it.

She wasn?t going to bother with evidence. She was going to hunt Kaguya down, find the woman at her weakest without her entourage of guards to take care of her. There?d be no moment of confession, no chance for repentance. Mokou would find her, shoot her, and leave her employees to stumble across the corpse.

Maybe that made her as bad as the woman she wanted to kill. Maybe revenge was eating her up, to the point where nothing else mattered.

But if the rest of the world was falling apart, she may as well go down with them.

-----

?Well. That?s...quite the story.?

A trace of pity hung in Mystia?s voice. That was the first sign Mokou had that she?d been rambling again, forcing her little tale on anyone who?d care to listen - as well as those who didn?t. If there was one thing she hated about her drinking, it was that it left her tongue too loose.

?Not really. I?m sure half this town?s got a sob story as bad as mine to tell.?

Mokou made her way back to her seat. She felt tired, like giving her story had drained the life out of her. It was tempting to just lay her head down on the desk and sleep until the sun came up. In fact, that?s what she would have done if she didn?t have a customer right in front of her.

?Right, so. You?ve heard my story, I?ve heard yours. Now, what exactly do you want me to do for you??

The diva?s eyes shifted around the room. She was suddenly aware of how small it was - the only room branching off was a bathroom, and there was nothing resembling a bed anywhere. The closest there was to it was the couch, and based on the way it was pressed down it was probably what Mokou had been using in place of somewhere to sleep.

?W-Well, I can?t go back home now that I know they?re out to get me. They know where I live, after all, so it was all I could do to get here without being noticed. I need to fall under the radar, or I?m going to be hitting the top of the charts posthumously.?

Mokou grinned. In spite of all the pressure, even in the face of death, Mystia seemed like she still knew how to crack a joke or two. She liked girls like that, and though she?d never be caught saying it the sparrow was pretty easy on the eye.

?What, you want somewhere to crash? Couch is all yours if you want it. Don?t mind me, I?ll just lie here for a bit.?

As if to stop her from worrying, Mokou immediately put her head down and let off a loud snoring. It?d give Mysita no chance to argue back against these preparations, at the very least. After waiting a moment to see if the detective would budge, Mystia sighed and rose to her feet, focusing her attention on the worst bed she?d slept on in years.

It was like a riddle, trying to find out how to lie comfortably on that thing. Mystia experimented with every angle, every position, but no matter where she lay something hurt. The wings were probably making this much harder for her, but there wasn?t much she could do about that.

After about half an hour of trying in vain to come to rest, Mystia heard the sound of a chair shuffling. Seconds later, there was another body pressing beside her.

?Changed my mind. Feel like sleeping here after all.?

Now that they were close, Mystia could smell the bourbon on Mokou?s breath. Immediately she started to squirm, but the detective was on top of her already and refusing to budge. Within seconds Mokou had fallen asleep for real, her snoring blaring right into Mystia?s ear. It took all of her patience not to fling Mokou off the couch right now and storm out of the office.

?Wait, this is...?

She couldn?t understand quite why. No words seemed to come for it, but this felt...comfortable, almost. There was no crick in her back, and her wings had slipped through a slit in the couch rather than being cramped against the fabric. She couldn?t move, true, but she almost didn?t want to.

She looked up, Mokou?s sleeping face only inches in front of hers. Now that she?d fallen asleep, she seemed to be smiling a little. Not the forced grins she?d been giving earlier - a gentle, almost childish smile. It warmed her heart a little, and for a moment Mystia forgot about the impending disaster that had brought her here.

If she?d been asked yesterday, she?d have never thought that she?d find comfort lying on a half-broken couch along with a drunken detective miles away from home.

Nothing like a curveball to change your outlook on life completely, I guess.

She barely noticed her eyes were closing until it was too late. It was a lousy bed, in a lousy office, in a lousy town, but having someone beside her just made it that much better.

[Kips McKipzerson]

You need to continue that rou. :4

[MaxKnight]

There was a good three days there where I thought I might actually win.

Then other people posted. >_>

What's bad is that I'm only half joking; everyone else here has been writing for far longer than I have.  Ah well, every new story adds a little skill; this thread in particular will teach me much in fully drafting my own style.

[capt. h]

Is the contest over, or is it extended?

[Ryuu]

I was too busy this week to write this orz

[Sect]

This is probably not going to be very cool of me to ask, but can we get an extension?

[Alfred F. Jones]

I don't have a problem with it, if Esi doesn't have a problem with it.

[Unassuming Squid]

I was too busy this week to write this orz

Not sure if an extension will help, but I guess it's worth consideration. Midterms week and all.

[Dead Princess Sakana]

I don't have a problem with it, if Esi doesn't have a problem with it.

Esi was practically planning with extension from the start (partially because he wanted me to write something as well :V)

So I'll go ahead:

~ Deadline Extension - New Deadline March 13th ~

[Esifex]

Let the stories flow~

These are great, guys, I'm lovin all of them so far :B

[Esifex]

Today is the 13th - the deadline.

Considering the events in Japan and how concerned a lot of us have been, I'm open for another extension, or possibly even opening up the next topic (if there's one lined up) but leaving this contest open to late entries. It seems a few people had ideas and may have been cooking something up, but, it's up to the primary judges.

[Sect]

I should have mine done before the deadline tonight, but I bet that there's others who still want to get in on this.

[Iced Fairy]

If I can't make this deadline I don't deserve to win it so fire away.

[Sect]

Took much longer to write this than I intended. Also, I should warn everyone that I've never actually read or watched a noir pic, unless Dick Tracy or Who Framed Roger Rabbit counts, so I decided to go with something that I thought kinda fit the genre.

EDITED ON MARCH 18th


I heard that Gensokyo was paradise, one time. Unfortunately for me, by the time I came around, the glory days of this old city had long passed: tall trees replaced with brick tenaments, the lake filled with the excrement from the Scarlets' factories, and the streets crawlin' with gangs of youkai, huntin' for easy prey. The place is a bloody death trap, a sinkhole of the world's filth, and it had me snared right in there. I was stuck, and I was determined to at least survive, if only by trying to avoid trouble or causin' any, which was a damned feat considerin' my nature. Unfortunately, trouble ended up catching up to me instead, starting with that fare those few years ago.

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The taxi service in this city's just like most privately owned businesses 'round here: old, worn out, and barely afloat. The fleet of taxis consist mostly of older yellow models from elsewhere, and the majority of the drivers are humies, with the exception of yours truly. The other cabbies don't like me at all, what with the bad blood between humies and youkai, but they got no choice but to keep me, considerin' that I just kinda appeared one day, managin' to coax life back into the oldest and most run down cab in the fleet. The old girl's one piece of work, leaking more oil than she uses to lube herself, chugging gasoline like it was whiskey shots, and the roof's so patchwork that the rain leaked down on the driver 'n the passengers. I was the only one to get the girl to run in fifteen years, and the management figured that they might as well keep me on, if only to draw trouble away from the humie drivers with the little youkai girl driver and the ugly purple paint job.

Unfortunately for me, the girl wasn't very attractive for customers: all the humies with their bright yellow cabs got the fares, leavin' me with the dregs and the back alleys. Probably for the best, really: those cabs attracted a lot of negative attention, of the head emptyin' kind.

So, one night, me 'n the girl were hunkered down on the side of the street, her wipers tryin' in vain to clear off the drizzle that managed to land in between five story buildings and her radio cracklin' with horns 'n strings, when I get startled by a tapping on my door. I glanced over to see some broad, wrapped up too tightly for me t' make out any detail, wavin' at my backdoor. A customer, obviously, so I unlocked the door and let 'er in, since leavin' your doors unlocked in these streets is just inviting trouble. In order to avoid more trouble, 'n maybe in the hopes of getting a cheap thrill, I was in the habit of droppin' my voice a couple octaves.

"Where d'ya nee-" my affected voice cracked when I caught a glimpse of legs in the rearview mirror: perfect legs, with dark silk stockings rising up past her knees and pale thighs peeking out from a skirt. It took a while to swallow the bulge in my throat, and I managed to squeak out, in a much higher pitch than I intended, "need to go?" Even now I wince at that memory, acting like a damn teenager in heat at the first sign of tail.

The fare only chuckled, a sensual rumble that made my young heart flutter. To this day, I can't really tell you what that fare's laughter sounded like, if it was the sweetest ringin' of bells or the dull, calming thunder of storm clouds. Of course, there's a good reason behind that, but I'm just gettin' ahead of myself. So anyways, the woman chuckled, with that sound setting my poor nerves ablaze. "Just start driving towards the factories." Face as red as a tomato, I nodded and flipped a switch on the girl's dash, signifying that my chariot was carrying some precious cargo. The street was empty, allowing me to pull across the street and towards the tall, sickly orange plumes of smog and halfway burned chemicals.

The old girl's engine roared as we sped along the abandoned streets, coughing out clouds of smoke. I had taken the opportunity to adjust the mirror, hopin' to catch another glimpse of heaven. No such luck: her clothes had covered those legs again, denying my voyeuristic ways. There was absolutely no justice in the world, I had thought then, as the music on the radio ended. "Hope all of you out there in lovely Gensokyo enjoyed the music!" an obnoxiously bright, nattering voice exclaimed from the worn speakers. "This is Aya Shameimaru reporting, the honest voice of the city!" For the most part, I tuned out her jabbering, concentrating on the dark road ahead. I would've ignored the broad's broadcast altogether, had my quiet occupant not leaned up against my seat, fingers softly pressing against my arms.

"Turn that up, blue eyes," she said, her breath tickling my ear. Feeling my face grow warm, I complied with her wishes, Aya's voice filling the quiet of the cab.

"-and police have yet to apprehend this murderer. Hey, they haven't even been able to get a good description of this guy, aside from the crazy lookin' mask or that infamous calling card. If you ask me, this so-called 'Alien' is nothing more than a sham, a creation of the government to take out good and honest businessmen and women!"

"Wow, she's on a roll today," I had to admit, spine tingling at the fare's touch. "I wonder if she's right about that killer being some sorta guvvie agent."

"Maybe, maybe not," my fare replied, still so very close to me, "but I imagine that Shameimaru is somewhat biased in her reports." Even with the chill of the early spring shower I felt uncomfortably warm, as I asked her what she meant from that. "Imagine that Miss Shameimaru is not as honest of a reporter as she claims." I tried to: Shameimaru was very vocal, but at that time I had liked to think that her broadcasts at least reflected the truth. "Picture in your mind those 'honest businesswomen' as oni thugs, transporting human men and women against their will." That was easier: there were several times I drove past an alleyway to see one of those horned thugs knock a humie over the head and carry 'em off on their shoulder. "Now, imagine that the 'honest voice' was a propaganda machine for a certain criminal element of the city..."

I looked at the fare increduously through the rearview, though, somehow, her face managed to elude me, or at least the memory of it. "Are ya serious?" I choked out. "How the heck d'ya know that kinda stuff?" I swear I saw her smile at me, but I just couldn't recall what it looked like.

"I have my ways. Now, blue eyes, turn to the right, towards the docks."

Now, even as new at the job as I was back then, I knew that I was gettin' my butt into some trouble. This fare with the nice legs and the face I couldn't remember, knowin' all she did about the oni Mob and wanting to go to the most dangerous part of town... this dame was serious trouble. If I'd known better, I'd never gotten involved. By then, though, it was too late: I was in for the long haul, far longer than I ever wanted. Instead of screeching to a halt and kickin' her to the curb, I followed her orders, and turned into the dark streets leading to the lake.

When we pulled to a stop near a low factory, some sorta cannery or something, I was pretty damned nervous. I drove here a few times, and I knew that this was pretty close, if it wasn't smack dab in the middle of, rabbit territory. Those vicious buggers were more dangerous than oni in my books: the oni were big 'n tough, sure, but at least they were honest, and didn't try to skip on fare or steal your tires. I tried to give the fare a warning, but she only waved me off as she slunk out of the cab. "Just wait here. It won't take too long." And with that, she was gone, vanishing into an alleyway.

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There's nothin' more boring than waiting for a fare to finish business. There's nothin' more aggravating than realizing that you should have at least tried to get fare for drivin' part way, before they ditched ya. At that moment, though, I couldn't help but be scared shitless, terrified that some lanky eared rabbit was gonna hop into the back seat and shank me, or deface the girl, or even bust out her lights. At that last thought, I knew that I had to get outside, get some fresh air. Unfortunately, I didn't remember that the air 'round here was as foul from the factories and the sickness from the lake until I got outside and nearly gagged. I fished a carton of cigarettes out of my coat pocket, barely touched, and grabbed one of the sticks in order to get that smell outta my nose. Sticking the stick in my mouth, I lit it with a match, and almost instantly began coughing on the smoke I inhaled. I had picked up that pack of the cigarettes a few months before, after being told that smoking those things would make seem more mature, and less likely to be bothered by the rough types. Really, I should've known better than listen to that rabbit, especially since she jacked my wallet afterwards; took forever to get a new license, let me tell ya.

Fortunately for me, the drizzle had crawled to a stop, so I was only slightly soggy as I choked on the cigarette, tryin' in vain to keep a look out for any rabbits tryin' to sneak outta the alleyways in order to mess up the girl. Back then, I was a bit stupid, since that only left me open to gettin' a knife in the ribs, but considerin' what kinda youkai I am, that'd actually be a blessin', opposed to the girl bein' totaled. In any case, there I was, a stupid girl guardin' an old girl from some long eared girls, watchin' the alleys for a mysterious girl.

Which is why the body falling from a third story window caught me completely by surprise.

I didn't actually see the goon land on the girl; I was too busy fallin' to the ground, screaming and clutching my eye as it exploded in pain. Felt like someone decided to take a hammer to my face, it hurt so much. In those days, I wasn't used to being hit or beaten or stabbed, so instead of bein' smart and going for cover, I just curled up there, crying in a puddle of water. Dunno how long I decided to sob in that puddle, but eventually the pain started to ebb away, and I finally started to recollect myself. I glance over to the girl, where I had heard a loud crunch, to see a rabbit in front of her. I staggered onto my feet, still clutchin' my eye, and saw what happened to the girl. Damn rabbit landed right on top of her hood, demolishing her left headlight. I admit that the kick that I gave the long ear wasn't exactly polite, but it made me feel a bit better, plus, it let me see that she was still alive, though the knife wounds didn't look too good.

I took a quick look at the window she fell from. Window was open, but she definitely didn't jump out herself. Also, the alley my fare had disappeared to was right next to the factory that the rabbit had taken a dive from...

For some gods forsaken reason, I decided to rush on into the alley. It's almost embarassin' how dumb I was back then: it's a wonder I wasn't killed then.

------------------------------------

So, there I was, running my fool ass into trouble. Mind you, now that I'm thinkin' on it, I knew exactly why I ran in there: despite only knowin' her for the better part of an hour, I felt some sorta obligation to that fare. It might've been the money, it might've been curiousity about her, it was probably because of the legs. In any case, there I was, stumbling through the alley, soakin' wet and eye hurtin' like none other, when I hear the sounds of people fighting. A body being thrown against a wall, a grunt as a fist impacted flesh, clatter of metal. Fear spurred me forward, as queer as that sounds, and I rounded the corner to see a frightful sight.

There were three people in that shipping lot. Actually, more accurate to say two people 'n a rabbit corpse, judging by the knives in her head and chest. Another rabbit was perched on top of the only other living person here, spitting blood as she rained blows on the prone girl. As I watched, her coat pulled away, revealing the finest sets of legs I've seen today, if not ever. A very familiar set of legs, in fact. I must've shouted or something, because the rabbit threw one final punch, accompanied by a sharp sound, something like a dinner plate snapping, and whirled around to glare at me in surprise, with a bloody maw and a line carved across her face. Unfortunately for her, that distracted her long enough for the fare to reach up and grab the long ear by the head, and end her with a snap. I could only stare in one eyed shock as the rabbit crumpled, falling off the fare; that shock quickly turned into fear, when the fare stood up, and I saw her for the first time.

There really wasn't much I could see of her: she wore a black coat, covering her from chin to toe, and her hands were gloved. I couldn't see her face, cause she was wearing a blank white mask with two dark eyeholes, with a black hood covering the rest of her head. Suddenly, that little conversation in the cab made a lot more sense, and I think that my knees started to tremble in fear.

Then, someone grabbed me around the neck and pressed the cool barrel of a gun against my temple, and my knees really did start trembling in fear. "Hey, bitch! Got yer driver!" There was a little bit of hesitation in the fare's stance, and then she started stalking towards me 'n my captor. That didn't really make whoever it was behind me happy, and she started digging the pistol deeper into my head. "I'm serious, bitch! Don't move, or Imma gunna blow her brai-" The killer's arm streaked black, and the woman holding me at gunpoint cut off in midsentence, before falling on top of me. I might've squeaked a bit, and maybe even leaked a bit, as I jumped out of her way so she could fall heavily on the concrete, dead as a doornail. It didn't take long to see that it was the same long ear that hurt the girl, now sporting a knife in her eye and clearly dead.

I looked up, and damn near emptied myself when I realized that the fare was right in front of me, arms trapping me against the brick wall of the alley, her mask barely an inch away from my face. "Now we have a dillemma," I heard her say, her voice still just as undefinable as when I first picked her up, but distorted by that creepy mask. I began babbling in a panic, just knowing that I was about to die, and had no useful excuse like having a family to feed or a sick mother or whatever: sometimes humies have just all the luck. I might've been saying something about eggplants or weasels or something when the masked killer put a finger against my lips, shutting me up. Her head was cocked curiously like a bird's, and that finger of her's ran up my cheek to my eye, still tightly closed. I tried to pull away from her, but she only moved closer to me, holding me to the wall with her body. Despite my fear, I couldn't help but grow red, thinkin' on how it would look like to someone watching.

Her hand was soon cupping my face, thumb and finger trying to gently pry open my eyelid. I decided to be accomadating depsite how much my eye still hurt, since the other option was pretty obviously not healthy for me. "Poor blue eyes," she murmured softly, "that doesn't look like it'll go back any time soon." I wasn't really sure at the time what she was talking about at the time, but I was slightly distracted by a detail that I hadn't noticed: her mask was broken. Part of the bottom was shattered, letting me see the soft curve of her jaw, and the pale white flesh of her neck; the collar of her coat was askew, letting me see that neck lead down to the delicate bone of her collar. A perverse part of me wondered what it'd feel like to kiss that collarbone, and I had the sudden urge to lick my lips.

That killer's hand left my face, and she pulled away from me, though I nearly followed her like a magnet. "If you want your fare and your life," she said, suddenly hard and business like, "you'll do as I say." Hearing that out, I rapidly nodded my head, eager to kiss her ass to get me out of this mess. She soon had me pop open the trunk of the girl, and I found myself dragging a rabbit corpse through the alley, nervously glancing over my shoulder ever other second. I wasn't what you would call a heavy lifter, so by the time I had dumped the body in the trunk, the fare'd already chucked two more in the back.

I felt like I was going to throw up, but I tried grinning at the killer, hopin' that it would make her less likely to slit my throat. "So, where to?"

"We still have three more inside, darling." Damn. I followed her back in the factory, to see a bloody mess of rabbits, strewn across crates and metal desks. By then, my stomach had enough, and I excused myself as politely as I could, and proceeded to lose whatever food I had in the shipping lot out back. By the time my dinner had excused itself, the fare had already finished dumping the bodies in the girl, and was dumping fuel from a gas can, much to my bewilderment. She led a trail of the gasoline outside, then tossed the can aside when it was empty. She turned to me with that creepy mask as she pulled out a book of matches. "Go ahead and start the cab," she ordered as she tore a match from the book and lit it. That brooked no argument from me: by the time she used that match to light the entire book on fire, I was already booking it to the girl.

I had slammed the door shut and stuck the key into the ignition when something the fare had said occurred to me. I took the rearview and shifted it down, to look at my reflection, and groaned at the sight. The skin around my left eye was a little bruised, but it was nothin' compared to my eye, with vessels burst all the way to the black, fillin' the whites and blue with red. It was kind of sick to look at, and my eye started to hurt more the longer I stared. I grimaced as I shut my eye and turned the ignition, the girl croakin' a few times before she roared to life. I almost gunned the girl right then and there, hopin' to maybe get away from that killer, but unfortunately for me she had slid into the passenger seat right next to me. A chill rose up my spine when that mask stared at me, and I followed her directions away from the building, orange lights beginning to refract through the dirty windows, driving to a quiet, out of the way dock. After shutting off the engine and popping the trunk for the fare, I stood a ways away from her, watching her drag the corpses out of the girl. Even though it was empty, my stomach still wanted to rebel against me, seeing those dead eyes and gore. As she wrapped the rabbits in heavy chains that she must've had prepared, I shakily pulled a cig out of my carton, and tried to light it up. Thankfully, I didn't choke this time, though I had to hold off a sneeze from the wisps of smoke tickling my nose.

The fare ignored me, finishing braiding the rabbits together with the heavy chain, then fished out some little things outta her jacket. I couldn't help but have my curiousity piqued, and I leaned closer to see what she was putting in the rabbits' hands, forcing them to clutch them tightly. Odd little trinkets, they were, little blue 'n white saucers, like the ones that little grey men ride in some of those comics they sell in the newstand. Suddenly, something was made clear to me. "So that's why they call ya the 'Alien'..." I muttered, staring at the little trinkets. The fare glanced over at me, that mask revealing nothing 'bout what she was thinkin', and then turned back to puttin' those toys in the rabbits' hands.

"That's right, my little calling card. Would you like one?" The bottom of my stomach dropped, and it must've shown on my face, 'cause she just started chuckling in that weird, undefinable way of hers. She got to the last one, and started dragging the corpses to the end of the dock. The look she gave me was pretty easy to figger out, an' I quickly ran up with my cig clenched in my teeth, and grabbed hold of the other end of the chain. Between the two of us, we managed to drag the dead weight to the edge, and pushed them over. I watched as the last of them sank into the murky depths, wondering if I was to be next.

About a minute had passed before I noticed how quiet it was. I turned around to see that the mysterious killer, that 'Alien', had disappeared entirely. Not a single trace of her. This made me nervous, and I carefully crept to the girl, eye darting from side to side. I circled 'round the old girl, even peeked in the back of the blood stained trunk, but she was gone. Heart damn near jumping up my throat, I slammed the trunk closed, and bolted to the driver's side, ready to hop in and get out, fare or no. That didn't happen, though: when I yanked the door open, I noticed, sittin' on my seat, a neat pile of cash, more money than I had ever made in a month.

Sittin' pretty on top of the pile of dough was a little saucer, painted in green and white.

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I kept my eye on any news on that office. Fortunately, I didn't get pegged in anything, but I did find out that it 'pparently belonged to the big medicine company, Eientei, and that a couple crates of nasty narco went up in flames before the fire brigade came 'round. Eientei denied any knowledge of the drugs bein' held there, but sold the place off dirt cheap to some religious group. I still don't get just why the Alien decided to kill those long ears and torch the place, but I wasn't 'bout to ask any questions and get people interested in me.

I hadn't seen the Alien since that day, all those years ago, but I always kept a watch out. For a long time, everytime I saw a dame with gorgeous legs, or a pretty slant to her jaw, my guts tightened up with fear. I also kept that little toy in my coat pocket every day, wonderin' when she'd be payin' me another visit, to follow through on that threat of hers. Maybe she intended to kill me with just fear alone, maybe?

Years passed, and no Alien came by to slit my throat or dismantle the girl, so after a long while, I figured that we were in the clear. That didn't mean I was completely safe: I had to deal with my fair share of cartin' 'round shady folks, being held up by gangsters, gettin' shanked, 'n the like. It kept me sharp, or so I liked to hope, 'till that night when a green-haired dame mugged me.

So, yeah. Maybe this challenge should be extended to being two weeks long, since the last couple have all been extended in one way or another.

[Iced Fairy]

The dame was stiff.  The morgue people had already gone over her and prettied her up, which was for the best.

I took a quick picture of her.  Not that any paper would publish it, but I might need the proof for my story.  And no one could claim that face framed by pink hair could belong to anyone else.

"You done here Mac?  This ain't exactly legal ya know," the kassha behind me said.  I nodded and took a step back so Orin could slide the cabinet shut.  I'd seen what I'd come here for.

Yuyuko Saigonji, the biggest bootlegger in the Yakumo family.  Or at least, that's who the dame had been.  Now she was "Jane Doe #12."

"Cause of death?"

"Suicide," Orin replied with a certain bitter irony.

That of course meant it was being covered up by the cops on the mob's payroll.  Which explained why this little kitty cat called me up.

I looked over at the coroner.  "What's the real cause of death?"

"Someone nailed her to a tree with a knife.  Right through the chest."  The kassha pulled out a pack and lit up a cigarette.  "Death was quick, but not instantaneous."

I swiped a smoke off of her and lit it up while Orin squawked in protest.  "What do the cops who aren't on the payroll think?"

"We think you're putting your nose where it doesn't belong."

I swore softly.  Sure enough chief Satori was standing at the door, giving us 'the look.'

"I was just heading out," I said as I walked out of the morgue.  "I owe you lunch Orin."

"You owe me way more then one lunch for this Aya," she said with a sigh.

I left as Satori started chewing out the poor coroner.  It was weird.  The cops who weren't corrupt seemed to think it was wrong to give us fine reporters information, even though it was the only way to get things done.  Idealists.  What are you gonna do?

I'd been an idealist like that once.  It was one of the reasons I was dead broke.

I don't want to talk about the other reasons.

I headed out into the street and hopped onto the back bumper of the trolley with the kids and the bums.  As it started the slow journey to downtown I started trying to figure out what the heck was happening.

The biggest question of course was, is this sign of a gang war, or did Yuyuko somehow cross the don?

It was hard for me to believe that it was a internal matter.  Yukari and Yuyuko were friends.  Close friends.  Honestly the only reason Yuyuko wasn't helping run the thing was because the woman wasn't the moving and shaking type.  She liked doing the runs and that's it.  For Yukari to have snuffed her....  Well, I just didn't believe it.

But there was something weird.  I always figured if Yuyuko was in a casket, her driver Youmu would be right beside her.  There was no way someone could have jumped the woman when her bodyguard wasn't within shouting distance.

Had Youmu back-stabbed her boss?  That seemed less likely, but this was the mafia.  They were only slightly less treacherous then reporters after all.

If that was the case Yukari's hitmen would be scouring the city.

I sighed.  I didn't have enough information yet.  The good thing was I knew how to get that info.  The bad thing was it meant talking to the mob directly.  And that was always a tricky affair.

Especially given that I'd be talking to her.

Still there was no way around it.  I was out of whiskey, and the rent was long past late.  I needed cash, and that meant I needed a story.

As I headed back towards my flat, I kept an eye out.  Sure enough I spotted the little street rat about halfway home.  “Hey, kid!”

The little fairy girl in worn clothes left her little gang and ran up to me.  “It's Cirno!  Not kid!”

“Yeah yeah fairy.”  Her angry expression melted away when I help up two nickles.  “I need you to take a message for me.”

Little brat smirked at me.  “Trying to get a date?”

I took a swat at her but she ducked.  “Just tell the Yakumos that Aya wants to see them.”

“Which one?” Cirno asked with a smile.

“They'll know which one.”

The little kid ran over to her friends and held up the cash.  The scamps began running off towards the trolly station, already planing the speech they were gonna give the mooks at the front door to try to scam another nickle off 'em.

Wonder if that ever worked?  Too bad they won't tell me.

I shrugged and headed back to my apartment.  I had to make sure my suit was pressed.

----

The speakeasy was bustling when I got there.  It was Wensday night, and that meant the owner herself would be making an appearance.

I walked up to the bouncer /ticket-keeper who was guarding the back room.  “I'm here to see the pretty bird sing.”

Suika gave me a long look up and down before holding out her hand.  “Looks like you managed to dress properly this time Ace.  Anyway the fee's one fifty.

I swore under my breath.  “It was a dollar even last time.  What's with that?”

The oni sniffed at me.  “Rent went up.  You paying, or not?”

I sighed and fished around for some quarters to go with the dollar.  Suika happily took a major portion of my remaining funds and opened the door.  “The owner's just about to start, so you'll have to wait to chat with her.  But you can get two complimentary 'sodas' while you wait.”

At least service hadn't dropped.  One fifty was still cheep for the amount of whiskey I was gonna be getting.

I walked in a headed straight to the bar.  The green haired woman in a suit behind the counter simply poured me a glass.  Wriggle always knew what a customer wanted.  Admittedly what a customer usually wanted off of her was a strong drink, but Wriggle always remembered the details.  That was important in a bartender.

Properly equipped I looked around, but she wasn't here yet.  I wasn't surprised.  She never was one to be early.  So I turned to the smokey stage.  It was time for Mystia to sing.

The human backup players started, and then the smokey air was filled with wolf whistles as Mystia slinked out in a sleeveless black dress.  It came with gloves that went up to her elbows, and with slits that were longer then the gloves.  The room rapidly fell silent as she grabbed hold of the microphone like a lover.

“The singing sea
The talking trees”

As the mournful words filled the air, I slowly sipped my whiskey.

“Are silent in a noisy way
The stars are bright
But give no light
The world spins backwards every day”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.  I started and turned, just in time to see her enter.

Ran Yakumo.

(Oh, look at that)

She'd kept her golden hair short, and the brilliant sheen off her ears and tails complimented the sleek dark purple dress she wore perfectly.  Her honey eyes glimmered in the light of the speakeasy, and my stupid little heart fluttered a bit when she smiled at me.

There was applause.  I thought it was fitting, before I realized they were applauding for the song, not for her.

She slid gracefully into the chair beside me.  “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Never,” I replied.

She smiled at me again and politely thanked the bartender for her drink while I tried not to stare.  It was hard.  I hadn't seen her in... a long time.

Ran tossed back her whiskey, she was that kinda dame, and then turned her full attention to me.  “So Ace Reporter Aya Shameimaru.  What is it you wanted to say to me?”

I bit back several unprofessional requests, and forced myself to get to business.  “I'm sorry for your loss.”

A cloud passed over her pretty face at that.  “I see.  So you heard about poor Yuyuko then.”

I nodded.  “I take it that it wasn't an in house fight then.”

Her eyes narrowed.  Fortunately my other love was calling me, so I didn't shrink away.  Much.

“No.”  She paused for a moment.  “It'd be better if you dropped this Aya dear.  The Yakumo won't try to stop you, but it's dangerous.”

“I don't suppose you'd explain why that is pretty lady?”

She just pulled out a pair of smokes, and put them to her lips.  I lit them and she transferred one to me.

After a long drag I figured she'd given me her answer.  “Well,” I replied, “I'm afraid that's the only story I got.  So I'll be following it anyway.”

After a moment I continued softly.  “Thanks for your concern though, Ran.”

Ran stared at me with those golden eyes of hers again.  “You know, if it's money you need you can get a new job.  There's plenty of places a clever person can fit in.  Especially an Ace like you.”

I tipped my hat to her.  “If I meet a clever person I'll send them along to you.  Me?  I'm just a reporter.”  I lowered my voice a little.  “Besides, wasn't the only reason you saw me because your Boss wanted me wrapped around your finger?  A pet writer at the paper.”

“You know it wasn't just that Aya.”  She looked hurt, and I had to force down the churning in my gut that look gave me.  “That may be how we met, but there was more to us then that.”

“There was.  But was why we met.”  I finished my whiskey.  “And why we're apart.”

“Oh how I love you so, lost in those memories
And now you've gone
I feel the pain, feeling like a fool, adieu.”

We sat, with Mystia's singing giving body to our silence.  Wriggle refilled my glass.  Our cigarettes slowly burned down.

The crowd applauded again.  Our cigarettes were down to ashes.

Ran downed her second glass and stood up.  “I know I can't stop you Ace.  But this is bad news, Aya.  And it's totally hush hush.  I'm not gonna sing.”  She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.  My face burned at the touch of her lips.  “Take care of yourself.”

“Ran.”

She paused and I swallowed the lump in my throat.  “Why don't you ever kiss me on the lips?”

“Because,” she smiled sadly.  “I promised myself that would be my apology if Yukari ever asked me to kill you.”

She turned around and walked out of my life again, leaving me with her perfume, a death threat, a aching heart and a clue.

Some days joining the mafia seemed very tempting.

But it'd never pan out.  She loves me because I'm too stupid to take orders, and I love her because I can't have her.  We're the perfect couple, each equally broken.

That's what I tell myself over and over as I sat there on my own again.

After a bit I realized the crowd was a little thinner, and the whiskey was gone.  I sighed and looked around.  “Hey Wriggle.  Mystia coming out any time soon?”

Wriggle looked up from the glasses she was polishing.  “I think she was staying in the back for a little longer miss.  Want me to call her out?”

“If you'd be so gracious.”

The bartender gave me a little nod, then slipped out.  In a few minutes she came back with Mystia, who was wearing a much more reasonable brown dress.  She gave me a look, like she was assessing how much talking to me was worth.  She probably was.  This dame had a head for finance.  Dumb as a brick everywhere else, but great at finance.

“There's something you want to ask me Ace?  I figured you'd had all the company you needed for the night,” she said.

“Very funny,” I sighed.  “Look I just got a few simple questions, then I'm gone.”

She shrugged.  “Sounds fair.  Keep giving me good reviews and we've got a deal.”

I didn't argue.  It's not like her place was gonna stop being the number one spot in town after all.  “You've got the best ears on the ground.  You heard anyone outside of the Yakumo trying to sell whiskey?”

Mystia's eyebrows rose at that.  “Oh, so the rumors are true?”

“Rumors?”

Wriggle spoke up next.  “I heard there's a new group out there willing to sell to anyone.  Small distributors, even direct to people.  The stories are all fuzzy though, and the prices on the bottles aren't competitive to people like us.”

I frowned.  “But who'd be stupid enough to challenge the Yakumo in this city?  And who'd be dumb enough to just sell to any mook?  The Feds will bust them in no time.  J Edgar Hoover loves busting second string mafia.”

"I heard that these people didn't care about the fed,” Mystia smiled.  “It's a Canadian orginization.  All the people on this side of the border are either muscle or stooges.”

Canada, eh?

Looked like I was taking a trip.

---

The ride on the ferry was as dull as usual, save from the occasional looks I got from the humans.  Youkai aren't supposed to be buying the cheap seats, but I figure, what the heck.  It's not like I have a reputation to save, right?

Anyway, Canada.  I'd never expected someone on that side of the border to get involved with our messes.  Might as well have said that liquor was being smuggled by Moonanites.  Still Mystia knew business.  And if she said Canadians were involved, either it was true, or someone was making a big show about it being true.

As I wandered onto the shores of fair Canada I looked around for a booth that sold cigarettes.  They were always cheaper over here, even with the 'stupid American' markup, so I figure'd I should take my share.

I'd just found one when the sound of a horse approaching caused me to check the road.  Sure enough a familiar white haired mounty was there.  I guessed my luck was turning around.  She caught me looking at her and frowned down at me.

“Aya.  You're up here sticking your nose in other people's business again eh?” Momiji asked with her usual dour tone.

“Just doing a bit of research ma'am,” I replied cheerily.  I figured I should play the part of a stupid tourist for now.  “I wanted to interview a few breweries before I headed home.”

Momiji frowned.  “Really?  I figured you'd be looking into the gang war that's brewing on your side.”

“Well now isn't that interesting,” I smiled brightly at her.  “Perhaps you could give me the scoop on the matter my fine friend.  For the public interest.”

“Eh?”  Momiji looked at me strangely for a second, then her face fell.  It seemed completely out of place until she started talking again.  “Then you hadn't heard.  I should have known.”

I was confused, then I started to get scared when she slipped out of the saddle.  “One of the Yakumo family's 'hidden' stills went up in flames.  Word is probably just hitting the street, but they say it was a firebombing.  And all the family heads were there inspecting the place at the time.”

I felt my stomach fall out from under me.  I must of slumped or something because Momiji moed forward to catch me.  I waved her off and killed my emotions.  I had a job to do dammit!  “I see.  Any more information?”

“No.  It's still early, eh?”  She replied.  “They called us because one of the victims said something about Canada, but the guy passed away soon after.”

“I see.”  I blinked a few times.  “You know if....”

Momiji shook her head.  “Like I said, no one's been identified to us.”

I nodded again.  “Right.  Thanks for the scoop.”  I turned away and headed towards the stall.  I needed a smoke.  Lots of smokes.

“Aya...”

“I'm fine Momiji.”

It was a lie.  But she couldn't call me on it.  After all Canada's finest had work to do.

I got the smokes and then grabbed a pay phone.  Damn call cost too much, and it took twelve rings but I got through.

“Who the hell is this?”

I sighed at the kassha's voice.  “Aya.  You know why I'm calling.”

“Shit.”  There was a long silence on the other end.  “Sorry Mac, I don't got much for ya.  Feds kicked us all out.  Chief Satori's fucking pissed too.”

“Do you have any info?”

“Well the old hag herself isn't there.  They figured that out right quick.”  There was another long silence.

Eventually the silence started to gnaw at me, slowly tearing into my gut bit by bit.  “Tell me Orin.”

“Well ya see Mac.  They....”  She took a deep breath.  “They're saying they think they found a kitsune in the wreckage.  Nothings confirmed ya know but....”

“I gotcha.  Thanks.”

“Aya, I-”

I hung up.  It's not like it mattered, right?

----

I wandered aimlessly for a while, burning through about a half pack of cigarettes.  The streets just sort of blurred past me.

Eventually I realized I'd stopped in front of a large brewery.  Specifically the one I'd wanted to investigate.

I couldn't find any good reason to stand here and die, so I forced myself to walk inside.

The secretary was typing when I walked in.  She spun around on her chair when the bell on the door chimed.  “Oh!  Welcome to the Autumn Leaves brewery.  How can I help you?”

I held up my press card.  “Aya Shameimaru.  I hope this isn't a bad time.  I'm looking into a story, and I'd like to speak with someone in charge.  Under confidentiality if they want it.”

She frowned at me.  She could tell something about me was wrong, but it wasn't her job to make those decisions.  “I'll call Ms Aki for you.”

“Thanks.”

A lesser goddess in a surprisingly tasteful orange-red business dress arrived not too long after.  “Hello Ms Shameimaru.  I'm between paperwork right now, so I'm not sure how much time I can spare, but if it's just a few questions about my shop or the industry...?”

By then I'd assembled enough of my brain to follow the routine.  “Yeah.  You see, I'm doing a small piece about smuggling.  I wanted to talk to one of the big producers to find out how our friends in Canada are working on our behalf, despite not needing to.”

She looked at me carefully, smile unwavering.  She knew I was buttering her up, but she wasn't sure if I was trying to trap her, or someone else.  I did my best to look innocent.

“Well, it'll have to be quick, but I can answer a few questions,” she finally replied.  She was obviously smart.  She could leave whenever she wanted with that kinda excuse.

Fortunately I wasn't after her.  “I have some notes here that I wanted to confirm.  First off, and I don't want names, most of the liquor going cross border comes from breweries owned by Americans, correct?”

She nodded.  “Indeed.  Certain organized crime families bought out some under performing breweries and started smuggling.  I'm afraid I can't explain why they haven't been taken care of though.”

I shrugged.  “What about the people you sell to?  Do you think some restaurants are buying extra cases to send to America?”

Sizuha nodded politely to me.  “Probably a few.  There's no real way to prevent our buyers from letting a few bottles 'slip' across the border.  We do try to prevent major trafficking by checking sales figures.  As do all our competitors really.  Except for the ones the Yakumo own of course.”

“Hm... And no businesses have started up recently?”

“No,” she shook her head.  “It's not like you can just rush into the business.  At least not with quality product.”

“I thought it only took a couple of months,” I replied.  “At least for average stuff.”

“Well perhaps if you were only shipping it to America,” Shizuha said with a shrug.  “But getting the licenses to sell in Canada takes some time.”  She thought for a moment.  “I suppose someone might be just sending brew down the river, but they'd be losing a lot of money that way.”

“I see.  Well thanks for your time miss.  Should I list you as a source?”

“Anonymous source please,” she replied politely.

I nodded and left.

---

I don't remember how I got back across the lake, much less how I made it back to my flat, but some time later I woke up with a hangover.

Groaning I managed to stumble through my morning routine.  I only plucked out a few feathers while preening and my hair wasn't standing up.  That was good enough really.

I proceeded to sit at my desk and think.  Or mostly just sit at my desk.  I was supposed to be getting a story, but there was no need for investigative reporting now.  The nine to fivers working for the various papers would all be churning out their own take.  There was no way the police would keep it secret.

All I had was another dead friend, and a lead on river smuggling.  In short nothing.

Then it hit me.

Anyone trying to cut in on the Yakumo had to be working in volume.  Which meant they could only be shipping things down one river.  The Shirokawa.  The Sanzu was too well watched for everyone who didn't have the police in their pockets.  The others were all too small.

It was a stupid lead to follow up on.  Following the river looking for a hidden port?  That seemed like a recipe for disaster, but it was all I'd got.

Besides.  If I found and exposed it I'd toss a big wrench in their plans.

I grabbed my camera and jacket.  I might be walking for a while today.

----

It was night time when I finally found the damn place.  I honestly would have walked right past it if they hadn't set up lights.

It was still an impressive operation.  It was mostly rabbits.  Probably 30 of them, each moving crates off a simple raft in near silence.  Every time they finished unloading a raft a new one would come in.  I could see three shacks where they probably stored the product until they could truck it off to the buyers.

I snapped a few shots, moving to take pics from multiple angles.  Once again I wasn't expecting much out of the pics, but they'd confirm my story hopefully.  I was well on the way to the front page.  And to sending these scum up the river.

I started packing up when the last raft sailed off.  I figured when they weren't busy working they might actually be busy looking for intruders.  It was time to book.

I just finished moving my film to a waterproof bag when, suddenly there was a burst of light and a massive pain in my head.

---

I woke up to find two magician types looking down at me.  My head was aching, I was tied to something, probably a chair, and there was a cement mixer here in the shed with me.  Behind me I could hear the sound of the river from where the floor should be.  Things weren't looking good.

“I told you she'd be awake soon Yorihime,” the calmer looking one said.

“I didn't argue dear sister,” replied the one who's look screamed 'enforcer.'

I wasn't exactly in a position to ask the questions I wanted to here.  I tried playing dumb.  “Look, I don't want any trouble, and I don't want to know what you're doing.  Just blindfold me and dump me somewhere and I promise my lips'll be sealed.”

“Hm...”  The enforcer girl smirked at me.  “I've never thought about using a blindfold with cement overshoes.  That an American thing?”

“Now now, no need to taunt the reporter,” the other woman replied insincerely before turning to me.  “We might give you a blindfold.  If you answer our questions.”

“Sounds fair.  I'm good with questions, though I usually prefer asking them,” I replied with as much bravado as I could muster.

“How many of the Yakumo know about this place,” Yorihime asked.

This was going to be a bad questioning session it seemed.  “I don't know.  I ain't part of the Yakumo family.  I'm just a reporter.”

I expected a backhand for that, but they just shook their heads sadly.  “I think she's trying to lie to us Toyohime.”

“Indeed Yorihime.”  The brains held up a photo in front of me.  It was me, sitting with Ran at Mystia's.  I closed my eyes.  Never thought the dame would get me killed like this.  “So.  Want to rethink your answer?”

“If you were spying on us you know we each went our separate ways.”  I managed to snarl.  “She's just a good friend.  Assuming the dame's still alive.”

“You honestly think-!”

“Wait sister,” Toyohime said.

The woman looked down at me for a long moment.  “I think she's telling the truth.  Or at least most of it.”

“You're smarter then most,” I replied.  I did my best to make sure she knew it wasn't a compliment.

“Which means we don't need her.”  My gut tightened up again as the two nodded to each other.  “Let's have Reisen clean the place up.”

I opened my mouth, maybe to beg for my life, maybe to spit out a curse at them.  I don't remember.  When suddenly something outside exploded loudly.

The blast was followed up by the rattling sound of machine gun fire.  The two women each stood there shocked for a moment before forgetting all about me and running outside.

For the next five, ten minutes I sat in the shack, rocking back and forth to try to get my chair to fall over and hoping none of the stray bullets that chewed the damn shack up hit me.

Then silence fell like a hammer.

As my ears slowly stopped ringing I could hear injured people crying faintly over the creaking of the shack door.  Then I heard footsteps approaching, two pairs.

The first face through the door almost made me weep tears of joy.  It was Youmu.  That meant the Yakumo had found this operation and taken it out.  I was in much better shape.

The second face through the door nearly made my heart stop.

I'd never seen her in her working clothes, but they fit her well.  It didn't have the devastating effect of her dress, but there was something appealing about the power and control her dark purple suit radiated.

“Glad to see you're not dead,” I managed to say.

She gave me a ghost of a smile.  Youmu however frowned and fiddled with her straight razor.  “Ya know Ran, we can't let anyone know we didn't torch this place completely.”

Ran's next words killed all the joy I'd found.  “Yeah.  Give me some time alone.”

I couldn't think of what to say as Youmu left the room and Ran slid forward.  I could see pain in her eyes, but also resolve.  She reached down, cupped my chin in her hands, and gave me the sweetest kiss on the lips I've ever had.

It lasted forever.  It ended far too soon.  As she pulled away I managed to lean my chair forward and meet her lips again.  Once again I was in heaven.

The chair finally slipped back.  We didn't move for a bit.

I wanted to ask her so many things.  To beg for my life.  To see if there might be a chance for us, away from this madness.  But in the end I had to settle for trying to make her smile.  “I accept your apology.”

I actually got a gasping chuckle and a teary smile out of that.

“Thank you Aya.  And goodbye.”

Her pistol rang out, three times.  There was a burning in my chest and the sensation of falling into black murky depths.

----

I looked up at the incredulous kid.  “And that's the story.  I changed my name, headed out west, and kept my reporting quiet.”

Hatate looked like she didn't believe a word I'd said.  Whatever.  I rubbed at the scar on my shoulder.  It wasn't my problem.

“Alright, I can see how pretending to be dead cause the mafia was after you is a good idea, but why are you still running flower shows and city council elections?  Prohibition's over!”  The girl waved at the bar we were sitting in.  “It's not like they'll get angry if their old alcohol smuggling station gets revealed today.”

I sighed and finished off another glass of whiskey.  “If I ever show my face again, they'll know Ran deliberately missed.”

Hatate paused at that.  Even a kid like her could figure out what that would mean.

“So why did you tell me this?”

“I dunno.”  I tossed my tab on the bar and stood.  “Maybe it's because I still want to be a real reporter.  Maybe I'm just drunk.”  I walked towards the hat rack and grabbed my hat.  “Maybe it's because I wanted to talk about her again.”  Hatate stood, but didn't follow.  “Anyways, no one will believe you so it doesn't really matter, does it.”

I put my hat on and headed out into the rain outside.

---

Pushing the deadline, and kinda weak, but I figured I should let someone have the pleasure of beating me.

[Kips McKipzerson]

WARNING. WARNING. GIANT WALL OF TEXT INBOUND.

I made many mistakes in my life as a private detective, tonight being one. It was just me, myself, and I as I walked down the road. This town?s seen everything, and not in a good way.  First off, There?s the mob. They control practically every person in the town, ranging from the owners of business?s, to the nameless hobos on the street.  For all I know, my best friend is in the mob, aint it wouldn?t surprise me.

There?s also the prostitutes. Now these women don?t exactly bother me much, But the only thing you hear on the news nowadays is that one got shot. Hell last week it was Mystia Lorelai, the girl of 32nd Street. But still, this story isn?t about all those little things. It?s about the big things, like what happened today?

Today I was walking ?home? from the bar. When I say ?home?, I mean moreso a pretty run-down apartment. Then I see this woman. She?s really beautiful, so I thought, as any other man would in the town, was just a girl trying to turn some tricks. But then I got another look at her.

She seemed? Purer then most of the town. Long, blonde hair, with two ribbons on the two locks of hair that are somehow separated from the rest. With her she had some other gal, with much shorter blonde hair. I didn?t really think I?d ever really talk to them or see them again in my life, as I was hoping they wouldn?t be corrupted by this hellhole for a town.

I was wrong.

She walks right on past me, and, I feel something. I turn around, and she?s gone. I?m nowhere near any alleyways, their was no cars, and as soon as I thought of it I struck down the thought that she was flying. I was wondering if it was the booze getting to me. ?No, it?s not?, said the girl that was with the one that just disappeared. She has somewhat of a mature, elegant voice. She sounded honest.

I was wondering why she didn?t leave with the other girl. They seemed like good friends, giggling and talking to each other. Almost as if she?s reading your mind, She doesn?t seem too surprised as to why she stayed back here.
?Hello, My name is Ran. I guess you?re wondering why my M- err, I mean my friend left.? Wait wait wait, Was she about to say something else for a second there? ?Well, it?s nice to meet you Miss Ran.? I reply. ?So whats a gal like you doing in such a cesspool of a city like this? It?s not safe here, you know.? She responds giving me a short story as how she?s traveling with her friend around the world, and its pretty much a vacation for them.

Now this strikes you as odd, since there?s nowhere else in this world to go to, aside from this big ol? city. See, We leave in Gensokyo. It?s a tiny ?country? so to speak, with apparently ?magical? beings. Now I find this to be bullshit, but after my curious side caught up with me, I learned a fact that not many others knew. This city used to be pure, with forest?s everywhere, and mountains, but that all changed when that family came to town.

There?s also apparently a border, a magical border, that keeps out anyone, and keeps in everyone. It was made by Yuraki something or other, and is maintained by the? Hakumen clan? I don?t know the details, all I know is that the whatever clan must live in order for us all to be ?safe?. I?d learned that their still alive, and after more research, found this out to be true. However, they were outside the town in a secluded area. It kinda figures.

The second thing that tipped me off is that: Why here? There?s about 3 other cities to go to. The ?human? village, now overrun by weak youkai gang members. There?s also the Youkai Mountain, which is almost as bad as this place if it weren?t for the Kappa giving out those ?self protection devices?. I had one in my pocket right now. It had a trigger, and looked like one of those ?Gun? things my grandpa used to tell me about when I was but a little boy. There?s also the mansion, Entei or some shit like that. It?s a weird-ass sounding Japanese name, that?s for sure. It?s basically the ?doctor? of the whole entire ?world? here, but they also offer themselves as a hotel from time to time.

?So why are you here of all places? You could be in much, much safer places then here.? I asked. She replied with something under her breath, and next thing I know, I?m outcold.

I wake up in a small, disgusting smelling room. It?s almost like someone hasn?t cleaned this place up in 100 years. I check my pockets for my gun, and its still there, and I thank whatever lord there is on watch today. Then I notice something: A small, petite girl sitting in a corner, facing away from me. When I say ?petite?, I mean that she?s wearing somewhat expensive clothing. She?s got blonde hair, some kinda weird shower cap-like thing with a ribbon, and a small ponytail sticking out of the left side of the hat. Then I look at her back.

I was horrified. Such a cute, innocent girl like this had such? things on her back? They looked almost like something you?d put on a Christmas tree. I could see that it was pretty recent too, since it seems to be bloody. It kinda looked like there was one big curved strand of metal on her back, with crystals of multiple bright colors on it.

?Hey, whats with that? thing on your back??

Needless to say, That was my worst choice ever. She turned around, snarled, and made some kind of metal pole thing appear out of nowhere. I god damn nearly shit myself when it starting turning a burning red. I then saw something in her eyes? Her burning red eyes. They almost stared into my soul, and I was scarred shitless. She held the pole thing up to my head. I reached for my gun, but I made too much noise and she slapped it away. I was going to die and I knew it.

?Wanna play?? Were the last few words I heard?


BAD END

BONUS ENDING TIME ACTIVATE

GOOD END 1:
Today I was walking ?home? from the bar. When I say ?home?, I mean moreso a pretty run-down apartment. Then I see this woman. She?s really beautiful, so I thought.

I decided it would be for the best if I just completely ignored this gal and walked away, back home, half drunk. After that day, I never learned who that woman was, and I lived an uneventful life. I found myself a woman, and we moved out of town. I still don?t know who that woman was, but I had a strange feeling she could change my life?

NORMAL END:

?So why are you here of all places? You could be in much, much safer places then here.? I asked.

I heard her mutter something and reach down into his back pocket. I knew this was trouble. I jumped back, and pointed my gun at her face. I decided it was either I live, or I die. I prefer living.

Though, I kinda of regret doing what I did there. She was a beautiful woman, and bullets don?t really add to the beauty. But, hell, in this town, anything goes. For all you know, your own kids can try to kill you?

BAD END 1:
I was wrong.
She walks right on past me.

I tug her shirt lightly, asking her where shes going. I then notice that she has her hand sticking through a purple gap. Then it all hit me.

The mob, the Yakumo family, apparently could make these purple gaps, called ?hellholes? by most. Most think it leads to another realm, where people get tortured all day everyday. Others think its just a form of transport. I thought it was my death. It turns out I was right when I was clobbed with a metal pipe from the girl behind me.

GOOD END 2:
?Hey, whats with that? thing on your back??

I wanted to say that, but I held myself back. I then noticed the door right next to me. She wouldn?t know if I slipped out, right? I open the door, and it creaks. By the time she notices I?m out the door. I kinda feel sorry for her, but it was for the best. Good ol? gut never lied to me, and he said she was bad news.

I later learned that she was one of the last vampires in Gensokyo, if not the last vampire. She apparently ate her own sister, and left only one maid alive, which I would assume it for the purpose of food. I most likely could?va, and should?va, killed that girl, Named Flandre. Just one bullet and she?d be dead, and I?ve have helped out mankind just a little bit more.

BEST END:
?Hey, whats with that? thing on your back??

Needless to say, That was my worst choice ever. She turned around, snarled, and made some kind of metal pole thing appear out of nowhere.

I grabbed my gun quickly and I shot her in the head. She was still coming at me, though a bit staggered. While I had another five bullets, I was somewhat losing hope if a shot to the head didn?t kill her. Then it hit me: If she wont die by a shot to the noggin, then one to the heart would work, yeah? I fired off three rounds. All hit her dead on in the chest. I felt sorry for the little girl, but, well, anyone can kill you nowadays. If you hesitate, you?re gunna die.

I realized that the girl was Flandre Scarlet, the vampire who ate her own sister and staff, save one maid, and gained a giant boost in power. She was the actual spearhead of the mafia. It shocked me though, but that wasn?t on my mind at the time when I was getting my bounty claim from the cops. Apparently her bounty was preeeetty god damned high, for arson, slavery, murder, and all sorts of other things.

I decided to get married, have a kid, and live a normal life. I hired some bodyguards to keep us all protected. It worked, and me and my wife died happily in peace, while our kid led a successful life, and even killed the co-founder of the mafia, Yukari Yakumo. I was other them from heaven.


My wifes name was Tenshi. We are celestials.



I just woke up a good hour or two ago and wrote this after thinking for some time. I dont really know much about Noir-styled stuff, other then it usually involves the mafia, fedoras, and rogue cops/detectives. Fuck I missed out on the fedora but lets just say he has one kay?

I never gave the main character a name, because, frankly, I couldn't think of one. Ah well.
This is also my first fanfiction. I'm extremely pleased with it, though it doesnt have much fedora in it. Ah well.

[Esifex]

Yeah, that lack of fedoras, man... that's real unprofessional, y'see? So we's gonna hafta teach you a little lesson, now. But don't worries, we teaches good around here - so good, you'll learn how to swim! And we'll even give yas some new shoes, too, dem on your feets ain't lookin' too sharp no mores.

[Alfred F. Jones]

Calling for a pause, judges are sorting out what work needs to get done and who to send it to. o/'

[Kips McKipzerson]

Kay. Good luck to everyone.
You know I'd figure my first fanfic would be something involving yuuka. Fuck was I wrong. but noirs cool too.
though I forgot the fedora and now i'm tied down to cement at the bottom of the ocean

[MaxKnight]

Note to self: don't post so quickly, even if I get done early. >_>

Every single story since I posted is quite awesome; I find myself envious of everyone else's talent.

[Iced Fairy]

Heh, don't kick yourself Maxperson.  You did fine.

Though sitting on your work and refining it is always a good practice.  I suggest it to all writers.  Especially those who can't grab proofreaders.

[Kips McKipzerson]

Wait, so you mean most other writers get someone else to proofread their stuff?

[Sect]

Sometimes you can kick out an idea and it works out fine, and sometimes it takes a lot of work, hand wringing, and just plan hammering it out to get it to work out right. The Valentine's Day one is one that I'm very satisfied with, and it took only a few hours. This one... it took two full weeks, the first of which was figuring out what to write (I had to go through two other plots to get to the one I used), and a full week of just trying to get the words on paper (or, rather, WordPad).

[Ryuu]

Wait, so you mean most other writers get someone else to proofread their stuff?

having someone else to read over your entry for things like flow and pacing and stuff is really nice

right after writing a product, it's harder than it seems to reread it for such things(at least for me), so proofreaders are very very good for that



also in before esi yells at me for not having an entry : (

[Kips McKipzerson]

Ryuu needs to make an entry
like now
it could just be like

Marisa: this town sucks
everyone else: OMFG IM MAFIA BANG BANG BANG
Marisa: OHNOOOOOOOOOOOOO ded

best fanfic ever?

[capt. h]

Note to self: don't post so quickly, even if I get done early. >_>

Every single story since I posted is quite awesome; I find myself envious of everyone else's talent.

I enjoyed reading your story to the end. Do you have any idea how much talent that takes? You have to be incredible with the pacing to hold my interest.

(I'm a bit jealous of everyone else's writing energy myself. I could never have fun writing the long, descriptive paragraphs Rou does, and I can barely hold any scene for half the length of Rou's short without losing interest. In the time Rou spends covering one hour of Mokou's office my one-shot would have become an overarching epic with multiple plot lines and no end in sight.)

I myself don't have a proof reader.

Ryuu needs to make an entry
like now
it could just be like

Marisa: this town sucks
everyone else: OMFG IM MAFIA BANG BANG BANG
Marisa: OHNOOOOOOOOOOOOO ded

best fanfic ever?

http://www.shrinemaiden.org/forum/index.php/topic,8444.0.html

BEST. NOIR. FANFIC. EVER.

[Suikama]

Marisa: this town sucks
everyone else: OMFG IM MAFIA BANG BANG BANG
Marisa: OHNOOOOOOOOOOOOO ded

This is my entry