“Alright people, what are we doing here? '' said an especially androgynous Elf.
They approached the crime scene in a green tuxedo,long blond hair that trailed their entrance still dragging itself inside the building. A very wordy sign in the “ancient Elf club VIP only Elf tier list ranking the population from best to the least desirable among us requiring ridicule choice awards”.
This deceleration in a newly debuting fancy typeface hung half ripped down. A crystal disco ball was spliced apart by what looked like claws, and the glass covered the carpets in danger of cutting. The only beings remaining was a staff who had been rattled and detained by Head executive Elves via their human police. Trash further increased farther into the club's seedy underbelly. The floor became moist with the thick brown liquor of "fancy schlock" leaking from overturned kegs, and mixing with puddles of puke from over indulgence. The smell of excess wafted with thin layers of smoke and the buzz of stink flies. All those who had found themselves nabbed here tonight had previously been in high spirits.
“The gorgeous Salinnn was kidnapped out of the salon, I know it, not the kitchen, they would never set foot into a workplace environment, it doesn't make any sense” rambled the waiter, frantically running to the door.
A tray equipped to serve in case the approaching Elf was a schlocko-maniac. The investigator frowned deeply at the sweating wreck approaching. Humans would not offend this Elf, but the implication that culinary and cosmetology were not both fine arts was something worthy of an extended jailing.
“Oh thank the Currency, it’s the famous Them Investigative Brains,” said an approaching human acting as an Elf cop.
The star badge confidently read "Head of security Gram" in golden executive print but his shaky rendition of the green salute was anything but class,
Almost tumbling, the man rose to correct his posture with a foolish smile. Their eyes met before he was looking at the floor extending hands to the elf equally shaking.
“You can call me T.I.B. for short,” said the Elden Elf Investigator, performing a perfectly green salute in a matching suit from a distance to avoid germs.
“Just keep practicing there, I've been training in the dance arts for 500 years so of course I'm better than you," said T.I.B. who had long hidden both hands somewhere inside their clothing to avoid contact.
"Yes.. just no mind-control tricks on my brains," pleaded Gram, adjusting his ill-fitting khakis around a lanky figure.
"Do not fear Gram for you have nothing inside there for me to control," replied T.I.B. in monotone.
Elf society did not permit the getting of hands dirty. Being caught performing manual labor would get you exiled at the best of times. The only thing thought ought to ever handle with their hands is the making of art, and blackmail. Their wars were waged without any of their precious blood spilling except the target doing self termination, and achieved at any cost. Their crystals, and precious metals were mixed by factories of mind-enslaved alchemists fueling their powers. The ill effects of handling the chemicals passed to leprechauns, and whatever they hadn't finished destroying the dwarf population while they got to reap the benefits.
Elf achieved dominance in a contest of pure executive functioning with help of their supplement mind cultivation pills. They had evolved to be better than the creatures who died for them, and only attacked with mind manipulation, magic, and reputation destroying smear campaigns. Their promised lands of paradise for corporate interest had “C.E.O.” in cursive stamped on everything under the suns. It was their capital where Crony Elves Owned.
For those lower on the totem pole it was a very tricky business sticking to the ruthless morals in the religion of business. It was lucky that T.I.B.'s job was very fruitful as top Elf Investigator. However the red tape burden of being stuck with thinking of solutions to get around a strict, and rigid culture was often overwhelming.
"Okay can you catch me up to speed"? asked the only remaining Elf on the scene..
"Yeah no problem, and the name is Lester," said a burly stage hand rubbing the tired bags underneath his eyes. "So it all started last night at the big award ceremony" he began..
The crystal lights and chandeliers set to stun, the elf dancers, prancers, house musicians had begun their routine. You know they trained for this night full time for at minimum a millennium. The opening poem by Simy was excellent, flowing with art,"
"Cut to the chase" said T.I.B., changing shades to lighter U.V.
"Oh right a band of human guests had started everything off on the wrong foot. The singer was late to the stage, that infant ruined everything when he dodged" stammered Lester, sweating profusely.
“Wow, It's so typical of humanity to let us down, It was doomed to fail from the start"so I am putting the band as the primary suspects so far” said T.I.B. in response.
“Yes the snark is warranted with a front-man of the band D.D.P. Edward Longbottom a madman that tarnishes the image of us good humans who serve you" said Lester bowing his head.
T.I.B. rested their chiseled chin on their hand in a deep thinking pose. "Hmmm I wonder?".
"And he had political reasons to sabotage the show,” Lester chimed in excitedly.
“Huuh? uh indeed, that's exactly the culprit without a doubt. Maybe I generalize you all a bit too much. Obviously Elves are vastly superior in everything we set our minds to, but I think we underestimate that humans have motivations only other humans can compute,” said T.I.B.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Right so anyway the rest of the band came out on stage without a singer, dreadful sight, and embarrassing. They quickly got booed away for their primitive unskilled playing. It was really just an awful display of the same repeated three chords into a wall of noise not the superior lush sound only elves can produce,” finished Lester, leaning up against a potion fountain as he slowly backed into a corner, accidentally hitting a lever, and spraying drink all over the rear of his uniform.
“Continue, come on,” said T.I.B. lightly tap dancing impatient on two bare feet.
The man let off feral noises of frustration as he removed his soaked overcoat. He hung it over the closed lid of a nearby trash bin to dry, before deeply sighing.
"After the band played, the first award of the night was given," Lester began...
Inside the theater sparkled as confetti rained down on everything, then smoke poured out from somewhere before sparks erupted out of holes in the stage. The dancing Elves descended from the roof by climbing down the walls, and they jumped the final distance with acrobatics. The orchestra gave them direction with a classic piece I believe "Symphony 11111, or maybe 1333, no 1334.5". Anyway the dancers began to twirl faster than my lower comprehending human eyes could catch, while my ordinary, and crude vocabulary could not hope to fully describe the sets' stunning art.
"No I don't want a drink..waiter can't you see we are busy, huh your brain gone full fool or what!" T.I.B. interrupted smacking a stray waiter away from their personal space.
They were having enough of the bartender trying to silently solicit attention from solving another case. It could be connected to all the recent strange occurrences going on in their life. They truly had the sixth sense they were being followed down the street for weeks. It had to be another Elf playing mind games to knock them down a position on the tier list.
" It's a direct call to you from the hive, not a drink I was after your attention for," said the trembling, and beaten waiter.
"Ah shit I'm sorry. Where can this call be received?" said T.I.B. instantly changing tone of voice to something sweet.
"In the study," sobbed the waiter, wallowing disheveled on the checkered floor.
"Right I'll see if you get a small raise here's my card" said T.I.B tossing the card on the discarded witness. "Now to the study above the stage come with me, cop," instructed the investigator leading the charge.
The way to the study was marked by a sign backstage to a curved staircase. The small and cramped advance was accompanied by loud creaking steps leading to metal scaffolding where many stagehands had worked. The air was musty, and plaster peeled in other areas revealing purple mold.
"Huff Puff.. I would guess the study is across this rigging chief" said Gram after reaching the top step, he was taking a lot of deep breaths.
"I'll call you over when I need you" said T.I.B. strutting across the rigging above the stage.
Beside them ugly ropes and sandbags, while below is beautiful background art. The most aesthetically pleasing Elves from society had been painted by the highest ranked painters.
"I will get them back safe and sound, for the other Elves depend on my knowledge of crime that is why Head Elf is speaking to me," T.I.B said, bracing against opening the door for a breather.
The study was crammed to the roof with books, cases for them, and a desk with a large ringing crystal ball. The Elf ran to it, activating the call.
The call remained silent for a second.
"Boss, rest assured I've already narrowed the suspects down to a very narrow band," T.I.B. blurted out, before they could cover their own mouth.
"No worries, No worries there has been a change of plans. I have a more important case that you now work at this instant. I've gotten word that King Edward's mother was also kidnapped, and that an army is marching here to ransack the place. According to our estimates you have a sixty six minute deadline to solve this case, and then wait outside the city gates to speak with Edward and give him a personally delivered update of her whereabouts. Goodluck." said Hive-mind, hanging up.
Outside in the distance, but reflected in the pyramids incoming clouds of dust. The winds of war stirred up by an army approaching; matter of fact it was amplified, and electric. The drums began to beat hard on the first and fourth beat as more joined in, and guitars began to screech. Column after column of soldiers marched in uniform as far as the eye could see. A big rig truck flew past thousands modified with a flatbed fitting a five peace band. The cowbells started with royal rock N roll crews amping the troops with the drug of music.
Inside the thick walls surrounding the capital Elf city everyone covered their ears and ran indoors from the offensive sonic attack commencing. Edward dragged his hook across the strings with reckless abandon causing his two chords to destroy. The troops got louder and louder as they began to chant gang vocals drowning the valley in reverb.
"Cold nights, and colder Knights, I played your games, and you took me for a ride, now we get even," he sang as the band roared alive.
The soldiers cheered, raising thousands of fists, and increasing the march to war. Trees toppled nearby hit with the first arriving armor.
"Con man, con Elf, con our empire, dodge the guillotine ugh" Edward raged while his and the bands playing increased to a fever pitch.
The sky suddenly became red dotted with thrown fireballs from the treeline. The slow projectiles plotted a slow whistling course of death. Long before impact the hidden artillery in the treeline had reloaded. The targets were engulfed in fiery explosions one after another. A lesser pyramid was hit on the tip, bursting Magma across the surface and burning through the front. The battle paused. The sound is cut off with a motion of the leader’s hook. He began to speak over the Terp Terp amps that still shook with sound waves.
"Give us back the Queen or we will destroy everything finding her ourselves. No negotiations for this act of war by the Elves, I speak in pure power, and the hook doesn’t take bribes. You are surrounded by our professional fighting force that takes none alive!". he yelled while slashing all about for extra show.
The troops cheered signaling their professional enthusiasm for slaughter.
"You have until sundown to give her back, then my hook starts to slash with the rest of the boys, and we turn your streets red with a decapitated body art exhibit," said the self declared Emperor jumping from his royal trailer.
He approached the general's tent with the rest of the band, lifting the flap. Inside a table with maps, apples, a corked bottle of jungle juice, and the battle plans for conquering the entire planet by springtime. Cap joined him inside, reaching into a cupboard. He pulled out a pickle jar, and the boys began to feast.
"Hmmm there will be plenty more fingers to pickle coming up" said Roger drinking some of the juice.
"Hey that's my juice brother,”..
Roger dodged the incoming hook by diving out the tents flaps. By running away he had successfully avoided tomorrow's battle plans with his own appetite for childish schemes.