Reliquary
I was in the chancellor's office. He was telling me some bullshit about the new mission I was being placed on. I had to find some girl, her name was Exanova Chronicless, and I had to save her soon. She was dying in about 10 days or so from this merry March morning I was under stress on. I had 10 whole days to save her bacon and her tights from the primordial pizza oven, because in this reliquary, there was no getting anything done before it was done to death. I had black hair, a white t-shirt on, and a black long-sleeved button up collared shirt above that, which was pretty much all I ever wore. I also had on my blue jeans, and underneath those, you didn't need to know, and on top of that, the socks I wore and the boots that I always found I couldn't stop myself from putting on again in the morning when I really wanted to sleep in and not test the waters of some new manner of street warfare, I also wore my favorite underwear. Underwater, they could probably be better traded in for a pair of scuba diving short-shorts, but I always wore the same outfit.
The chancellor told me I had 10 days to save Exanova's dull ass from the shit she had gotten herself into. I had to make up for lost time. I went into the library and found the book I had been searching for. It was some old tome. I told myself I'd never needed to see what was impossible to describe. It was the Exanova Chronicles. She was just another bad omen. This ditzy girl was caught by some strange but probably pretty smart people. She was calling my name out loud.
Exanova Chronicless. What kind of name is that? Is she a good book or something waiting to be read? I was sure she was already dead. They wouldn't just let her hang with them, yeah right. They had already had her done and devoured. The dirty work was the first thing they thought of. Then the body would be cut up into little pieces, and then dissolved in acid, and then eaten by some otherworldly... hey, wait. Otherworldly? I considered my options. I loaded myself into the car that I had been driving since I was first born. Only, it wasn't that long ago that I got the oil changed, and the car was making me cringe something awful. I had to get it through her thick skull to come clean with me. But where was she hiding? The Goddamn little pretty bitch. She was wearing her school outfit in the photo they had given me along with her files. I read them but couldn't make out anything positive about the situation. She was gone for sure. She was up in the air, caputz. She was totally done for. And there would be nothing left when I got there.
She was arranging for a man to save her. And I wasn't gonna be her knight in shining armor. She was lost somewhere out there. And it stunk, but I had to find her. Or else what? Well, that's my job to know and yours to keep on wondering why, dipshit. I only do this for the money. She's out there, somewhere, and I'm gonna save here. Not that I even know where to start.
Chapter 1
The Exanova Chronicles
That was just the prologue. Now I'm really starting to sweat. I talked to her parents. They didn't know any better than me, that's for sure. I got no new leads, nothing good to talk about, and it was over and done with just before Easter. I was sure they weren't telling the truth. One pretty little lie and they'd be going bye-bye. But I couldn't see them dropping the act that fast, no, not this soon into the little baby-batter sucker's loose frame story. She had to have done it herself. She climbed out the window or something, then got caught in the act. She stole her family's guns, or their whole bologna sandwiches. I sure wanted one right now. Mmh, phoney bologna. One sammich for me, please! Coming right up, governor! The chancellor back at base told me the whole, shitty story, one small lump and two to chew on, that's for damn sure, oh man, that is for damn sure. It was a total shame. And here I was now. Just driving around, making a pretty penny just doing nothing.
I locked and loaded my keister into the magistrate's office. He told me he wasn't going there, no way. But he had to fight about it. I told his pretty little transfer student my name and showed her my mean credentials.
"Mr. Stormare, sir?"
Yeah, that was my name. Peter Stormare. Like I was some TV show hasbeen. No, these were fake credentials. But she wouldn't know that, now, would she? Yeah, like my badge said, I was Angel City P.D., and she was my mystery girlfriend who we needed to place some bling on right now. The nitty gritty was that I worked for no one. Not anyone that she knew. Not most people. It was for Hecatoncheires, the local when-you-don't-know, we-do collective the dingbats in their high orifices call when it's time to decide who, what, when and where, not why and how, no sirree bob. No how no way. And I was itching to comb that larder. Yeah, that's how you spin a phrase. No, that's really how you spell my name, dumbass. Peter Stormare. Just like that. P-E-T-E-R big space right here, effin' quit it, because that's not my middle initial, you bitch! No, put it right here, no THERE! I was huffing and puffing and trying to knock some sense into this fucking dumbass nose-sirree bob having me for a simpleton fucking douchebag. It's Peter Stormare. And I made her spell it correctly the first time. P-E-T-E-R big effin' space right here, once again, no, not that way, here, let me do your friggin' job for you, ma'am. No, here we go. Oh, shit, yeah. Just like that. And here we go. All's said and done with, over and out, goodbye. Huh, what's that? Yes, that's how you pronounce it, spell it, AND say my middle fucking initial, you fucking huh, what's that? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah! No. No. No! That's right. No, not that one. Yep, just like that. Oh, wow. And wow again. You really eat turds, huh, you nerdy ass looking motherfucker? Yeah. Just gotta, oh, yeah! There we go, dumbass! All signed in and it ain't even past 11:30 yet. Time to go shoot the shit with this neanderthal up in the high abscesses of this shithole. I walked into the only elevator in town, and the big guy inside let me know the timetables weren't up yet. No shit, big guy, it's up there! I was heading up faster than a rabbit in a coke sack, and twice as slow as well. She was down below, checking me out, these nads from up here to down there must have looked like apples and bacon cheddar melts. I was gold hungry. And so was she. Maybe we'd get together later, yeah, honey, you down there calling security! I took out the big lardass to my left and ah, shit. There he was. "Mr. Detective! I see you're still here. Didn't I ask you to leave, son? Now let me tell you why we don't bother Mr. Peter Gabriel Santa Clause Rudolph the Red Nose Fucking Reindeer Overlord Fucking Harbinger of Death Curtis Fucking McCarthy, numbnuts! And see to it that he don't get any supper, either! Huh!" he said. Oh, this big ass dude had me kicked the fuck out of his highchair tower of the awesome and evil retirement hedgefund madness. I was outside nursing my wounds. I wasn't about to let that slide. Oh! Montgomery James Fiasco Santa Clause Lucidio Bergenswitz, what can we do now? I was asking myself, and my long-ass timeframe to get to ol' Mrs. Butterfingers, and it was half past noon. Time to saddle up and get to butt chuggin'. I had to see if Ol' Mr. Santa-slimo Rodrigofucko here was telling the truth. Some detective had come in here, all right, but that wasn't to say he hadn't uncovered NOTHING. The detective had to be from Angel City P.D.. Just my luck. Only, no it wasn't, because HE was under duress or something, not ME! Ow! And my arm hurt just from knocking twice on Heaven's door, twice as well! Purdy sure that kinda shit is illegal, son. Now let's see here...
I checked the larder, twice. And the manifest destiny order. I also had a nerd nosing in on my phonsies funnying. And she wasn't funny about it. They kicked me out once again flat on my ass. And it wasn't fun to see. Now, if I was a betting man, and I can't be sure that I'm not sure that ain't a good idea sometimes, well, let's go! I was up and at 'em and in the shit so soon until it hit me.