I wanted to write some short stories based around the non superpowered people living in the Rogue Islands. This is part 1 of my first attempt focusing on a Private Dectective. It's not great but has been written between phone calls at work so I can live with that.
The Case of the Boat and the Spider
Welcome to Mercy City, Paragons twisted little sister that daddy locked in the basement. Shell steal your heart in a second and sell it to the Vahzilok in half as long
The names Sam Smythe, private detective and general nosey parker. I moved to Mercy 4 years ago to try and drum up some business. In a City of Heroes theres precious little room for dirt that doesnt require super powered cleaning. I figured some time on the flipside would help me make ends meet. What with Villains intent on whipping each other for Lord Arachnos favour there would be plenty of jobs for small fry like me to pick up and still remain below the radar. I was right about the jobs but wrong about the radar, dead wrong in fact.
It might me a cliché but it all began with a girl, the kind your mother warned you about and your father wished hed met. She came to me looking for some information on the whereabouts of her father, seems the old guy had gone for a walk and never comeback. As common an occurrence as this was anywhere in the Rogue Islands this girl wanted me to try and find him. Ill admit I thought it was hopeless but Im not rich enough to turn down paying jobs. Besides you never know the guy could be alive and if not then I might be able to find enough of him to hold a decent burial.
I got as much detail from the girl as I could and decided on my first move. Hed been a fisherman all his life and been sailing out of Mercy Island for 30 years so his boat seemed as good a place to start as any. . For those that havent been for a wander in any of the Rogue Islands illustrious locales let me tell you its certainly an education. Assuming you dont get accosted for routine searches by Arachnos Soldiers or Rogue Island rent-a-cops then your running a gambit between rival gang wars. After a few months it becomes second nature to keep glancing over your shoulder and looking that little bit deeper into the shadows.
I headed out of Mercy Citys mammoth walls and into the rubble-strewn mess that is Mercy Island. Recently theres been an increase in the low-level super thugs thanks to the recent spate of Arachnos sponsored jailbreaks, which is something of a boon for once. They help to keep the snakes and gang numbers down meaning Joe Nobody here can get around pretty much unmolested. As I reached the docks I sighted her, The Salty Spray bobbing slowly at one of the many piers. I approached slowly and called out, no sense in creeping on board and scaring the hell out of a sleeping man. Having received no answer I clambered aboard and proceeded to pick the lock, a skill that no PI should be without. Back in Paragon picking a lock was fraught with worries, a passing hero could notice and decide to spend 5 minutes teaching you the error of your ways. In the Rogue Islands breaking and entering is a curriculum lesson.
The lock clicked and the door to the main cabin and wheelhouse swung open. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, no signs of a struggle or any violence. I breathed a sigh of relief and began my to pick through the scene for anything that resembled a clue. The interior of the cabin was dark and cluttered, it contained pretty much everything that youd need as a fisherman but not a huge amount in the way of pointers to the owners whereabouts. I continued forward into the wheelhouse but again function and practicality seemed the order of the day. A scan of the room yielded nothing spectacular, radio, and radar equipment flanked the old style wheel. A photo of the girl from my office was pinned to the window frame. Some loose sheets of paper scattered on the map table caught my eye so I began to scan through them. Most were lists of fishing hauls and current prices however one sheet had a jumble of what looked like GPS co-ordinates on it. One of these numbers had been ringed several times, probably just the location of a good fishing spot but something didnt sit right about that. Like guilt at the back of a cheaters mind something kept trying to get my attention. I turned and scanned the room again slowly and then it hit me there was no GPS system here. I searched the wheelhouse and moved back into the main cabin. After an extensive search I found buried under some netting a locked box. In my experience a hidden locked box is a clue goldmine so I immediately set about opening it. After a few minutes of wrangling the padlock dropped open and I lifted the lid.
My first reaction on seeing the contents was to snap the padlock shut and walk away but as you may have guessed Im too nosey for my own good. Sat in front of me in the box were a high tech GPS system, a 9mm pistol and a codebook embossed with the symbol of Longbow. So the old guy was working for Longbow, suddenly the mystery of his disappearance was looking less like a mystery. I pocketed the codebook, jotted down the co-ordinates and headed for the door. Heavy footsteps on the deck outside caused me to stop in my tracks, I scooted to a porthole and peered out. Stood outside were 2 wolf spider enforcers, my mind raced and I instinctively reached for the .38 police special I keep in a shoulder holster just as the door swung open.
To be continued
