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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #1450706
A very rough draft of a story that i wish to make into a comic book.
“Love This City”
Part 1 of 4


“God I love this city. It always seems so big until you see it from up here”. Michael Roseland stands behind his desk, staring out the wall sized window of the seventy seventh floor of his office building.
Behind Roseland sit’s a man hidden in the shadows of the office. His silhouette is illuminated only by the burning tip of his cigar.
“That was a good speech tonight Roseland. The people of this city really trust you”.
Roseland walks away from the window to his mini bar and pours two glasses of scotch on the rocks.
“Of course they do. They have no one else to trust”, Roseland says handing the man one of the glasses. “We can run this entire city by it’s own fear. These are hard times for the people of New Eden. Crime, poverty, illness. Now they are all looking for some kind of savoir. All I have to do is promise them paradise“.

Dorian Worthy sits in his small third floor office, purposely trying not to look out of the window. The phone begins to ring as Dorian tightens his belt around his bicep. BRINGG. He picks up a syringe and flicks the needle. BRINGG. He slowly injects the needle into his arm and pressed the fluid in the syringe down into his veins. BRINGG. He sits back in his chair and sighs.
“You’ve reached Dorian Worthy P.I.”, the answering machine finally picks up. “Leave your name, the nature of the call, and a number I can get you back at”.
BEEP
“Dorian it’s Spears. Are you there? Listen I think I’ve got a pretty interesting case for you. It’s not human, that’s for damn sure. So just call me back when you get this”.
Dorian picks up the phone but instantly puts it back down. Dorian’s office is kind of the stereotypical office of any private investigator, files are scattered all over the desk top, half empty soda cans along with half smoke cigarettes and butts lying around the room, but strangely there are black feathers all over the floor.
Suddenly the phone rings again. This time Dorian answers.
“Worthy P.I.”.
“Dorian it’s Spears”.
“Hey Spears I just got your message”.
“Yeah, no shit. I just left it. Are you on that poison again? Goddamn it Dorian!”
“What do you need Spears”?
“I need you to come down to the station and take a look at this body. It’s some fuck up shit. The guys like inside out”.
“I’ll be there soon. By the way I got some info on your serial killer. I think he’s human”.
“And that’s out of your jurisdiction right”?
“To be honest with you, Spears, I don’t give a damn what you humans do to each other”.

On the outskirts of the city, in a small middleclass suburb, Morgan David pulls into his drive, exhausted after a long night of work. Tired and sluggish he walk up to his door, inserts his key and open it. He walks through the door and tosses his keys on the table next to him.
“Welcome home Morgan”.
Morgan looks up, startled, and sees a bald man wearing bandages around his eyes sitting in his dark living room on the couch.
“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want”?
“I’m here because you killed your girlfriend, Morgan, in cold blood”.
“What the hell are you talking about. I didn’t kill Claire. I’m about to go meet her, I didn’t kill her.”
The bald man stands up and pulls a silenced pistol out of the inside of his jacket pocket and puts one shot into Morgan’s forehead. Morgan falls to the ground dead.
“No, but you would have”.

to be continued…



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