PI with Malice Aforethought: Tucson Edition

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Something tells me that might be a foreshadowing of the weird at Club Congress.

If she takes out the creepers, I'm all for it. 

1.  Optimist.   

2.  There are no creepers at CC.  It's all-ages.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Something tells me that might be a foreshadowing of the weird at Club Congress.

If she takes out the creepers, I'm all for it. 

1.  Optimist.   

2.  There are no creepers at CC.  It's all-ages.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Is that the underpass that fills with water when it rains?

Everybody's fucked.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Is that the underpass that fills with water when it rains?

Everybody's fucked.

One of the two.

4th Avenue and Stone street both flood completely, right up to the structure of the railroad above.

[Nurse Enabler]

This is awsome. Totally loving this story.

[Sister_Gothique]

[Eater of Clowns]

Really enjoying this, Roger.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Part 3

The viaduct is really only about as wide as a two lane road, perhaps 30 seconds to walk under.  15 seconds in, though, Jimmy began to freak out. 

"How long IS this fucking tunnel?"

"Um, about 150 feet."

"But we've been walking for 15 minutes."

"No, we haven't.  Jimmy, calm yourself.  You know how this place can be."

A moment later, we stepped out of the tunnel...Into the neon glare and sodium light brilliance of the Legal District.  To our left was a Chapel to the Black Madonna.  Heather and Jenn pointed at it.

"We need some churchifying!", Jenn said.

"Yes.  We need sanctification!", Heather responded.  Missy just skated in wide circles.

What could we do?  We went to church.  It was an average church, and old store front repurposed as a shrine.  Next to the bundle of wires and glass that was the icon/altar stood the ubiquitous scowling old man in full regalia, glaring at us with hooded eyes.

"Sup, Padre!", Missy hollered, "We need your services, for we are HEROES!"

"Damn straight", I added, "We are in fact heroes and we come to the district seeking sin."

"So we need to be shriven and blessed first", Heather finished.

The old man just grunted, still scowling, and thumped the side of the icon.  It sprang to life, glowing a dark blue, it's halo sputtering on and off, as it delivered the benediction in a crackling, disjointed voice:

You became as lambs, and were thus shorn.
You beat your swords into plowshares, and were thus enslaved by those who still had swords.
So, come, beat your plowshares into hooks, and I shall make thee fishers of men.

It then made a popping and hissing noise, and went silent (though the halo still sputtered).  We figured that was enough of a blessing for a night out carousing, though, so we left...The old man still scowling at us.

The short service seemed to have allowed Jimmy to get his feet back under him, so we headed down Congress Street toward the club.  We passed an alleyway, and I saw a familiar looking man with Russian features, talking to three working girls.  We nodded at each other, though I didn't remember exactly who he was.

Jimmy asked me something.  I didn't catch it, because I was looking at the Russian guy, so I asked him to repeat it.

"When you were in the army, did you ever know a Sergeant Major Morse?"

"Um, I was never in the army, Jimmy."

"Yes you were."

"No, I thought about it, but my great uncles talked me out of it.  So I went to school and took a PhD in physics.  Tribology, specifically.  The study of friction.  Not very sexy, but it pays the bills."

"Bullshit.  Let me see your stomach."

I pulled my shirt up, and he looked at my stomach.  "Where'd your fucking scar go?"

"What scar?"

"Yesterday, you had a shrapnel scar on your gut."

I looked at him, and pointed back to the bridge.  "That was out there.  Maybe I was a vet with scars out there.  Maybe you were from somewhere out East.  North Carolina, maybe.  But we're in here now, and none of that matters.  You know this."

Heather spoke up, "Hey, guys?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up.  We are now fishers of men.  haha."

I looked at the women.  Their pupils had shrunk to pin pricks.

"We're going to the club", Jenny said.

"We're going to drink many whiskey", Missy added, "Or we can't be held accountable.  We are fishers of men, and you are men."

What the hell could we do?  We walked down the block, toward the club.

to be continued

[LMNO]

Oh, man.  I am ]loving this.  I got a brief sense of what was happening when you went under the bridge, but the reveal was perfect.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Oh, man.  I am ]loving this.  I got a brief sense of what was happening when you went under the bridge, but the reveal was perfect.

A little more today, I think.

[LMNO]

Loved the benediction, too.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Interlude

Agent Morris looked at the detective.  "What kind of drug-addled nonsense is this?  He needs to come to the point."

The detective looked at Morris.  "Shut up.  No matter why you're here, this is MY precinct and MY interrogation room, and we do things MY way.  And that means we get the WHOLE STORY.

"I can get the whole story out of him a lot quicker."

"Yes, I imagine you think you can.  Me, on the other hand, I want him to want to tell us."

Good cop, bad cop.  Heh.

"I think I need to go talk to the commissioner.  Get this jackass transferred over to me.  Then we'll watch him sing."

"You go right the fuck ahead.  And while you're doing THAT, I'll be getting answers.  If you want answers, you federal prick, you just sit your ass back down and shut the fuck up."

Agent Morris sat down with a scowl on his face.

"Now, sir, please continue your story."

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Loved the benediction, too.

Tucson isn't a very gentle deity.

[Eater of Clowns]

That third entry, wow.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

That third entry, wow.

It's all downhill from here.