A Night in Sacramento

It was high midnight in the old city of Sacramento, a place where the scent of rum and cigars ran through the air, and spray paint and fluorescent lights coated the walls. Crime’s always run rampant on these streets. Usually the cops would be all over the place around this time, desperately trying to end the midnight madness, meanwhile the private investigator would be in his office, figuring out whatever happened the night before. That’s how the story would usually go, anyways…

Tonight was different. The rum and smoke still overpowered the place, the cops still as frantic as ever. However, something was off. Screaming and yelling came from every direction, people running around like headless chickens as the cars smashed into each other. Stores across the city were home to more glass shards from the windows than it did products to sell.

...The world’s gone insane…

Not too far from the center, outside the office, was the private eye, who was sitting down on his porch steps, taking a drag or two as he looked upon the panicked public. He looked down at his pink slippers as he finished his third smoke and sighed. “Well, i suppose this is why there’s organized crime, huh?” He gave a small yet stupid grin to himself for his own “joke,” if one could call it that. 

“Hmm, I suppose so, dear”

The private jumped up and let out a cough, his heart skipping a beat. He gasped before turning around to see a man behind him, arms on the porch fence as he began chuckling like a madman. “Why do you look as if you had seen a ghost!” There was a certain layering of honey in his voice, something both off putting yet almost seductive in a sense; one you'd like to hear more of yet also want to punch his face.

“Don't try that with me again dipshit,” the investigator growled. The other grinned, a grin as wide as his top hat was tall. 

“Say, aren't you quite feisty there Seeker-”

“What the fuck do you want?” Seeker sighed.

The other’s arms slowly left the fence as he began walking towards him- no, more of a waltz. “Oh, you know, perhaps after the hour of me being here you’d think I’d get an answer-”

Seeker went into the box for another drag, facing away from the man. “Go on.”

“And yet you’ve been lighting cigarettes the whole time.”

Seeker darts his eyes back at the figure, at that god damn clock, soon moving to the rest of the body; strong cheekbones, yet his chin was nothing short of pathetic. His eye was large and his orange hair had grown long enough to need a hair tie to hold it. His hat blocking the small light he had above his office. He looked more like a young clown rather than a crime boss. For all he knows that could be exactly what he was going for. To be fair, though, Seeker himself wasn’t much better. With his pink slippers, messy, black hair and 5 eyes, he looked more like an SCP than a P.I.

“You aren't answering my question, Mettie,” he finally said. “What in hell do you want me to do?”

The boss bent down to get a closer look at Seeker. “The map of the city hall”

The P.I. glared, flicking a bit of the ashes on his latest cig at the man. “Tough luck.”

Mettie both raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at the response. “Oh? How come? Weren’t you in need of my help?”

“I needed competent men, you shit eating clown,” he yelled. “Our police force here cant even make a mark on faggots like you, let alone the government, and the military’s busy trying to keep the damn city from burning! If I had much of a choice we’d only have the police here and you’d be in the graves by now!” 

The don’s eye twitched. “Is that so” His voice gained a bit of a growl.

“Yeah! Is it?!”

The men both turn to the doorway where a woman stood, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed. Though, “woman” could be used lightly; she looked more like a snowman on stick legs and a lollipop head. “You can't generalize people like that! Only Im allowed to be the incompitent cop!” Seeker started, throwing his last cig on the ground.

“It’s the rebellion, who gives a shit”

“Hey!-”

They were both stopped by the boot of the boss, arms behind his back as he retained composure. “Calm down, you two. There is no need to get ‘hands on’ just yet.”

The cop was taken back. “What do you mean yet-”

Metranome ignored her. “Now, Mr. Seeker, I do believe it is in our best interests, as members of the rebellion, to remain a bit more transparent about our plans, and we could only aid you both if I know how to ‘aim for the head,’ if you will-”

The cop snickered at her recent thought, sitting back down. “Maybe try this ‘transparency’ thing with your wife,” she mumbled. “It’ll work wonders-”

Bam!

A blue blade hit the door frame faster than the tension rose. She slid down, dodging the attack ever so slightly, before looking back up to see his one eye widened, and the other began ticking faster, faster yet even faster. “I'm sorry, but I'm a little shy of hearing, would you like to run that one by me again?.”

She jerked up to try and get his face closer to that of Met’s. “I said that note touches me and I'm turning you in.” 

The don laughed in response; how could someone be so defiant? It gave a spark of energy, upon the flaming ball he’s already got. “Oh, weren't you on about being the “incompetent” one?” he teased as he got closer to her. “You’re cute, you know that-”

“Enough!”

Seeker shoved them both away from each other, Met trailing backwards a bit. “For christs sake, we can't do this rebellion thing if we keep arguing on pointless shit!” he yelled before taking a breath. He stood straight as he began to turn to the orange haired lunatic. “You want the maps? You two follow me.” He gestured to them to follow him as he began to go inside. “How the hell did I get myself here?” he said to himself.

“Very well then.”

The boss opened the door for the cop as they both went in to follow. And then the door shut closed.

And the outside of the office was silent, more silent than the rest of the city, at least...