Verbum Significatum

Jailhouse Blues

This whole mess started with a simple assignment. “Investigate for clues on a string of murders.” Should have been simple enough. It’s routine for me now, something I’ve done. Over and over again.

When I got to my destination, I encountered a quaint butler who couldn’t decide on his damn accent. I still have no idea where the guy is from. Regardless, he directed me to a table with a heavily armed bearded man already seated. Later, I came to know him as Murphy, and I’m pretty sure he hates me for some reason.

Upon taking my seat, hardly any time passed before the lights went out. Of course, I got up and starting searching for any hints as to what happened nearly immediately. Murphy followed suit, and we were unspoken companions. As we walked down the hall, looking for anything and anyone, there was a single room with a glow. Inside was this tiny guy, looked about 18 or 19. Apparently he was hired on for security detail, much to Murphy’s shock. He pulled up the breaker room on the computer screen, something I could have never done. I don’t know a damn thing about computers. What we saw shocked all three of us.

On the screen was a weird looking bird creature. Disregarding how strange this was, I supposed it to be a costume and went to the breaker room. All I found was a feather, slick with some strange black goo. That’s when the shrieks started.

The three of us decided to head up to the roof to check everything out. And with all of his wisdom, Vince opened the door. All the way. The bird immediately saw us and gave chase. We took a couple shots at it, but the bird was not phased. So, I slammed the door and we all ran back down the stairwell. On the way down, I suddenly remembered something! From a story I read as a child, these birds, they are..

weak to soda

So, as we entered the kitchen, Vince, that computer guy promptly tossed me a soda to defend myself with. My next brilliant idea was for us to push the tables against the door, but apparently Harpies don’t care about tables and doors. It was upon us almost as quickly as if there had been nothing in its way. Several shrieks and gunshots later, Vince and Murphy were strewn about, bleeding to death. And the bird.. The bird was dead on the ground. Thank god. When I reached to verify that it was dead, the damn thing melted into a puddle on the ground. All I wanted was a bit more evidence, so I scooped up some goo into a soda can.

I called the paramedics as soon as a could, and rode with Vince and Murphy to the hospital. We haven’t known each other long. But we just went through hell together, and that’s worth a lot more to me than months of idle chit-chat. Murphy was the only one conscious when we got to the hospital, and I had a chance to talk with a bit before I was so rudely interrupted. By my arrest. Murphy spoke up for me, to no avail, but the fact that he did says a lot about his character. Even if I was arrested anyway.

The arrest by procedure. I was taken in, questioned, stripped of my badge and gun. I had no excuses. How the fuck do you really explain a man sized bird trying to eat you? Needless to say, I’m no longer employed with the Chicago PD.




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