Millenium city stories - Frozen

I've been writing a lot more lately. Trying to get better disciplined about it and write everyday. So here is another post.

Millenium city stories is stuff from my own super hero world. It started as a setting for my tabletop RPG group and sorta developed from there.
Millenium city is darker than Superman's Metropolis but nicer than Batman's Gotham.
More akin to modern day L.A or the New York of Marvel Comics.


Here goes.

Frozen

I stand at my mirror again, it's been 10 minutes this time, I’m just staring at my reflection. What looks back does not feel like me, That perfect girl is gone. I’m numb. I either empty or angry. I don’t seem capable of any other emotions. Feels like I’m packed in layers of wool or something. Like I’m under water or buried in ice and I can’t find the surface.
I forego the extensive makeup and religious brushing of my hair that used to be part of my morning routine.I’m a pale imitation of what I once was.
It's useless. Stupid, why even bother. It doesn’t matter, it wont change how I feel.
I take a deep breath and push out of the bathroom.

…....

A minute later I’m frozen again. At the foot of my bed, staring at my costume.
I try to recall the feeling the brightly coloured outfit used to give me. Seems like so long ago, like a totally different life. Someone else’s. 
I thought I was a hero. It was all so exciting hanging out with powerful, even god-like people. I felt like a rockstar. It got real so fast and I didn’t even realise how serious it was before it was to late. I lost my dad and it is all my fault. 
I’m not fit to be a hero. I don’t deserve to be. I failed. Failed to protect those close to me.
I cannot bear to look at that childish stupid costume anymore. I grab it off my bed.

…….

I’m in front of garbage the disposal. I’m not trembling, I’m not scared. I’m not even angry. I am resigned to this. I have to let go of childish things like costumed heroes and secret identities.
A literal god told me to let go of the anger. To forgive but I can’t forgive something unforgivable. I can’t let go. If I do it is like I lose him all over again. I won’t forgive because I don’t want to forget. I’m alone in a kingdom of isolation. I can find my rage deep inside, a swirling storm.
I hold my costume out into the open garbage chute and I let it go.

Tears in Rain - a Summer Rain mystery chapter 3

A third short chapter for Summer Rain. It is going to be a long while before chapter 4. 

Tears in Rain Chapter 3 - Occupational hazards

The offices on the 3rd floor was almost empty and I waltzed straight past the receptionist like I belonged there and she didn’t bat an eye at me.
It was one of them open office floor design types, without those classic stuffy cubicles. The few partitions in the room was low walls covered with different green flora there was still a water cooler though. I guess some things in office life doesn’t change. The water receptacle known for its ability to make people wanna gossip was stuffed out of the way in a little nook next to what looked like a small kitchen. Besides the water cooler was a high-tech coffee dispenser with endless combinations of coffee, milks, foams and syrups with every flavour under the sun. I wonder what ever happened to coffee as tar black fuel where the only option was creamer or a lump of sugar.


I skulket through the office space looking for Clay Brand’s desk.
The few people left in Sterling Accounts were either in the process of leaving or staying for a long while working for that overtime check or that big promotion. They either didn’t notice me or simply didn’t care to.


All around the main office space was slightly nicer offices for the big shots that didn’t feel like slumming it in the main area with the common office folk.
The fancy offices was all frosted glass with glass doors to give the illusion of solidarity but they ended up looking more like some weird aquariums. Meant to hold some exotic predators, I guess that might not be that far from the truth if my experience was anything to go on.
I never really cared for office life, mom always said that I wasn’t cut out for it. I tried my hand at temp work to once, my career lasted for about 5 minutes. It definitely wasn’t for me. My told boss told me in no uncertain terms.


I passed a couple of coworkers on their way back to the elevators. They were giggling and whispering excitingly to each other. My detective ears couldn’t help but eavesdrop, I guess it’s a occupational hazard.
They were whispering sweet nothings to each other. But they were talking more of lust than love. One or both was definately cheating on a spouse. I’ve followed dozens of people like that in my professional life. That is most of detective work, seeing lust taint love and break marriages, turn best friends into the worst of enemies. Staring at the decrepitude of man, of men, sometimes seems to be all I do. And you know what they say when you stare into the abyss long enough it tends to look back at you.   
As the couple passed me I heard a delighted yelp,
I looked back and saw the man's possessive hand retreat from the innermost part of the giggling woman’s thigh. I saw his wedding ring. The young woman didn’t have one.
Damn, couldn’t anyone in this city have a nice innocent romance. I’d like to be proven wrong for once..
I can’t help but be cynical but it is hard to remain a romantic in this job.. I thought about Nora. I really hope that woman wasn’t just some disillusioned girlfriend chasing a man that wasn’t what she thought. Maybe this case was different. I thought about the young me and that mess of a girl’s love life.
About Ricky, my first and Rosie, the real one. And all the ones between then and now. So maybe it’s me that isn’t good at romance and I shouldn’t blame my career choices. 
My job though that I’m good at.

It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking. Clay Brandt had a nice corner office. Good for you mr. Brandt, good for you.

Frost mourned

Then:
The news were quick to call the tragedy a victory for justice. The villain had been apprehended by a trio of heroes only moments after throwing Alan Winthrop to his death from a rooftop.
The motives of the crime quickly forgotten by all but those the dead left behind.
Even heroes tend to forget their deeds.
But in this case one of the heroes was also a victim because death does not discriminate and the heroic life El wanted was not the dream she thought it would be.. 

Eliza was a superhero now she might be something else.


Now:
As Eliza Winthrop walks through the halls of her college campus she seems as a ghost, still alive but her old life as dead as her father.
El, was always one of the cool kids, the center of attention. Now she garners another kind of attention. Hushed whispers and stolen glances. Everyone talking about her, but not daring to speak to her. Treating her as some fragile doll. Afraid to say the wrong thing or anything at all. A few people try with a “I’m sorry for your loss” or “It will get better” and they get a monotone “thank you” in return. They shake their heads and walk away.
Some friends stuck around but most didn’t even bother. Eliza used to be carefree and giving to all around her. Throwing money and smiles around to be the center of affection.
Now she is a shell-shocked shadow of herself. Her emotions buried in ice.

She tries not to make eye contact as she walks down the dormitory’s hallway. El holds tight her little sister, she is in turn clutching a teddy bear.  El knocks on Evas door. Her college roomate and superhero partner.
El used to be the local trendsetter, the IT girl. That is gone too. Now you only see her in comfortable clothes and sneakers. Her eyes are puffy from lack of sleep and tears.
“hi, can we talk?” El says eyes downcast as the door opens.
“uhm. moving out dorm. Just came for my things, my laptop and..” she trails off.
“I think I’m taking a sabbatical next term… there is nothing for me here.”
El squeezes her sister a bit tighter. “Anna say hi to my friend Eva”
El ruffles her sister’s hair lovingly but with a quiet desperation in her blue eyes. As she moves part Anna and Eva to enter the dorm room.
Anna takes a step forward, struggling with the stuffed bear. Her arms can barely reach to Eva’s hips. Eva crouch to eye level with the fuzzy toy animal and scratches it behind an ear.
“I like your bear” Anna gives a small smile and Eva gives her a tight hug.in return and whispers “I’m so sorry” 

Eliza awkwardly shuffles on her feet. Her laptop safely back in her bag and a modest necklace with a silver heart locket wrapped around her hand. Her fingers traces the links in the necklace like prayer beads.
“I just kinda wanted to say thanks… I don’t blame you. I’m not mad anymore. I’m just……… I don’t know, empty I guess” she looks Eva in the eyes for the first time.“Thank you for being my friend”
She takes the hand of her sister and turns to leave. She stops in her tracks and extends a hand to Eva in it a blue metal badge..
“I should give you this” El says as she hands Eva her IForce badge. “I’m done; I can’t do this anymore, I’m not hero. Maybe I never was”There is an electronic hum as the badge begins to pulse, then it begins to beep.
El begins to walks away. “you should probably take that”
IForce, we have a situation. Dragonborn do you copy? I have a code Indigo

Tears in Rain - Chapter 2

 

2 - The Tiniest King

The man’s name was Clay Brand, a clean cut, working stiff. An accountant at Sterling Accounts. Boring as plain white toast as far as I could tell..
Nora said she would leave me a key to her and Clay’s apartment under the mat. So I could check out the place when she went to work. She worked late as a waitress in a club called, the Menagerie.
I was going to check out Sterling Accounts before it got too late.

As I walked up town, I could feel the change in air pressure that heralded the coming rains. It wasn’t that cold yet but I usually run cold anyway so I nestled further into my thick brown trench coat. It had been a gift from my dad, he gave it to me when he finally acknowledged that I was serious about the whole P.I thing. It was him finally letting go of the notion of the woman he wanted me to be.  He always wanted to control everything that gesture was him given up a bit of control. But I don’t accepted my choice of profession.
“You should atleasts look the part” Was all the acceptance he could muster. A small victory and one of the few happy memories I have of the man. He is proud and arrogant, A real piece of work, like me. we don’t talk much still but dammit if it isn’t a really nice coat.
I had stopped for a bite to eat on the way so it was later than I had hoped when I finally arrived at the office building where Sterling Accounts was located. But I still had at least an hour or two to scope out the place. The first people were already leaving for home, spilling out of the building in front of me.  Sterling Accounts was on the third floor, a restricted floor.

 I scarfed down the rest of the pretzel I bought with part of my upfront retainer. As I wiped off my sticky fingers in my coat I walked into the foyer of the building and straight into the ladies room. I took of my coat and stuffed it in my messenger bag I carried over my shoulder. I took out a generic grey cap and clipboard that I carried for situations just like this. I put my unwieldy curly shoulder length brown hair into a tight ponytail and pulled it through as I put on the cap. I was wearing my “profesional” nice IE expensive black jeans and a little too nice dress shirt. I opened a few buttons on the shirt to show the white tank-top underneath. I looked myself over in the mirror. Yeah that will work, you can do this. Alright Becca you’re up, I walked out and straight towards the bank of elevators just past the security desk.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going? You can’t use those!” came the yell from the desk. The man behind the desk was about my age. He lorded over the lobby he had his eyes possessively on his little kingdom. He was a rent-a-cop but not one of those donut munching mall cop. His brown beard well trimmed and well kept. Clearly meant to make him macho along with buzzcut. His uniform clinged to his muscled physique in a quite flattering way actually. He worked out and clearly took his job very seriously. He didn’t look like a vet or someone with formal training. More like someone who like the idea not the effort.
Someone had giving him a plastic badge and small modicum of power and he had promptly proceeded to get drunk on it. This was his building. I thoroughly dislike people like that.
I let out an exasperated sigh, really playing up my annoyance and spun around to face the jerk. “Relax buddy I’m just the delivery girl” I said as I approached the desk.
“deliveries and couriers are in the back, you’re not allowed in the lobby. This is classy place, and well you” Watch it buddy “you young lady you clash with the decor” I’m your age and damn right I clash with corporate class.
 “Just doing my job here could you just let me up? I have a delivery for Sterling Accounts.”
 I interrupted him before he could say anything else. He wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to assert his power on some silly delivery girl, but I couldn’t just leave I needed access to the upper floor. His silly plastic lanyards gave him complete control over me. I hate feeling powerless. I had the power here he just didn’t know it.
I gave him a wicked smile and I raised my voice slightly.
“If you help, I’ll be out of here in a blink I won’t have time to sully this classy atmosphere. 
Or we could make it a whole thing” I gestured around his precious lobby. And gave the lone cleaner a wave.
His face soured. “Please I, we, don’t do deliveries to this place. I have no way of getting in without your help and I can’t go back to me boss unsuccessful, again. I am completely in your hands.” Give them control, make them think it is their idea.
“Where was it you were going again”. Got’ya.
“Sterling Accounts, third floor” I looked at my empty clipboard. “A Clay Brand, his fiancé is the sender”
He harumphed at that. Not a romantic I guess. “He needs to sign for it” 
He buckled. He gave up an infinitesimal piece of his diminutive power.
“fine” he said “But you owe me. Sign in here and I’ll make you a guest pass. This once”
Thank you my liage how generous of you. “of course anything. And thanks, I’m Becca by the way.”
I signed with two obnoxiously curly big C’s.
“Great” he said tiredly. “now buzz off and be quick about it I want you out of here as soon as possible” he handed me the keys the office kingdom. A square plastic lanyard.
“Scouts Honor” I said as I took the access card.
as the elevator doors dinged open I looked back at desk and gave him a small salute.
What a small sad man. A tiny king stuck in his little kingdom of revolving doors and potted plants.

Summer Rain. I wrote a thing

I wrote a thing or I'm trying to write something.

So this is the first chapter of my Noir Detective story.

Tears in Rain, a Summer Rain mystery

1 - The Damsel

My name is Summer Rain and I’m a product of my environment. I am from Millennium City, the greatest city in the world, born and raised.

Millennium City has many names. The crime capital of the world, the powers capital of America, New Manhatten or home of Captain Tomorrow & Miss Century.

Most often called the city of heroes, but the name I like best, what the sons and daughters of Millennium City call our home is the City of Masks.

It is true we have heroes flying through the skyline, like so many brightly colored exotic birds. Most are just people, most of us live down on the street in the smoke and smell of urine and all the people in the sky are wearing masks anyway. No, we can’t all be heroes.



When you grow up in Millennium City, when you’re raised in the piss stains and smoke of it. Something happens to you, you grow up different. It is not that you grow to like the bad things, I mean piss still smells like piss.

But It becomes part of you. It’s been through a lot and survived. So you can too.

The city has been spoiled, abused, bent and broken, just like you will.

You learn that you have to live with the bad, like you have to live with yourself.

Nowadays I appreciate the city for what it is. Don’t get me wrong the smell still gets to me sometimes. Sometimes I feel like retching when I get the worst of it. But growing up with it, I know something others don’t, I understand that it’s in me too. And instead of retching I breathe it in deeper and it makes me stronger, some days it even makes me smile.

After the war I could not wait to get back state side and I had to move back to Millennium City,  a city of mighty heroes and broken dreams. My home...



The end of summer was approaching. The trees were slowly beginning to shed their leaves and the stifling heat was being replaced by cooler air. You could smell the change on the air.

My days were long and boring, I hadn’t had a job in a while. It was early September and I quietly getting desperate for something to do.

On another of those too long day's something finally happened.

On that particular day trouble walked through my door. That was not unusual, trouble is how I pay the bills. But her brand of trouble turned out to be very unusual,

I was sitting at the desk in my office, feet up, bored out of my mind and day drinking. I know that drinking to pass the time isn't conducive to healthy living, but I didn't have anything else to do and the bottle of smooth and expansive alcohol was a thank you gift from my last satisfied client. Actually, that had been my latest case, a long bit ago and my coffers were getting dangerously low. So, day drinking it was, don’t judge me. Most of my day was spent sprawled in my chair, listening to the crackle of the radio, trying to catch the bit of sun peeking through the blinds of my windows. I had almost emptied the bottle and was about to close-up when there was a shy knock on the door, I froze. Damn my place looked like shit, you would think I would be better at this business thing by now. The knock became more persistent.

“One moment please”

I quickly dumped the bottle in a drawer in the desk, the glass followed after I gulped down the rest of its content. I turned off the radio and sat down. I arranged my notebook and pencils on the desk and tried to look professional.

“Please come in” I said as I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear

That is when she walked in. My next paycheck and couldn't have asked for prettier package.

She was blonde as hell and wearing a lot of black. This girl could get any man she wanted or a woman. Get a hold of yourself Rain. I scanned her with my professional detective vision, so I told myself at least.

Her slightly curled blonde hair fell just past her shoulders, in that way that makes it seem natural but takes hours of maintaining each morning. She had clear and very blue eyes. Though she didn’t show much skin, her leather pants and clingy shirt showed of her curves. God, I wish I had a chest like that. Don’t stare, don’t stare. Looking professional had gone straight out the window. The booze had definitely been a bad move.

“My name Nora Bloom” She said clasping her hands at her belly, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re The Detective? mrs Rain then right?”

“It’s miss Rain and yes I’m the detective” I answered

“oh sorry, actually thought you were a man. I mean I thought detective Rain was a man”

she was getting flustered now. Crap, I couldn’t lose another client because of my gender.

She scanned the room. I couldn’t really read her but she was definitely nervous. Trying to make her more comfortable.

“But I try so hard to look pretty” I said in my best starlet voice, tossing my hair in a gesture of mock femininity. I got a tiny closed lipped smile in return. Good enough for me.

 I stood, walked out from around the desk and offered her my hand.

“I’m Summer Rain, private investigator. Missing jewelry, cheating husbands, insurance claims, I even rescued a kitten out of a tree once, think his name was Mittens or something. How can I be of service?”

She shook my hand and gave me another timid smile, with her close I could smell her perfume it gave off a faint scent of lilacs.

“You do missing persons?”

“yes of course. Only thing I don’t do is powers.”

not anymore, not ever again,

“Who is missing?” I grabbed my notepad and a pencil from the desk. My professionalism gear finally kicked in.

“My boyfriend.” She was fidgeting with her perfect nails “Uhm my fiancé actually. we just got engaged” she showed me her engagement ring, modest but gold. “see”

“okay how long has he been missing?”

I couldn’t help but think that this was just another case of an adulterating husband escaping with his mistress or just some man who was too damn chickenshit to actually break it off in person. Poor girl.

Behind her thin facade was just an innocent and scared young woman. God, I felt old, I couldn’t even remember when I was that naive. This city will eat up and spit out people like that. I see it all the time.

“He’s been gone since yesterday. he left for work in the morning and I haven’t seen him since. I work late but when I came home he wasn’t there… He’s always there when I come home, he makes sure of it.”

Tears began to spill from her eyes threatening to ruin her makeup. I put my hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry I’m on the case” I said giving her a small smile. “did you contact the authorities?”

“uhm, the police won’t do anything before he’s been gone for 48 hours”

She was staring at me with those blue dewy-eyes. So blue those eyes and innocent, but in that moment, they were filled with a pleading desperation.

“so, you are really going to help me?” She asked.

“of course,” why not.

Her fiancé was missing and she was desperate so I took the case why not be the hero I’ve always had a soft spot for a damsel in distress. To be honest I was kind of curious. What kind of man could make a girl like that, settle down? and besides I didn’t really have a choice, I had to pay the bills. a girl gotta eat you know.

“One more question, where did you hear about me?”

“well you’re in phonebook, miss Rain.”