Nail Clippers, Pages 13 & 14

Previously.

Soon enough we reach the point where the story went off the rails in my head. Until then, enjoy. 🙂

****

Jax carried several bags of fertilizer to the garden behind the porch; his rose plants needed some attention. Dropping the bags, two rabbits hopped off. If Jetta would let him, he would do something about those rabbits, but she insisted they he leave them alone. Every year, she started a garden and every year the rabbits ate most of it. Circle of life indeed. Jetta joined him carrying a tray of plants.

“Hey, my rabbits,” she cheerfully said, pointing at the white tails hoping around a corner.

“Yes, your rabbits,” Jax said sarcastically, “This year…”

“You will not do anything to my rabbits,” Jetta interrupted.

“What? No, this year I am going to get a blue rose.”

Every year he tried to grow a blue rose and while Jetta thought he would never be successful, she had to admit that some of the roses he did grow were pretty and the color in the yard was always pleasant.

Putting on her best, “of course you will look,” “This will be the year.”

“Don’t give me that look. This is the year,” he replied as he started unpacking the tray of plants.

“Want something to drink?”

“Please,” Jax replied, arranging the plants in neat rows.

In the kitchen, Jetta wiped off the counter before opening the refrigerator; reaching for two Cokes, the doorbell sounded, ding-dong, followed by a knock. Leaving the refrigerator door open, Jetta answered the front door; at the door was a short woman wearing a dark blue Package Express Nationwide International Services uniform. Her white name patch proudly announcing her name, Erin. She smiled at Jetta, and then frowned as an ambulance roared down the street. Jetta looked down the street after the ambulance and shrugged her shoulders.

“I have your package,” Erin said cheerfully, as she held up a box wrapped in brown paper, “Uh…”

The brown paper box buzzed and shook hard enough to cause Erin’s hands to shake. Jetta heard the loud buzzing and gave Erin a knowing smirk. Jetta took the vibrating box from Erin’s hands. Holding onto the box made her fingertips started to tingle. Erin pulled a handheld signature device from a hip holster and held it out to Jetta who set the box down. Vibrating on the ground the box started to move, Jetta put a foot on top of the box halting the box’s escape.

“It’s from my aunt,” Jetta said with another smirk as she signed on the line.

“Have a good day,” Erin said with a smile, raising an eyebrow towards the vibrating box under Jetta’s foot.

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 14

Previously.

On the job

Grinding her teeth, something her dentist advised her to stop, Puddles shot daggers at Chuck, head in his chest sleeping in the passenger seat.

SNORE

Ten. Ten snores in the past, glancing at the clock, five minutes, each one louder and longer than the last. Her left ear twitched. At this rate, his snores would blow this surveillance. Chuck slid deeper into the seat; another loud, long snore mirroring his descent filled the car and Puddles was positive the coffin love motel they were watching. Grabbing Chuck’s shoulder, Puddles shook him.

“What,” Chuck snapped looking around the car in a panic.

Puddles held a single claw tipped finger up to him, “Sshhhh.”

“Was I…”

Thrusting the finger in front of Chuck’s face, “Not another sound.”

Sitting up, straightening his clothes, Chuck looked around for a few minutes before asking, “Anything?”

Puddles rolled her eyes, “No, nothing since he went into Love Buy The Hour. Miss Sad Face’s husband went in with Tart of the Month an hour ago. Whiskers caught all of the action on vid.”

“Where is Whiskers?” Chuck asked, while looking out the window at the front of the motel.

“Watching the side exit. Now keep watch and no more snoring.”

Fifteen minutes of silence.

“How do you do this?” Chuck started, “I’m bored and sleepy,” he finished with a wide mouthed yawn.

Puddles stared at Chuck deciding how to respond, leaning towards flushing her irritation at him out on him when Whiskers’ face appeared on the windshield monitor, “They are leaving. I will follow the husband. You and Chuck follow his partner.”

“Will do,” Puddles responded closing the vid-window.

“There goes Whiskers,” Chuck pointed at Whisker’s hover leaving the parking lot.

Puddles nodded as she positioned the car a few car lengths behind Tart of the Month’s car entering traffic.

“Why are we following her?” Chuck asked as he snapped vid of her car.

“What?”

“We have her license number and we have her face. Why not use CIS to get all of her data and be done in five minutes?”

“What does her data prove to Miss Sad Face?”

“Who?”

“The client. Miss…” Puddles tried to remember her name for a second as she changed lanes, “whatever her name is.”

“She can know who her husband is sleeping with.”

“Data proves nothing. She will want proof. Vid of her husband and,” gesturing at Tart of the Week’s car, “her is proof she can see.”

“So we follow her where?” Chuck asked.

“Wherever she goes. I’m hoping she is headed home.”

“Me too.”

Quiet time

Silence.

Blessed silence.

Sitting in the dark, watching the side exit of the Love Buy The Hour coffin motel, Whiskers relished the peace and quiet. No Puddles. No Chuck. No noise of the city. Nothing, but silence. After a week of rushing around the city, interviews with clients, and the frustration of a case ending without resolution was draining.

Following people around Stroud, taking vid and holo of them entering and leaving places revolted Whiskers, normally. Cases like this gave him a dirty feeling, bottom feeding on the misery of others did not sit well with him. However, peace and quiet did and cases like this were all about peace and quiet.

Pairing Chuck with Puddles ensured Whiskers quiet time. Leaning forward, Whiskers swiped across the windshield flipping through case information. Mister Ethan Harowe mid-level wageslave at Wanlot, married six years, no outstanding debts or for that matter, anything else. Wrapping this case up, a matter of a few more hours of following and recording.

Incoming message light flashing caught Whiskers attention, only a few individuals knew the car’s private message address. Two taps on the windshield cleared the casefile, another tap brought up the message. Sender unknown, Whiskers sat back. A quick glance at the clock, enough time to start a trace. A few minutes later, trace started and Mister Howe exited Love Buy The Hour kissing Caroline Tarr deeply before heading to his car. Mister Howe drove past, oblivious to Whiskers. Swiping the windshield established connection with Puddles in their car.

“They are leaving. I will follow the husband. You and Chuck follow his partner,” Whiskers said, starting the car, following Mister Howe.

An hour of late night traffic later, Mister Howe never deviating from the most direct path to his blockhouse apartment, pulling into an adjacent parking spot, Whiskers watched Mister Howe enter the elevator. Sitting back, Whiskers pulled up the vid images from tonight’s work; plenty of clear images of Mister Howe and partner. Checking the trace, a dead end. Curiosity warred with security. Security won, filing the message away, Whiskers headed back to the office.

Nail Clippers, Pages 11 & 12

Previously.

****

“You can’t. I know you can’t,” Chaz said, voice cracking each time he said can’t.

“I will bet you twenty dollars I can,” Devon retorted, superiority dripping from each word.

Chaz turned away from the television, pointed at Devin with his mayonnaise-smeared controller, “Twenty dollars?”

“Yep,” Devin replied wearing a smug look.

Chaz turned back to the television, he whined, “Damnit, I died.

On screen, Chaz’s character lay dead among a pile of zombies. Tossing his controller onto a table, Chaz stood up and grabbed his ass. Finding only skin he looked embarrassed.

“Deal,” Chaz said while glancing around the room for his wallet, “You swallow that sausage whole and you get twenty.”

Devin, his superior smile plastered across his face, picked up the sausage.

“Wait a minute,” Chaz interrupted, “Swallowing the whole sausage is too easy for you.” Chaz finished with a smirk and waggling his junk in Devin’s direction.

“Fuck you,” Devin retorted. “What do you have in mind?”

****

Arms loaded with bags, back feeling their weight, Old Man Jenkins returned home. Barbossa, ignorant or non-caring of the load Jenkins carried wrapped herself around his legs as soon as the front door opened.

“Meow.”

“What have they done this time?” Jenkins asked.

A length entangled leg rub later Barbossa trotted off to the kitchen. Looking over her shoulder to see if Jenkins followed. Setting the heavy bags down by the door, Jenkins kicked off his shoes and followed. He hoped Barbossa was hungry and nothing more, but her tone said otherwise.

Standing in the kitchen doorway, Jenkins shouted, “What in the HELL!”

“Meow,” Barbossa concurred from a countertop.

“I think Devin needs a doctor,” Chaz said from the floor, his voice cracking on the words Devin and doctor.

Bent over the kitchen table, Devin looked in pain, number ten on the pain chart, his hands were white knuckled gripping the edges. A column of smoke drifted from Devin’s ass to the ceiling. His pale white ass red and shiny coated in something-Jenkins assumed mayonnaise. Chaz lay on the floor, his face blacked with soot and meat. Pieces of meat covered the wall behind Chaz.

 

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 13

Previously.

This conversation was the end of what I had hoped would have been a fast moving montage of conversations and such explaining what happened and setting up what would happen. That did not pan out as I planned. As each previous section expanded the original purpose of this scene dissolved. The update for this scene ties together what has happened and moves the action forward. Enjoy. 🙂

Catching Up

“How long have you listened to Acid Chamber?” Chuck asked around a mouthful of rice.

Ignoring the rice caught in his chin fur Whiskers replied, “Since their first hoverport single, ArNk’Hal”

Stunned, Chuck replied, “That’s a long time.”

“Their music is great to practice to, inspiring a whole set of movement,” Whiskers said.

Amused, Puddles took a long sip of tea. Setting the neon yellow teacup down, “Whiskers’ choice of music aside, where are we on the cases?”

“Nowhere,” Chuck said sarcastically.

“Shut up Chuck,” Puddles fired back. “Seriously, what do we have on the three clients?”

Setting his tablet on the garish neon colored table, “Chuck is gathering the data on the Harowes.”

“Should have it tonight,” Chuck interrupted.

Flipping a screen on the tablet, “Acid Chamber’s manager…a…here it is, Janus is sending us data on their concerts and crew.”

“And Doctor Marlowe?” Puddles asked.

Chuck looked down at the neon green bowl full of rice in front of him. Whiskers flipped to a new screen.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” Whiskers replied lazily stirring his bowl of noodles with a single neon-flashing chopstick.

“Some investigators we are,” Puddles said.

“We don’t have the right connections.”

“Shut up Chuck,” Puddles snapped.

Staring Puddles down, Chuck continued, “The right connections to find whoever pretended to be Doctor Marlowe. I sent you the data on the real Doctor Marlowe.” Holding up his paw to stop any interruptions, “I have feelers out for information on what Titan is doing with Black Myst or in Tumbledown. These things take time.”

Setting his chopstick down, “Unfortunately, Chuck is right. We do not have the right connections,” Whiskers interjected.

“Whatever,” Puddles mumbled around a mouthful of noodles. “At least we are clear of charges. We are, aren’t we?”

“We are. Officer Tanx will send us any information he gets as well,” Whiskers replied. “This case is not dead. Put on hold is all.”

“Hold?” Puddles interrupted. Shaking his head, Chuck continued eating.

Ignoring Puddles, Whiskers continued, “We have a two cases to work. I suggest we move on from this and get back to work.”

“I like that idea,” Chuck said.

“Shut up Chuck.”

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 12

Previously.

The wash and dry brush phase is almost over, two or three more sections. Since I started I have added around 10 pages of new text. Next up for existing work, letting it sit for a bit while I work on the new material. Bet you are happy for that. Until then, enjoy. 🙂

The Second Client of the Day

“What do you think of this one?” Puddles asked Whiskers.

“Looks like a frying pan to me,” he blandly replied.

“Single forged no need to worry if the handle will separate with a good hit,” Puddles went on, “And look at the weight.”

“What do the reviews say about its ability to survive an impact?” Whiskers sarcastically asked.

Puddles extended a single middle claw in Whiskers direction, “Ass. I’m ordering this.”

“Have you pulled the data on the Harowes yet?”

I sent a message to Chuck,” Puddles said to Whiskers, “asking him to get the data on the Harowes.”

“That will save us some time. Reviewing the information she gave us, this should be a night or two of work at most.”

“A quick case, nice.”

At the sound of the door chime, two vid-displays on their desk activated; two korogin males wearing matching black leather outfits waited. The bone facial plates concealed their expressions and through the vid made telling them apart difficult. One of them with both ears and neck pierced down to his collarbone, looked at the vid-camera and pressed the door chime. Another chime.

“Friends of yours?” Whiskers asked Puddles with a smirk.

Her left flattened before responding, “They look like gangers and I bet they don’t have any isstas.”

“Let us find out,” Whiskers replied, opening the door.

Walking in step into the office, their heavy boots made each step thud ominously. The pierced korogin pushed a chair over to Puddles side of the desk. The other korogin stood, glaring, behind the seated korogin.

“I want to hire you to watch me while I am in town,” the sitting korogin abruptly announced.

“To do what?” Whiskers asked.

“Keep an eye on me while I’m in the city,” he said a bit slower.

Whisker’s ears descended a bit, eyes narrowed, “You want us to watch you, why?”

Puddles began a staccato beat with one of her paws trying not to glare at either of the korogin. Silence from the black clad, heavily pierced korogin male sitting across the messy side of the desk and from his similarly black clad bodyguard glowering behind him. Whiskers looked at Puddles. Puddles shrugged before turning her attention back to the korogin.

“I’m trying to understand what you want from our agency,” she said. Paws on her side of the desk, one drumming a staccato beat, “We don’t do body guard work and you have…” gesturing with the non-staccato paw at the bodyguard.

The korogin in front of her looked over his shoulder, looked back and smiled or at least what Puddles took as a smile; the bone plates on korogin faces made reading any expression a gamble at best. A low rumble from both korogin, turned into belly clutching laughter. Whiskers ears wide apart and tail swishing, shrugged his confusion to Puddles. Puddles ears went flat, tail slashing her irritation with these two rising quickly.

“What am I missing?” she hissed at them.

“You don’t recognize us?” bodyguard asked around the last of his laughter.

“Should we,” Whiskers asked hesitantly.

The sitting korogin abruptly stopped laughing, “You don’t know who we are, for real?” Looking over his shoulder, he barked in korogin, “Tak-ga shinnat ur gagganoth.”

Bodyguard shook his head before speaking, “Does Acid Chamber sound familiar?”

“The quadstomp duo?” Whiskers replied ignoring the stunned look on Puddles face.

“That’s us,” the bodyguard said.

“We will take the job,” Whiskers said in a rush.

Nail Clippers, Pages 9 & 10

Previously.

“Oh my god,” Jetta moaned.

Jax continued thrusting his fingers into her pussy and licking her clit as her hips jerked and twitched. Orgasm contractions gripped his fingers tightly. He loved knowing he gave her pleasure.

“Enough. Enough,” she said scooting back from his fingers and tongue.

He stood up next to the bed as she sat up. Jetta leaned towards Jax, as he started to get onto the bed; planting a kiss on his lips, she tasted herself. Grabbing his hard cock, “This,” shaking his cock, “will have to wait until we get back from the hardware store.”

“But, babe.”

“We need to get going,” Jetta said sliding off the bed.

Two hours later and Jetta was ready to go back home and hide under the covers. Next time she promised herself, blow him before going to the hardware store; a solid hour of non-stop puns and jokes.

“Babe. Babe,” Jax shouted from the other end of the aisle, “look, I got HARD wood.”

She looked knowing what she would see…and, yes, he was holding up another plank of wood. Jetta shook her head in silent laughter. A quick trip to pick up supplies for the summer and the deck, that was the plan, unfortunately, for her, Jax was in a mood. She turned to shout at him, but he disappeared again, like a kid in a candy store.

Jetta heard a cart with squeaky wheels approaching, she whirled ready for another of Jax’s puns and to give him a small piece of her mind. The old man pushing the cart stopped, a shocked look flashed across his face. The heat of embarrassment washed over Jetta’s face.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I thought you were someone else.”

“I am glad I am not that person,” Old Man Jenkins replied.

“Really, I am sorry. It’s been a long shopping trip.”

“What are you here for?” Jenkins asked.

“Summer outdoor supplies and some stuff to fix the deck. What are you here for?”

Jenkins hesitated for a moment, pretending to clean off his glasses, “Um…I have a special project. I..uh…am finishing up my basement. Making the room I have always wanted,” he said in a rush.

“That sounds interesting,” Jetta replied.

“Wanna screw,” Jax said from behind her holding the largest screw she had ever seen in front of her face.

Old Man Jenkins laughed. His laughing got Jetta to laugh. Jetta grabbed the screw out of his hand and looked over her shoulder at Jax with her best, “not right now look.” Jax smiled like nothing had happened.

“He thought it was funny,” Jax said of Jenkins who was still laughing.

“This is my better half, Jax,” Jetta said.

“Hello,” Jax said, “I see you have hard wood too?”

All three of the giggled and snorted.

“I think I found what we are looking for a couple of aisles over,” Jax said to Jetta.

“Have you seen rope?” Jenkins asked Jax.

Jax thought for a moment, a mischievous look on his face, “Two aisle over next to the blue balls.”

Jetta nudged Jax in the ribs and gave him “the look” again.

“What?” Jax started, “There is a bin of blue balls. You know for kids.”

“Thank you,” Jenkins replied shaking his head and laughing, “It was nice meeting you both. Maybe our paths will cross again.”

“Nice meeting you,” Jetta said.

Old Man Jenkins went one way and Jax and Jetta went another way.

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 10

Previously.

In the original draft this came after their meeting with the first client. Now this comes before client meetings.

Another conversation in a police office…

Shouting police officers, suspects, and victims wagged an auditory war with the numerous blaring holos and vid screens around the booking room. The constant barrage of noise bothered Whiskers deeply. Folding his ears down only muted the noise in the police station a little.

Waiting gave Whiskers time to ponder the wisdom of coming to the SCPD office; there was a risk in reporting their actions to the police. Detective Orte, their contact, forwarded him to Officer Tanx, an officer familiar with Tumbledown. A plus in Whiskers’ book, he may have information, a minus in that he might want to charge them for the deaths of the gangers. Always a risk.

“He can see you now,” a young female Illietheril officer said from behind her desk.

“Thank you officer,” Whiskers replied.

Whiskers stepped out of the crowded booking room into the back offices. Silence or the closest thing to silence in the hallway. With each step quiet and quieter, until Whiskers stood outside an office for a giant. Standing in the doorway Whiskers could stretch his arms out to either side and not touch the doorframe. Sitting, Whiskers hoped, behind a giant desk, Officer Tanx beckoned Whiskers in with a wave of a large four fingered hand.

“Whiskers, come on in,” Tanx said.

Stepping into Tanx’s office Whiskers said, “You have a very spacious office.”

“That’s funny,” Tanx’s laughter rumbled around his office, “Haven’t heard that one before.” Another rumbling laugh, “Spacious office, indeed. Detective Orte sent you to me because I might know something, did I get that right?”

Until sitting in Officer Tanx’s office, Whiskers thought he was tall, staring up at Tanx’s face brought home lots of uncomfortable memories of sitting at the children’s table for holidays. “That is correct. He said you are an expert on Tumbledown and the gangs that make Tumbledown home.”

“I am your expert then. What did you want to know?”

Sitting straighter, Whiskers consulted his data-pad, “Recently, an investigation took us into Tumbledown where we found a well-equipped gang defending a clean room.”

“And you want to know who is providing the equipment and the clean room?” Tanx interrupted while manipulating his holo-desk display. “Is this your investigation?” Tanx sarcastically asked, enlarging the holo-display. Images of several dead gang members and a demolished clean room.

Clearing his throat, thankful Puddles was not there, “Yes. That looks like our investigation. A Doctor Marlowe hired us to find his three daughters who he thought were with their boyfriends in Tumbledown,” Whiskers rushed. “Additional information led us to investigate quickly. My partner and I encountered the gangers who attacked before we could ask any questions about the three women,” Whiskers finished with a gasp.

Tanx did not stop looking directly at Whiskers while he spoke, “First, relax. Second, you and your partner are not going to be charged. Unless you make a habit of killing gangers.”

“Really?”

“Really. Gangers attacked you, evidence shows that and you will file a report to make it official. Does not hurt that all of them were registered offenders.”

“I will file the report.”

Tanx gave Whiskers an “of course you will” look, “As for the gangers they were members of Black Myst. Nothing special about them, just another Tumbledown gang. The personal shield found on this ganger is an Oakenshield model. Again, nothing special. The clean room, by the time investigations arrived, was no longer clean and…”

“Let me guess,” Whiskers interjected, “Nothing special.”

“You guessed it. The only special in the entire place, the clean room. Our technicians are still running tests and examining the computers. I can send you their findings when the come in, but that could take weeks.”

“Thank you, any information is appreciated. Where do I file that report?”

“Right here,” Tanx brought the form on the screen and then offered his hand to shake. Shaking hands with Tanx, Whiskers was once again reminded of times at the kiddie table.