Shadows of Valderia: An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir

Out of four hundred different roads in the city that ended with Lane, Albany lane had to be a contender for the worst. Once an industrial estate across the bridge, Albany lane had lain abandoned for so long nature had started to reclaim it. Sprouting from the trickle of turgid water running through it, moss and various predatory plants had climbed the banks and suffocated the crumbling concrete. The whole place smelled of damp and earth. Only two warehouses still stood, the rest had half crumbled, or their roofs had caved in under the weight of feral pigeons roosting in them. It was the kind of place where someone could fall off the face of the earth and disappear.

This thought ran round Timmy’s mind as they approached. Getting across the bridge had been difficult enough. They had decided to leave their uniforms behind, and there was no chance of taking an official meat wagon without raising suspicion. After arguing with a nervous cabbie for twenty minutes, they had assured him they really were police officers and that no harm would come to him. Even so, he had only taken them as far as Durry Bridge. After that they had to walk. Fortunately, being Human had made their passing across the bridge fairly easy, and the rain had made sure no one wanted to hang around too long to grill them. After that, they walked. And walked. And walked. In silence they trudged through the rain, getting lost twice, before finally coming to this graveyard of industry.

Albany lane would have to really pull its bootstraps up to even be considered derelict. It had a haunted atmosphere that wasn’t helped by the mist that was starting to come in. Timmy and Wally stole through the abandoned estate, searching for signs of life. They resorted to hand signals and head nods, too afraid to speak less they disturbed the spirits of the place. Finally, they found signs of life. A fire flickered somewhere, giving off hints of telltale light. They worked their way towards it, huddled in the shadows of the buildings, their hoods pulled up, and their clubs held under their capes at the ready. Timmy was soaking wet by the time they heard voices. Rain combined with his own treacherous sweat was making him chafe badly and his club felt like it would slip from his hands any moment. Wally sidled up next to him as they crouched behind some debris and took stock of the situation.

“‘E’s not alone,” Wally whispered to Timmy.

“No, Charlie said he would have a little crew with him,” Timmy said.

“Wot do you reckon? Could we take ‘em out?”

“Take them out! How?”

“Well we got our truncheons, we could sneak up on ‘em and bonk ‘em on the ‘eads.”

“That sort of thing only works in story books. Besides, we’re coppers, we shouldn’t have to sneak around bonking people on the heads.”

“Wot, you reckon we should just walk up to ‘em?”

“Why not?” Timmy said, trying to sound cavalier and coming off as naive. “Charlie said they're a bunch of wannabes. We tell them were police and that Charlie sent us. After all, their boss is a snitch, he should be happy to see us.”

“You reckon?”

“I dunno, maybe?”

“Alright. ‘Ow should we play it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Should we like go in all tough or like should we be friendly?”

“Why would we be friendly with them? They’re criminals.”

“Oh right yeah. Okay, we go in and we take control.”

“Yeah, exactly. We just have to be commanding and they’ll do as we say.”

“Commanding. Right. Okay. You gonna lead the way?”

“Why me?”

“Coz you’re older.”

“No I’m not.”

“Well you been a copper longer than I ‘ave. You ‘ave seen-e-ority.” Wally had to scrunch his face up to try and pronounce that one.

“Fine. Okay. Just… follow my lead.”

“Yessir.”

Timmy took a deep breath and steadied himself. He felt a wave of fresh sweat pour down his back. His heart fluttered as he stepped out from behind the debris. Gritting his teeth, Timmy took two deep breaths through his nose and then marched towards the two men.

“Who’s that?” One of the men, a lanky Human with a gaunt face and far too many ear rings.

“My name is Corporal Timothy Edgewater and I am here to see…”

“Piss off, you ain’t no copper,” the other man snarled. He had jagged yellow teeth that matched his bulbous yellow eyes and his shaved head.

“W-what? Yes I am,” Timmy squeaked, all the air deflating out of him.

“No you ain’t. You're some brat. Now piss off ‘fore you get hurt!”

“Me and my partner n-need to talk to…”

“What partner?”

Timmy turned around and saw there was no sign of Wally.

“You a burner? We ain’t got nuffin right now. Not with all these riots kicking off, so get lost.”

“I-I-I’m not, I’m Corporal…”

The jagged toothed man picked up a rock and hurled it. Timmy flinched and raised his arm, wincing as the rock bounced off his elbow.

“That is assaulting an officer!” Timmy wailed, throwing back his cloak and getting his truncheon caught up in it.

“He’s got a tool!” the lanky one yelled.

As Timmy fought with his cloak he heard the metallic rasp of weapons being picked up.

“Wally?” Timmy called out into the night. Another rock bounced off his shoulder. “Stop throwing rocks at me!” Timmy finally extricated his truncheon from his cloak and brought it to bear as the thugs advanced on him. “Wally!” he cried out again, the tip of his truncheon quivering.

“We’re gonna turn you inside out and… ow!”

A shadow loomed up behind the lanky man and brought a truncheon down on his head.

“Wally!” Timmy cried out in relief.

“Did yer see Tim? I bonked him right on the ‘ead!”

“Well done!”

“Ow, me bloody head! He’s bonked me right on it!”

The look of triumph slipped from Wally’s face. He had clearly been expecting the man to crumple to the floor unconscious. Instead, he whirled around with a metal pipe in his hands and a look of vengeful fury on his face.

“You little shit… ow!”

This time time Timmy whacked him across the back of his head. The lanky man dropped his pole and slapped both hands on top of his head, hopping about in circles.

“Stop hitting me in me bloody head! Terry, do something!” he yelled at the jagged tooth man who was standing there with a rusty knife looking nonplussed.

Terry lurched into action and took a swipe at Wally with his knife. Wally hopped away and blindly swung his truncheon. He missed Terry by a foot and managed to whack the lanky man right in the nose.

“Ahh my thuckin’ nothe!” he stumbled backwards and tripped over Timmy’s foot, cracking his head for a third time.

Terry, the man with the rusty blade, used a knife with as much skill as his toothbrush. He jabbed wildly at Wally, while Wally continued to blindly swing his truncheon. Neither of them came close to hitting the other.

“I’m coming Wally!” Timmy yelled, adrenaline robbing him off his breath.

He stumbled forward, tripping over the downed man, stepping painfully on his crotch by accident, and tumbled into Terry. His bulk took Terry down and they landed in an ungainly heap. Wally was on them in an instant, wildly flailing with his truncheon hitting anything and everything.

“Stop resisting!” Wally screamed in a moment of primal instinct.

“Ow. Ow. Ow!” Terry wailed.

“Ow! Wally, that was me… ow!” Timmy cried out as he wriggled off of Terry.

“Sorry,” Wally gasped, pulling Timmy up. “‘E’s still got the knife!”

“Drop it!” Timmy ordered and before Terry could comply both officers began thumping him with their truncheons.

“Ow! Stop! Ow! I’ll drop… Ow!”

“Drop it!” Wally cried again, the rhythmic slapping of their truncheons on flesh drowned out Terry’s words.

Finally, after a few minutes, Timmy grabbed Wally’s arm and they stepped back gasping for breath.

“Cor…” Wally said, bent over double and sucking wind. “Kicking shit out of people is nuff ‘ard work.”

Timmy, too out of breath to speak, nodded in agreement. Terry whimpered on the floor, his knife flung away during the beating.

“Right, where’s your boss?” Wally said to Terry, menacing him with the truncheon.

“‘Oo wants to know?” a voice piped from behind them.

Wally and Timmy spun to see six more goons spilling out of the warehouse, all of them armed and ugly. In the middle was a cue ball on legs. The only shape his body seemed to have was circles. His belly was so rotund his arms couldn’t reach his pockets. His head was also a perfect circle, with enough dark stubble on the sides to suggest going bald hadn't been a style choice. He had an ugly, rat like face that was covered in patches of stubble and scabs. He waddled out of the centre of his goons and looked them up and down.

“‘Oo are you lot?” he squeaked at them. “Why you bashed up me boys?”

“Are you Tommy Plumb?” Timmy said to him, feeling less confident now they were heavily outnumbered.

“So you ‘eard of me?” The little snowman looked mightily proud of himself as he looked around at his gang. “Not surprised, I’m a proper villain, real Face about the place.”

“Well, no, Corporal Charlie sent us to talk to you,” Timmy explained.

“Wot?” Tommy said, the look of superiority dropping from his face.

“Yeah, on account of you being a filthy grass,” Wally added helpfully.

“Wot? Wot you talking about?” Tommy laughed nervously and scratched at his scabs. “Y-you lot coppers?!”

“Yes. I’m Corporal Edgewater and this is Corporal Washbottom.”

“Washbottom,” one of the goons sniggered.

“And wot about it?” Wally said, raising his truncheon with menace.

The goon stopped grinning when he saw the steel in Wally’s eyes.

“It’s alright boys,” Tommy said, turning to his gang. “I’ll take care of this, you go on and get back inside and git to work.

The goons grumbled and eyed Timmy and Wally coldly as they shuffled back into the warehouse. As soon as the door had shut Tommy spun on them.

“Wot you come ‘ere for!” he squealed. “I ain’t done nuffin!”

“We need information,” Timmy said.

“Shh, not here. Come to the office.” Tommy’s beady little rat eyes flicked from side to side before he nodded his head for them to follow him.

Tommy waddled into the warehouse and Wally and Timmy had the shock of their lives. The warehouse was a lively engine room of production dedicated to smut. Pictures, drawing, cartoons, life-like rendering, hundreds… thousands of images of scantily dressed ladies, of every species, surrounding the two officers. There were piles of lewd sex acts, heaps of lingerie catalogues, reams of naked figures. There were even little collectable playing cards with naked women printed on them. The men who had come out of the warehouse were now back hunched around their stations, an ancient printing press cranking out more and more smut, as they sorted and piled it up. In one corner of the room there was a pockmarked Human woman and a Gnome so inebriated his whole body quivered, in a sexual position while another man hastily sketched their forms. Two more, equally naked and dead eyed women, sat on a sofa smoking something out of a long pipe, their eyelids flickering open and shut.

“Oh my…” Timmy said, his eyes widening.

“Bloody ‘ell,’ Wally breathed, going pink and then bright red the more his eyes roamed the room.

Timmy’s mouth went dry and his face became so hot you could fry an egg on it. He lowered his gaze and stared at the floor as they followed Tommy.

“Would you give it a rest!” The rat faced pimp barked at the two women on the sofa. “If you’re too messed up to perform again I swear I’ll whip yer ‘til yer can’t sit right.”

“Oh fuck off,” one of the women said, giving Tommy the finger.

“Bloody whores,” Tommy muttered under his breath as he kicked open his office door.

Timmy and Wally quickly scampered in after him, feeling filthy just having walked through such a place.

“Wot the ‘ell you got goin’ on in ‘ere!” Wally choked out once the door shut.

“Just a bit of porno,” Tommy said, scratching his stomach and easing himself into his chair. “Everyfin’s fully legal,” he added quickly.

“It shouldn’t be!” Timmy said, wiping sweat from his face.

“Come on now, two young fellas like yerselves, yer telling me you ain’t never looked at a blue rag?” Tommy said, his lascivious little eyes gleaming.

“No I have not!” Timmy said indignantly, while Wally chose to remain tactfully silent.

“Shame. I could get yer a little time with one of the lovely ladies out there, free of charge o’ course, if’n you promise to leave off from here.” Tommy winked at Timmy.

“That is bribing an officer of the law! And that is most certainly illegal!” Timmy’s voice had become rather high pitched and squeaky.

Tommy gave a nervous chuckle and scratched the sores on the side of his bald head.

“No no, only jokin’, officer.”

“I hope so.”

“Well then, what do you want? I don’t know nuffin’ about nuffin’ and I don’t appreciate you coppers comin’ round here and interrupting my important business!”

“Slingin’ burn?” Wally asked.

“Wot? Who’s slingin’ burn? Wot’s burn anyways? Don’t know nuffin’ bout that sorta stuff.” Tommy folded his arms across his chest, making his ample bosoms squash together.

“Really? Because your man offered us some when we arrived,” Timmy said, trying to narrow his eyes suspiciously in an excorciating fashion. The effect wasn’t quite right and he just looked like he had a headache.

“Bloody idiots!” Tommy snarled. “I told them to keep their mouths shut if they don’t recognise someone!”

“So do we have to haul you in and question you at the station?” Timmy said. “Or will you comply and we let you walk.”

“Haul me in?” Tommy screeched in outrage. “Do you know who I am? I’m Tommy Plumb! I’m a Face about the place! I could have both of you mugs disappeared like that!” He clicked his surprisingly girlish fingers together. “You don’t threaten me! I threaten… ow!” The wooden echo of Wally’s truncheon cracking off his head bounced. “Wot you do that for!”

“Well if you don’t wanna do it the easy way… then I’m the hard way!” Wally raised his truncheon again.

“Wally! No!” Timmy said, blocking his truncheon with his hand. “We can’t go around bonking everyone on the head.”

“Why not?”

“Because, that’s police brutality.”

“I know, that’s why I’m doin’ it.”

“But you're not allowed to!”

“Since when?”

“I don’t think we were ever allowed to hit people with truncheons for no reason.”

“I do have a reason.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, e’s not telling us wot we wanna know and he smells like cheese!” Wally raised his truncheon again and Tommy cowered.

“Still, I don’t think we can hit him unless it’s self defence,” Timmy said, getting in front of the truncheon again.

“Well, if ‘e gives me a reason, I’m gonna give ‘im a proper good bonking upside his fat, little head.”

“You heard him Tommy, I can only hold him back for so long.” Timmy said to the quivering snitch.

“Alright, alright, you don’t ‘ave to get ‘eavy wiv me. I’ll play ball. Wot d’yer wanna know?”

Timmy, with his back to Tommy, gave Wally a wide eyed look of disbelief: that had actually worked!

“We want to know who set the fire in the Goblin Quarter, killing that family?”

“Wot? Wot you wanna know about that for?” Tommy scratched at his scabby jowls.

“Because murder is a crime!” Timmy said.

“Yeah right,” Tommy said, nodding his bowling ball of a head. “I get that. But I don’t know nuffin’ about that. My boys don’t get involved wiv all that Human First crap. Far as I’m concerned, long as your gold is gold, you’re alright in my books. But I do get it. Them foreigners do smell and they can’t even talk proper.”

“That’s ironic,” Timmy muttered.

“Who’s that? Don’t know ‘im.”

“What? Never mind, what were you saying about the Human First?”

“Oh I don’t mix meself up wiv them lot. They’re bonkers. All that Humans are the soo-soo-soo…”

“Superior,” Timmy finished for him.

“Right yeah. Like we’re the best species and all that. They’re mad.”

“Mad enuf to burn a whole family to death in their beds?” Wally growled at him.

“Yeah… no… I dunno. They’re mad and I stays away from ‘em. That’s all I know.”

“Is it?” Timmy menaced him with his truncheon and steely eyed glare.

“Well… there ‘as been some gossip on the streets. You know wot it’s like. But, I ‘eard some young boy’s been taking credit for clipping a bunch of Goblins, setting fires, all that sort of stuff. ‘E’s a big mouth but people take ‘im serious.”

“What’s his name?” Timmy asked.

“I dunno. ‘Unter something.”

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, that’s all I got. But he does all speeches and stuff at their rallies. If’n you go down to one, he’ll be easy to spot.”

“Rallies?”

“Yeah. They has ‘em all the time now. Pretty good for moving merchandise through, but them lot over that side don’t like working wiv independents. Mostly it’s a lot of drinkin’ and druggin’ and chantin’ and stuff.”

“Where are these rallies held?”

“I dunno. They’re all over the place, usually somewhere far out the way on the edges of the city.”

“Do you know when the next one will be?” Timmy asked and Tommy gave him a limp shrug in response.

“Well what about this Hunter character, where can we find him?”

“Ermm… ‘E hangs around there, you know, just off Funderson Ave, round the broadway with his little firm.”

“Yeah we know the place.” Timmy nodded, finished scribbling his notes, and then tucked his notepad away. “Thank you Mr Plumb, you’ve been very helpful.”

“Yeah wotever,” Tommy screwed his face up. “Listen, you tell Charlie… well you tell ‘im I was ‘elpful and all that and I don’t appreciate ‘im sendin’ round heavies and-and all that.”

“You really want us to tell ‘im that?” Wally said.

Tommy chewed at his lip for a second and then gave them a yellow rat faced smile.

“Maybe just tell ‘im I was ‘elpful.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wally said, turning on his heels and marching out of the office.

They stormed across the warehouse, their eyes firmly planted on their feet, while the less than convincing sound of two people having unpleasurable intercourse followed behind them. They flew out of the warehouse doors, rounded the corner, and burst out into excited chatter.

“Did you ‘ear that? ‘E called us ‘eavies!” Wally said, his face flushed in excitement. “I ain’t never been called anyfin like that!”

“I know! Did you see the way we took out those goons! You bonked them real good!” Timmy said, imitating Timmy’s wild flailing.

“But you took out that fella with the knife. Proper ‘eroic that was!”

“I couldn’t let him stick my partner, could I?”

“‘Xactly! We’re proper coppers now, Tim. No one’s gonna be making fun of us no more!”

“Now we just have to find this scumbag, Hunter, and bring him in.”

“Yeah, let’s get down to Funderson Ave and do a bit of wotchumacallit…”

“Surveillance?”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s go Corporal Washbottom!”

“Lead the way Corporal Edgewater!”