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why am I getting this Sherlock homes feeling of a reference....lol.
Elementary, my dear Robert
also it's been 2 days IH, I'm disappointed :|
Vote: Iron Helix
Well Jinkies, I'm just playing my role, there Scoobs.
*lights up a cigarrette*
You should all be aware that our host had quite a few skeletons in his closet.
I should start from the beginning.
I was contacted by the recently departed here a couple days ago. My services are frequently sought after by those who require discretion in matters of a personal nature. If you haven't noticed by now, I'm not a corporeal being. I am a spook. A ghost. As such I can go unnoticed at times. It's a useful trait in my line of work.
Anyways, the count comes into my office spinning a yarn about some group of humans who robbed his joint and ruffed him up a bit. He wants me to find out who they are, where they live, the whole kit and caboodle. He says to me the fuzz wouldn't touch the situation, so I was his only other choice. It's only later I find out he never went to the cops.
In every man's past there's some dirt, and the Count was no exception. You all may have thought that our host was a made guy. But the truth of the matter was the Count was in it deep. Mr. Drac had developed some deep debts to a certain group of individuals who supplied him with his dope supply. Yes, you heard that right. Our host was a dope fiend. And by dope I mean the red candy. Blood. He couldn't get enough of the junk, and it was costing him big.
Mr. Drac owed it big time to a group of shylocks who catered to the undead crowd with appetites of a questionable nature. They kept Drac well stocked so long as he had the dough to pay for it. It was an equitable arrangement to my understanding for quite some time, that was until Mr. Drac fell on hard times. It seems he had rashly invested a significant amount of cabbage with a certain professor who needed a sponsor to help fund his army of killer robots. As it turned out, the enterprise was a flop and the man was a complete quack and our esteemed host found himself hard behind the eight ball.
My connections informed me, that at some point when the Count ran out of dough, he met with his usual supplier, some broad I think it was. Anyways, when the Count couldn't pay and the dame wouldn't give him the stuff, the Count went completely goofy. He attacked the girl and left her for dead, not only taking all the dope she had on her, but tasted a bit of her own cooking as well if you catch my drift.
So the Count at this point comes and seeks my services ostensibly because someone had robbed him. I tells him my fee is half a large per day. He tells me he's throwing a shindig at his joint the next night and he'd have my retainer for me then. I say swell and we part ways. Now work for me has been a bit slow for a while and since I had the time I got an early start on the case. That's how I know what I do.
So I pull the boiler up to the Count's joint tonight and I sees yous lot.
I glances around the room, taking stock of the guests our host deemed fit to attend. There was the wolfman smoking a gasper in the corner. I heard tell he had just done a stint in the hoosegow for something violent. The mummy was bumping gums with a zombie overs at the buffet table. The zombie I could tell wasn't much of a talker. He didn't have the brains to keep a chin with the more intellectual types. He might not have had the brains but had an appetite, and a dark one too. He was another customer of the Count's suppliers. Speaking of wise heads, the professor was there yammering on to some monster or other about his work on creating a race of 'Atomic Supermen' and conquering the world. No doubt he was going to try and bleed Mr. Drac out of a little more cabbage to fund his madness.
Notably absent was the big man himself. The man who owed me an explanation... and money.
I had noticed there was hardly a dame in the joint. The only ankle I saw was being felt up by the leprechaun. By her rags, I could guess she was a witch or something. She wasn't much of a looker to me. The only thing she had going for her was a nice pair of gams that seemed to go on forever. She wasn't the Drac's squeeze at least. That glittering dandy wasn't known to be a lady killer.
The green little man, though, had clearly dipped a little too much into the eel juice.
"I've got a pot o' gold for you ate the end of my rainbow if ya know what I mean, lassie ehehehehe!" he had said to her.
The dame told the mick to get his flappers off her and he subsequently toddled off singing.
"My dear, you've the face of a crone,
But with you, I'd still bury my bone,
When we're alone late tonight,
I'll put out the light,
And I'll kiss your Blarney Stone!"
With someone that openly lecherous, it's not surprising someone would want him bumped off. I didn't hold ill will towards the bird, but clearly someone did.
When Drac finally showed up I managed to get him cornered and ask about my money. I tells him he owes me two large for my troubles and my silence. "Two large ah ah ah" he says back with that ridiculous laugh of his. That's supposedly why he came down here to the cellars, to get me my dough. I don't see no cash down here, so I can only surmise his intentions were to snub me of my take. I didn't get what was mine, but at least he got what was his.
That's the long and short of it.
I can't tell you much more than that. What I can tell you is I didn't kill anyone. Mr. Helsing it turns out is a big shot in the gang that Drac got his dope from. He's probably here after a debt, both of money and of blood. What I can also tell you is if Mr. Helsing's here, then he ain't alone. He'll have brought more muscle with him, that's for sure. And he ain't no ordinary button man neither. He and his gang don't take kindly to thems that cross them. You do and you end up in a wooden kimono like the Count there. So everybody better watch their back. It's every man for himself down here as far as I'm concerned.
Vote: James Dahl
...for now.
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