It has recently come to my attention that I know very little about the world. I say this not because of the state of our education, limited as it is, but instead because of what it's hidden. Or not known about. What I mean to say is that no one will ever tell you that something isn't right. No one will ever tell you that there are things that are best either left alone, or things that we should completely remain ignorant about.
So what is it that these things come to my door, to my desk, and make themselves known? Why is it that simpletons can't understand that the lay of the land or perhaps that strange googly writing on that cave wall needs to be explored? Why is it that I get everything that can't be explained and I'm expected to know these things?
I'm starting to realize why I drink. Dear gods and Angels above, I've probably already realized this several times. My guess is the booze keeps me from remembering it.
But, that's neither here or now. Here, I'm sitting in front of the same three case files. Now, well... It's about ten o'clock by my count. Clock could be wrong. I'll have to get Dhukka to take care of it. Where is that boy?
“Dhukka?! Where are you hiding?”
It's hard to imagine that the boy can hide in such a small office. Some paranoid part of me thinks he's found a way into the walls, and is watching me with a pistol to my back. I wouldn't blame him. I'd be a little nervous if I had a twitchy, drunken, quick-tempered guardian teaching you everything about the strangest, vilest, and most mysterious of things that lurk in the night.
Or maybe I'm being melodramatic.
God, I hoped so. This job gets to you after a while.
The boy appeared after a minute or so, holding a plate with what appeared to be a sandwich of some sort. He was dressed in his usual attire – a tee under a set of long legged overalls, stained to the point where washing the things was more a matter of keeping what liquids and solids hit them off enough to stay comfortable. He had a tool belt on, with the works in sets of ratchets, wrenches and a hefty looking hammer. I straightened a little as he walked in, golden hair shaken from his eyes (Though he did have hair that long – old habit, I always guessed) as he placed the plate on top of the three folders of my desk.
“Mornin' boss. Grilled cheese with some bacon thrown in for taste. It's a little burnt, but you know how that stove acts up sometimes.”
My stomach growled. I hadn't had anything to eat yet this morning – and it was morning, judging from the blaze of light that brightened the room the instant Dhukka pulled at one of the window screens – and the thought of something like breakfast helped to give my stomach a reason not to complain. I muttered my thanks to the boy, who had since disappeared – Did I mention that yet? I probably should try to explain it at some point – and moved the plate aside. I chewed the burnt thing for a time, merely enjoying the presence of food in my stomach for a time before taking a quick judge of my person. I probably could use a shower, some fresh clothes, and a night's sleep that wasn't brought on by that cheap whiskey the Commandant occasionally brings to my door. Good man that he is, Serje's seen enough of what I handle to provide me with an outlet that does not involve loading the shotgun I have stowed in my car and going for a joy ride through town with Dhukka.
Not that the boy probably wouldn't clean my clock if such a thing were to happen. I was, after all, his state appointed guardian. And if I was in jail, he would have to go back to the orphanage until a suitable job apprenticeship opened up.
Dhukka hated the orphanage.
I placed a hand to my head, trying to get my thoughts together as I took a last look at the cases in front of me. If there's one thing I hate, it's the fact that I am usually forced to work two or three at a time, and usually within the span of only a week or so. The state funds only so much, gives me a place to headquarter myself and supplies that range from 'Absolutely Useless' to 'It may or may not work, we don't know.' I enjoy the latter, seeing as Dhukka usually does something to make them work pretty well.
I looked at the wall, eying the 'Stun Baton' that the Commandant handed to us when confronting the Sewer Creature last year. Wouldn't you know it – the damn thing had battery problems. I should count myself lucky that Dhukka rigged it to not only hold a charge, but to actually 'throw' the lightning at a target to disable it. I very much like keeping my hide in tact, and the thought of having to shove a set of metal rods into a creature's mouth while it chews on my arm is one that fills me with nightmares.
I've done something similar several times now, but each seems to be more unpleasant than the last. But all thoughts aside...
I shuffled through the papers, pulling out the oddities as they were identified. I was fortunate this week to only have three cases, and two of them were considered 'Persistent and constantly updating', which meant I could only gather what I could from whatever was left at the scene. Those two were quite puzzling. The first was – at least, in my mind – some sort of government cover up. It is the only way to account for it's disappearances and reappearances, with a pin stripe suit that seemed to stretch it's already extremely long body higher above the rest of our heads, and the lack of any general features that would identify it as a person and not what people called it. Oh, and it 'ate' children. I try not to dwell too much on that last part, for I fear it is the only thing that seemed to give Dhukka a fright when I went over the initial file with him. That boy is fearless, but something about this one was just off.
The second was the constant influx of ruins, glyphs, pieces of technology that weren't ours (And by god, the weaponry some of these farmers found was astounding. Useful, but I doubt I'll get my hands on anything similar for a while), beasties in the woods, local myth's come to life, strange human phenomena, unexplained things and the general clusterfuck of “My bathroom is making an odd noise, and the plumber can't find anything. Therefore, it is haunted.”
I really hate the latter. Especially when such calls open up a veritable can of worms and it's revealed that the problem was actually fit for my department. My department, of course, being me, Dhukka, the occasional help from the Commandant with a few officers, and whatever weaponry we can scrounge up.
The last was a new file. The date was struck across diagonally, with the stamp that read “Urgent” underneath of it. I finished the last of my sandwich, and as filling as it was, I was still somewhat hungry. I turned my head up to call for Dhukka, only to find the boy placing another plate, this one containing some eggs, a few burnt pieces of toast with a pomegranate jam we got from an old lady across the street, and a small glass of juice. He likewise turned his hand, and dropped two small pills, which hissed and fizzed as they hit the liquid.
“You should really sit for five minutes after you drink the juice. Otherwise, you won't keep the rest down.”
I smirked, took the glass and downed it, handing it to him with a nod of thanks. “What're you working on, anyway? That old Single again?”
The boy nodded, his placid face betraying nothing as he turned to the bathroom to fill the glass in the sink. “The engine's not as shot up as I thought it would be. Maybe we can start using it soon.”
“Thought you said the hovering parts were bad,” I said, flipping the file on my desk open and taking up the fork to attack the eggs.
“Nah,” he continued, returning to set the glass on a coaster, “I said they were okay, but not great. They work, though. And we can get the replaced the next time we're at the airfield. You just have to distract the Commissar on duty, that's all.”
I looked up at him again, swallowing the eggs and quickly saying, “Stealing's wrong, Dhukka. You'll get your arm chopped off.”
The boy shrugged, and shot an accusatory finger in my direction. “'Stealin's wrong unless you need it in a bad situation, then it becomes borrowin' until you have to give it back, or it explodes.' Your words.”
I sighed, shook my head, and waved at him to cease the argument. Smart kid, that Dhukka. As I devoured everything but the utensil, blate, and glass, I read over the file while Dhukka did... whatever he normally did out of my sight. I try not to dwell on it too much, as I believe I stated before. As my stomach filled, I learned the details of the case were out in the country – Hinterlanders, of course – and that it involved not one, but to strange, yet similar reports. The first was of what the locals were calling a 'Vargenstern'. Storm wolf, or something like that. Supposedly, the thing had killed six people and was now hiding around some town south of my department. I would have simply dismissed this as another government experiment gone wrong, save for the next bit of information.
One of the locals said he heard voices near a place supposedly infested by this Vargenstern. And they were strange, tinny, and somewhat odd in their tones. One of the braver ones had ventured forth, and somehow had managed to bring back some sort of necklace with a small gem on it. Upon donning the thing, he simply stared forward, had his eyes go wide in shock and “Go Nanners”. The report said something about babbling and begging for mercy, but they eventually had to put a bullet in his skull. None of the locals would touch him after that, and the body had not been moved at all.
Hinterlanders. Stupid, senseless pieces of junk-headed technophobic-
“So where are we going?”
I took a breath as I looked up at Dhukka, who had yet again appeared out of nowhere to collect my plate and glass. His face was as calm and steady as ever, though I did see his eyes dart to the open file. I wrestled with the thought of telling him to take this one off, but hell, with some Storm Wolf – which, according to my luck, probably shot lightning out of it's ass or something – and then a necklace that was now laying on a corpse, I would probably need some help. Besides. Best prepare the kid while the trinkets weren't world destroying.
Or universe destroying, if such a thing existed. Some sick part of me knew that it probably did.
“Hinterlands to the south of here. We got a dog that shits lightning and a necklace that causes devil speech.” I closed the file, rose, and plucked at the first few buttons of my shirt, opening up the neck enough to allow myself to air some. I really did need a shower. “Go get the truck set up. Put the shotguns in with the brick of the solid stuff. Spread too, but let's not go nuts. Go get cleaned up, too.”
Dhukka nodded, a grin appearing on his face as he walked out of the front of my office. I walked out from behind my desk, turning into the bathroom with the tiny shower stall. Skinny bastard though I was, that thing needed to be widened enough so an actual person could fit into it. I'd thought about moving into a place where I didn't use the main room for my office, the kitchen for everything and everything food related, and then a small closet space for my sleeping and cleaning quarters. Then again, this place is cozy.
And it had lead in the walls. That was always a plus.
I cleaned myself, and the ablution was enough to finish knocking me into consciousness. Soaped my hair, body, and covered things that I'm quite sure I'd rather not think about so openly, and rinsed once more. A shave, a quick trip to the head, clean teeth, smelling spices and I'd already found a slightly stronger sense of humanity in my breast. Perhaps it was the preening and picking free of clutter about my person that lead me to believe that I might actually find nothing more than another experiment gone awry, or perhaps some one who was merely playing a joke. For once, I wanted to believe that I would be able to get back with only a deduction of cash for fuel, perhaps one for a meal for me and the boy, and no restocking of any shells or-
“So when are we getting back to the Slender Slick?” Dhukka was standing politely outside the door, turned away, with a bundle of my clothes under his arms. I winced unnecessarily – Dhukka's uncanny ability to keep him safe also seemed to rub up on me, but then again, I was never sure if it protected my clothing. It did, but only in the mundane sense. Lords and Angels knew how many ties and shirts and belts and pants I'd gone through that weren't ripped to bloody tatters or quite nearly obliterated to any extent.
While oil stains were the least of my worries, it did not hurt to keep the things clean.
“Let the bastard rot for a while. Besides, we've not gotten a report in weeks. I'm starting to think he's gone into hiding, or that he's just dead.” I finished with the head, nicked my clothing from him, and then got dressed. I try not to bore myself with the details of getting dressed; I did once meet a mind reader, after all, and the fact he had told me that 'everything I had ever thought was recorded for him to see'. The thought had unnerved me enough to try and promptly forget any sort of intimacy I'd ever shared, along with whatever positive emotions I could hold. Oh, they were still there. I just did not dwell on them. It was hard to, with what I had seen. I stuck my head out of the bathroom to note that Dhukka had slipped behind the desk and was peering intently at the other two files.
I walked over, leaning down next to him while I reached for the glass of water. He'd refilled it, and I thought to thank him when he spoke. “Do you think the Storm Wolf and the Necklace are related?” I paused, shrugged, and took another sip. I hadn't the slightest idea if they were connected or not, but I was curious about my young charge's line of thought. “What do you see to connect them,” I said, licking my lips to spread some water across them? It would be dry today, I thought. Dhukka pointed at the two village names, and then wandered over to the map of Viridack that hung on the side wall.
A cris-cross of lines, pictures, and strings hung about the continent's rim, and push pins were used to anchor the lines here or there. Typical of any sort of precinct or police map, though ours was nation wide. The idea to yet again curse our government for the ignorance of my position was thwarted by Dhukka tapping the map near the middle, then moving his finger literally an inch to the left. “Doesn't look that far... Artifact? I've never seen an animalistic one, but hey,” he said, turning back with a shurg and a shake of his head, “why not?” I frowned, looked back at the two files, and cracked my neck. “Storm Wolf's a day or so older,” I muttered, tapping the date. “So maybe. I'm not entirely convinced yet, but we'll see.” I tried to sound optimistic – it's really hard, mind you – and rolled my neck in a half shrug, half stretch. “Let's go to the first village before we make any ideas stick, eh? Which one's closer to Barstinl?”
Dhukka turned to the map once more, staring... and then turned back, thumb over his shoulder. “Look's like Ragridonn. New Tuluhlo's probably an hour from there.” I smirked, and rubbed two fingers over my forehead. “And how long from here?”
“Two to three days, give or take. I'm probably going to be driving a lot.”
“Pah. You love to drive, Dhukka.” The boy beamed at me, and I found myself seeing a genuine smile. A rarity for the boy to smile like that. Not that I did not admire and very nearly rely on his rigid resolve and rock solid emotions. Or lack of emotions. Words escape me at that point, since it's hard to tell which it is. Anyway, I sighed, nodding, and stood, closing the two case files and passing them to Dhukka. “You know the drill. Copy each with the replicator, put the redo's in the car for notes. Throw an extra pad and some pencils in. I'm going to phone in that we're out on case work for a while.” The boy nodded, snatched the two files from my hand, and was out the door before I could get another word in. I yelled after him, “Make sure you get that doubled in case something happens!” Paranoia directed me to say that – I cannot say how many files we've very nearly lost because of... claws. Or Acid. Or... unpleasant things. Thankfully, Dhukka was the sort to know what we needed. Eerily so, in most cases.
I smirked, went back into the chair, and leaned back, knocking the Slender Slick case closed with one finger. I did not wish to dwell on it. The images of the strange things surrounding his appearances were more than unsettling. They were just down right wrong. Limbs recorded popping out of walls and ceilings, half 'eaten' torso with the heads perfectly intact but with the biggest smile you've ever seen, missing children whose clothing or shoes we found bloodied and battered the following day in some random alley...
That last one always made me sick to my stomach. I banished the thoughts by leaning forward to the line that would connect me to the Commandant.

wat?

>>329696
What did you use to generate the map?