Noir Investigator Rarity by PrippsBlue


                                            >”Ere’s yer stop miss.”

                                            >A dingy, dark and foreboding alleyway, a faint glow of neon signs at the end.

                                            “Thank you. Keep the change.”

                                            >You hand him an extra 50 for the trouble.

                                            >”Woah! With pleasure! Y’stay safe now!” the cab driver gleefully holler after you, before speeding off.

                                            >The rain had been pouring down all day, never relenting to keep your coat soaked. Reason enough to walk briskly towards your destination.

                                            >Your name is Rarity.

                                            >P.I. of Shadow Spade Investigative Services.

                                            >Recently, a distraught mother had come to your office seeking help finding her missing son Button.

                                            >Police had as per usual, not been helpful.

                                            >The mother thought the troubled teen had gotten in with a bad crowd and ran away, resorting to crime.

                                            >Well… she wasn’t far off.

                                            >The son had joined a small-time gang dealing with extortion, you had managed to find dig up with the little info you got.

                                            >Then came the big break.


                                            >The smallfry went too far and extorted the wrong guy, in the wrong neighbourhood.

                                            >One “Icepick” Jones, the head of a smaller crime ring.

                                            >With a little more digging you got the name of Icepick’s and Co. favorite place to slake their thirst.

                                            >Golden Moose.

                                            >The neon sign depicted the outlined head of a moose in yellow, a pink bra hanging in its antlers.

                                            “...quaint.”

                                            >Inside, the decor was surprisingly classy and sophisticated. Furniture of oak went quite well with green wallpapers. It even had a stage with a female pianist currently playing a slow, unfamiliar tune.

                                            >It was quite nice.

                                            >Then you saw a girl clad in… well, barely anything twirl like a propeller on a pole in front of two gruff-looking gentlemen.

                                            >Luckily, the big bar desk is soon in sight and you head for that. The clinging of glass and movement behind the desk indicated a bartender was available.

                                            >Time to turn on the charm. Better open up the blouse a little bit too.

                                            “Evening. Can I have a September manhattan?”

                                            >Oh sure! Just one sec lemme-”

                                            >The bartender stands, then gives you a rather shocked expression.

                                            >Wait… that’s…

                                            “...Anonymous”

                                            >”Auntie! Oh shit! Oh man, hold on, I’m comin’ around!”

                                            >You nephew scurries out through a half-door in the bar, heading straight at you with open arms. Before you can even react he grabs you in a bearhug, squeezing down hard.

                                            >”Holy shit its so good to see you! It’s been like what, four years?”

                                            “Nnngh-nnyes....”

                                            >He certainly had gotten stronger.


                                            >”Oops. Too tight?” he chortle, finally letting you go. “Sorry. It’s just-wow! It’s great to see you again!”

                                            “I feel the same darling. But I thought you left for the university. Lawyer, wasn’t it?”

                                            >Anonymous cringes and shrugs.

                                            >”Found out I’m not much of a booksmarts. Got burned out first semester sooo… I left before I embarrassed myself any further.”

                                            “I see. So… how did you find your new calling?”

                                            >”Heh, spent my last penny here, drinking actually. Owner’s was vet, saw me down in the dirt and offered me a job. He passed last year though, nazi sniper finally reached his target and he wanted me to keep an eye on the Moose and the girls.”

                                            “He gave you his bar? You certainly made an impression.”

                                            >”Tch, yeah. He was like a second dad to me,” Anon mutters with a clang of sadness.

                                            “Hmm. Does Sweetie Bell approve?”

                                            >”Dunno. Haven’t gotten a letter since her Europe tour. Think she’s singing in Russia now. You’ve talked to her recently?”

                                            “I… have not. Too busy working.”

                                            >”Heh, that sounds familiar. Oh! Work! You wanted a November Manhattan! Commin’ right up!” Your nephew clapped his hands together and made his way back behind the bar. “For you though, it’s on the house. And just for you…”

                                            >He leans in close, wiggling his eyebrows.

                                            >”...I’ll crack open the nice bourbon.”

                                            “That’s… very nice of you darling.”

                                            >”So, speaking of work. You here on a case?” Anon shoots you an inquisitive glance while preparing your drink.

                                            “I am. Young boy gone missing. Button sounds familiar to you?”

                                            >”Not really,” he replies, diving behind the bar momentarily. “Gonna need bit more than that.”

                                            “He ran into some trouble with Icepick apparently. Does that sound more familiar?”

                                            >Anon peeps up at you with a concerned glance.

                                            >”It does. I wouldn’t bother looking for the kid.”

                                            “And why’s that darling?”


                                            >”Because Icepick’s ruthless. He made it clear to me, and I’m making it clear to you; He don’t want other fingers in his pie.” Anon whispers and pushing your drink close. “Have this, and go home. Please auntie.”

                                            >Gingerly you take the glass, rolling the liquid before taking one sip.

                                            “I appreciate the concern darling. But I don’t give up on any case, period. This case is just more than a missing boy. It’s an opening to organized crime, and I’ll gladly put myself in harms way to put such scum behind bars.”

                                            >You take another sip, savouring the very last of droplet.

                                            “I’ll be careful, and I have enough contacts to make sure you’ll be safe too. Nothing will be tracked back to you.”

                                            >Anonymous rubs his neck nervously.

                                            >”I-I dunno auntie…”

                                            “Anonymous. I would never let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

                                            >You reach out to put your hand on his free one, offering him your warmest and sincere smile.

                                            >He smiles weakly back, still hesitant.

                                            >”...promise to play it safe.”

                                            “I promise. As God is my witness.”

                                            >Anonymous bites his lip, contemplating something before leaning inn over the bar.

                                            >”I’m holding some stuff for him. His boys will pick it up tonight and deliver it straight to his place. I dunno where it is.”

                                            “Thank you darling. I appreciate it.”

                                            >”It’ll be after closing hours. Here, take this,” he reaches for a key in his pocket. “It’s to my office upstairs. Wait there and stay out of sight in the meantime. Okay?”


                                            “I will. Again, thank you very much.”

                                            >You give him a smooch on the cheek before getting off the stool and begin heading to his office. You take one more peek over the shoulder, seeing your nephew rubbing the spot with a humongous grin plastered across his face.

                                            >As… incriminating and situationally horrific this was, it was good to see your nephew again. He may be dealing with shady people but dammit, he’s still your sister’s son.

                                            >...after you’ve put these gangsters behind bars you’d start talking to him more often.

                                            >Four years…

                                            >A door stands before you at the top of the stairs. You take out the key, suddenly feeling it hard to get it through the keyhole.

                                            “...must’ve been the best of bourbons.”

                                            >You chuckle.

                                            >Finally you manage to open the door and can again be impressed how classy the decor was. More oak furniture, green walls and a rather impressive collection of firearms hanging up on display. This with many pictures of soldiers meant it likely belonged to the late owner.

                                            >Ah. There was even a multicolored window here, looking down at the bar below.

                                            >You stumble, suddenly feeling a bit fain.

                                            >What on earth has gotten into you?

                                            >Perhaps you should’ve eaten a steadier lunch…

                                            >In the corner of your eye you spot a couch. A big, inviting couch begging to be used.

                                            >Some shut-eye could probably do some good.

                                            >Lazily you throw off your trench coat, hat and kick off the shoes and spread out on the couch.

                                            >Within the minute you’ve fallen asleep.


                                            >When you come to, your head is spinning. And you feel like there’s something in your mouth.

                                            >There is.

                                            >You can’t move your arms or legs. They feel… restrained.

                                            >They have been tied.

                                            >Panic starts churning in your gut as you grow more aware of your situation. You’ve been tied up and gagged!

                                            >Struggling against the bounds is futile. They’re too tightly secured and the gag is held in place by a string around your head.

                                            >A quick scan around still tells you are in Anon’s office, on his couch.

                                            >Anonymous!

                                            >You try to make yourself as loud as you can, hoping Anonymous was still here to help you.

                                            >Or was he in trouble?

                                            >Because of you?

                                            >You thoughts are interrupted when the sound of a door unlocking and opens. There stand Anonymous in trenchcoat and hat. When he spots you he beams.

                                            >”Hey. Did you have a nice nap?”

                                            >You voice your confusion with a muffled moan, eliciting a laugh from your nephew.

                                            >”Yeah they’ll kick like a wild mustang. Rogers used them to dull the pain from his injury, only thing that helped him.”

                                            >He walked over to you, still smiling.

                                            >”I’m terribly sorry about this auntie, but it’s for your own good. I really meant what I said about Icepick. He means business. That kid, Button? He’s buried in ten different locations! For elbowing in on Icepick’s turf.”

                                            >You swallow in disgust. Poor boy…


                                            >”And you? He don’t take kindly on any, not even pretty ladies like you snooping around. I don’t even wanna think about it…”

                                            >He sits down by your feet, placing his hand on your leg and starts stroking it.

                                            >”He’d kill you auntie. He wouldn’t give a crap. What a waste…”

                                            >He strokes further up, suddenly going for inside of your thigh!

                                            >”But I’d never do that to you. You’re family. I would never let them hurt you in any way.”

                                            >You squirm under his touch, feeling shame when a tingle of enjoyment crawls up your spine.

                                            >”So we’re gonna go unorthodox to keep you safe. It’s gonna… uh… well, I dunno.”

                                            >Thankfully he removes his hand, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek before heading to his desk. There he takes out a bottle and pours the content on a rag.

                                            >”So we’re gonna go for a ride… but I can’t have you be awake for it. Precautions and such, y’know?”

                                            >When he approached with the rag you try to scoot away, but he’s too quick to just grab you again, pushing it right in your face. Chemicals fill your senses, making it harder to focus.

                                            >”That’s it, just breeeathe it in auntie.”

                                            >The room spins again and the last thing you see before blacking out is Anonymous, your dearest nephew smiling grimly over you.


                                            >You are Anonymous.

                                            >Currently waiting in a clearing outside of town in your van, waiting.

                                            >Ugh.

                                            >He’s late.

                                            >You toss your ciggarette and open up the back of the van.

                                            >Auntie is still out cold, laid comfortable on a mattress.

                                            >You grin and scoot up to her, taking in her form.

                                            >For a lady in her late 40s, Rarity looked fucking fantastic. Legs for days, hips meant for mothers and curves of pinup girls.

                                            >And a face to die for. Eyes like diamonds…

                                            >Too bad they’re closed now.

                                            >You caress her face, running a hand through her fabulous hair.

                                            >Gonna have to dye it later. Shame really, purple suits her.

                                            >You glance downwards, to her blouse.

                                            “Let’s have a looksie here too, shall we?~”

                                            >You unbutton it open, rewarding you with a better view of your aunt’s breasts. You slide a hand underneath her bra and gives a gentle squeeze.

                                            >Feels fucking amazing. No sag here. Auntie’s aging with grace.

                                            >The sound of a car coming snaps you back, and you hurriedly button her blouse closed. Composing yourself you get out of the back and slam the door closed.

                                            >It’s him.


                                            >An ambulance rolls up behind your truck. Out steps a thin, decrepit old man.

                                            >”Herr Anon, ja?”

                                            “Yup. You Otto?”

                                            >”Ja! Good to finally see face to face. You have patient with you?”

                                            >You nod, opening up the van for him. The german scurries over, nodding and mumbling in his native language.

                                            >”My, my! What a lovely fräulein! Ah, not-cooperative fiance perhaps?”

                                            “Who she is is none of your business. And it’s what I want her to forget.”

                                            >”Very well. To my ambulance, bitte.”

                                            >You hoist Rarity up in your arms, cradling her carefully.

                                            “You didn’t mention… but this shit doesn’t involve torture… right?”

                                            >”Ach! Nien! Force does not work. Tried many time on yankees in France, never got good results. Very bad methods!”

                                            “That’s… not comforting…”

                                            >You stop, consider just getting in your truck and leave the nazi madman.

                                            >”Relax! Develop safe method! One injection, and much verbal drilling. Like school, actually!”

                                            >You scoff, but accepts his claim. You really didn’t have much else you could do to keep your aunt safe from Icepick. Carefully you place her in the ambulance.

                                            >”So!” Otto pulls out a noteblock and pen, eagerly glaring at you. “What would you like to make her remember? Spare no details, more the better!”

                                            >You look at Rarity, thinking carefully.

                                            “Her name’s Sapphire. Born and raised in Manhattan, moved out early with dreams of being an actress. Made it small time by singing in bars and clubs. Recently met me, got offered a job at my establishment as server and entertainer.”

                                            >”Mhm,mhm. No contact with parents?”

                                            “No. They passed away long ago.”

                                            >”Mmm. And how would you place your relation with her?”

                                            >You feel a grin crawl up your face as you trail those long, hosed legs.

                                            “Intimate.”

                                            >”Is all? Good good. Then we should be off, no time like present.”

                                            “Hey. How long will this take?”

                                            >”Depend on her will. Most, three weeks. If strong…. five at most.”


                                            >Three to five weeks…

                                            >You lean in close to your aunt, giving her a kiss on her cheek.

                                            “I’ll see you soon auntie. I love you.”

                                            >”Ja ja, see soon, auf wiedersehen and all that herr Anon!”

                                            >The german drives off like a damned maniac, his ambulance vanishing into the night.

                                            >You sigh deeply, lighting one last cigarette before you decide to get back to the bar.