(( This post was shamelessly modeled after part of the Maltese Falcon. Sit back, enjoy. It's all in good fun. ))
Bob pulled on his detective's hat (it was a fedora made out of folded printer paper, sharpied black) and his detective's duster (one of Rick's old ones, so large on the demibeing that it flowed around him more like a cape three times his size), pulled out his detective's pipe (it was plastic and made bubbles), and put himself into the mood for detecting with his favorite mystery show (Darkwing Duck). It was time to get to serious business! He settled into his chair and booted up the computer.
Claire and Serah Farron were gone. There was not much he could do about it without convincing Rick or Quinn to unlock his restraints and allow him to tear apart space-time in a mad search for answers. He could continue to be sad, to worry, to fret, OR, he could instead be AWESOME, and let his muse inspire him even in her absence. There was a mystery afoot, and detective drama's were at an all new height in popularity. Why not do a new mystery fanfic? If Rick could do it for a living, Bob thought it *had* to be easy.
"Bob, the super detective of RhyDin, was a thin and wiry man. His long face was sharp and angular, pale except for twin coal black eyes that could totally see through your soul and know all your secrets, because he's so detectivey. His nose was large and hawkish, his lips thin and in the habit of forming crooked, sarcastic smiles, and black hair swept back to form a point on his large forehead. And you know what they say about men with large foreheads -- they had large brains. For detecting. All in all, he looked like a very rad satan, a man women found irresistible and men feared. He was Bob. Detective Bob.
His secretary, Queenie, was on the intercom. "There's a guy who wants to see you, boss. Name of Dick. Dick Blade."
"A customer?" Bob inquired.
"Of course. He says he's got a doozy of a case."
"Send him in, darling."
Bob could hear some discussion out in the waiting room before the door finally opened. Queenie was ushering someone in, "Will you come in, Mr. Blade?" Queenie was gorgeous, if a bit slow. Bob kept her around as a favor. Poor gal wouldn't be able to find work otherwise.
"Yes," an incredibly dorky voice said, and a fat acne covered kid stepped through the doorway. He moved slowly on account of being so enormously fat and dorky, waddling instead of walking. Mr. Blade's t-shirt stretched tight across his man boobs, once white and now horribly stained sweat yellow. His jeans were like large canvas bags. His face, chubby, was bruised and swollen beyond their normal pudginess. Bob would have giggled at him if he wasn't such a stern and bad ass detective. Besides, that would have given away the twist ending.
Bob waved at the couch pressed against the wall instead of the chair in front of his desk, quite sure the large boy would break the latter and might still be a bit much for the former.
"Thanks, man," said the dorken wonder, dropping into the couch so hard it creaked and bowed.
Bob nodded, smiling. Queenie had closed the door behind Mr. Blade and the detective could already hear the sound of mouse clicks. On Tumblr, no doubt, looking up more gifs.
"So, what can I do for you, Mr. Blade?" Bob was leaning back in his chair and setting his feet on his desk. His shoes were totally Air Nikes. With flames.
Mr. Blade was breathing hard from having to walk from the chairs in the waiting room the couch, so it took him a second to get the words out.
"Word. But, right, like, can you really..?"
"Help? Of course. I'm Bob. RhyDins greatest detective." Which, of course, everyone knew. Bob eyed him with his detectively black eyeballs. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"
"That was after school."
"Yes."
"I was taking my Amazing Mysteries #1 to the auction house to get it appraised."
"Okay." Bob could see where this was going.
"It's very rare and very valuable. As you know, it has the first appearance of Super Detective. And my copy was mint."
"So, a lot of money?" Bob knew the figure already.
"Uh-huh. I was going to sell it and buy one of those sex robots from Japan." Mr. Blade bounced in glee, a motion that made the floor shift.
"I'm sure. But you ran into a problem." More like a fist ran into your face, thought Bob, without saying it.
"Yeah. I was a few blocks from here and someone came out and jumped me. I tried to fight them off but.." Mr. Blade looked down at the floor, awkward and ashamed. If Bob had been less of a hardened bad ass, he would have laughed out loud.
"Hm. What was the address of where this attack took place? I'll need to sweet the scene."
Mr. Blade rattled off a street name and number, which Bob faked writing down. "It's out in front of the 7-11. I was getting a mid walk snack when it happened."
"Yes. Did you see who attacked you?"
"Nuh-uh. I think they hit me with a bat."
Bob rolled his eyes. It hadn't been a bat! Bob was -- just getting ahead of himself. He switched tracks, "Did anyone see you take out the item?"
Mr. Blade's shameful reaction told Bob what he already knew. "Yes. I mean, I just wanted to show the clerk! She goes to my school. I .. just wanted her to like me!"
"Was there anyone else there?"
"Yeah. I don't know, a buncha guys in line behind me. I didn't get a good look at them." Mr. Blade looked sad. And like a dork.
"I'll go there and get the tapes. Have you contacted the authorities?"
"Yeah, but they weren't listening to me. They said they don't handle .. they don't handle.. you know."
Bob raised a detectivish eye brow, wanting clarification.
"They said they don't handle nerds losing comics." His face said it all, and if Bob didn't get him out of here soon, he was going to start crying.
"Don't worry about them. In fact, don't even contact them anymore. I can take the case from here. Of course, my fees.." Bob trailed off with a whistle, indicating that his super detective skills came at a high price. If you wanted the best, you paid for the best.
"Oh, I can afford it! My dad's rich, and I have his credit card!" The card was produced after MUCH digging in pockets. Mr. Blade forced himself to his feet, no easy task, and waddled over to set it before Bob.
"Mm, yes. We can work something out. If you'll just .. leave this here? .. I can charge you at the end of the case. Agreed?"
"Yeah! Awesome! Everyone said you were the best, man! I'm going to go tell all my friends I hired Bob, they'll be so jealous!" Mr. Blade would be bouncing around, hyper and excited, if he wasn't such a chubby dork. Instead he kind of wobbled back and forth.
"Mmhm. Now, I'm going to get on your case right now, so if you'll excuse me," Bob gestured at the door, buzzing Queenie over the intercom. "Honey, can you get this fine gentleman's information and send him on his way, please?"
"Of course, Darling!" She replied. Soon she was opening the door and inviting Mr. Blade out of the room. "This way, young sir. I'll just need to ask for your name, number, address, known kin, and blood ty--" the rest of the conversation was silenced when she closed the door behind her and Mr. Blade, leaving Bob alone.
Hm, he thought. Today was a good day to go to 7-11 after all. While Mr. Blade and Queenie were busy chatting in the waiting room, Bob opened the top left drawer and evilly eyed his new copy of Amazing Mysteries #1.
Oh yes. Not only was Bob RhyDins greatest detective. But he was also it's greatest VILLAIN.
Cue commercial outro music and Bob's sinister laugh!"
Oh, Bob liked this one. Not only were detective dramas real big, but villains in the main role? This was going to be a hit. Bob was already uploading it to his blog before the second episode of Darkwing Duck came on, wiggling around in his chair excitedly. Everything he wrote was brilliant of course, but this time he'd really hit it out of the park.
"Dick Blade." Snickersnicker.
