"If I might ask, what happened?"

Newgrounds City.

The animation and game capital of the world.

To you anyways. To describe it as "like any town" would be grossly incorrect. There was always something going on, some festival, some art showcase, some concert or some cataclysmic event. The city was always alive. You'd lived here all your life and there were still things you were learning about the city, all this time later. It was one of the weirdest cities on earth. The city's history was just as colourful, though not the subject of the discussion.

You were (still are in spirit) a young detective working for the NCPD. It was only a few days ago that you were considered a rising star in the ranks of the department. While more 'green' than the rest, you clearly outshined your colleagues. Compared to them you were head and shoulders better than most of the other cops. At one point you had been worried about making such a big splash but as time went those worries faded.

"You are set to be a boss one day. I feel it." The chief had proclaimed after one particularly noteworthy bust.

You wanted to make a difference in the city. You began taking crimes nobody wanted to tackle and go after criminals nobody cared too. You were hungry, and as cliché as it sounded, stopping crime was the only meal.

Management liked your go-getter-ness and watched closely, lending a hand when needed. In such a short time you had gone from a desk jockey to neighborhood watch to homicide detective to eventually head of your own division. You were aiming for sheriff and maybe, even chief one day.

Corruption, murder, thievery, fraud, you targeted them all. As head of your own division you begun to use its vast power to look into street gangs and drug rings.

After having busted one particular street gang you were given a week off to collect your thoughts. That week, while relaxing was spent drudging up the report for a new group you wanted to tackle.

The Dearest Family.

A family of musicians who had been using their vast industry connections to slowly take over the criminal underworld. Just as long as their careers had existed so had the shady rumours of their deeds.

Though famous musicians they had deep claws in practically every industry you laid your eyes on. While famous, the rumour had always followed them that they were the "traders of souls", that they had illegal business dealings with Hell. Ferrymen was the name you heard them called. Of course, that was the biggest rumour they had.

They had gained an almost legendary status over the years. They were among one of the most powerful groups in the city.

The crimes they had 'allegedly' committed was long, most cases you could find having gone unsolved. It always seemed they were just out of justice's reach. With the resources of the NCPD at your disposal you were going to uncover all of it. Extortion, bribery, fraud, murder, assassinations and more. The list was extensive.

You joked with a colleague that it was easier to find the crimes they hadn't of committed.

Your proposal was immediately met with opposition. The boss was strangely apprehensive to you opening this investigation. Right out of the gate it found roadblocks. The boss made all sorts of excuses as to why you couldn't but you beat them all. You simply had too much evidence of wrongdoings.

A special inquiry was absolutely a must.

And then, after delaying approval as much as he could you were finally given the investigation. That's when things started going south. Suddenly there were all these rules investigating, statues of limitations, ethics complaints against the department and more. Despite the opposition you continued. Members of your squad were replaced, people vanishing.

You just went along with it, not seeing anything wrong with that.

Evidence became misplaced and witnesses either disappeared or decided they had no longer anything to say. You got used to hearing "I saw nothing." over the weeks. You ignored those signs. No backing down. You knew this would be hard. At least you had the PD on your side.

That's when the threats began to pour in. First it was just a few threatening e-mails from random accounts. Then you began to get strange texts warning you to stop. You couldn't figure out where they were coming from, having guessed that one of the witnesses you'd talked to was in on it. Then finally, notes left at your desk and letters at your house. The warning was simple.

Stop. The. Investigation.

You decided against it. You were getting there and you had the evidence. At least the cops were still on your side...right?

You began taking some work home. Just in case. You counted a few times you were followed, unmarked cars tailing your driving, people glancing away as you looked.

You reminded yourself constantly. It was just intimidation. They wouldn't do anything. They couldn't do anything. Despite all that had happened it had only served to make you paranoid. You found yourself second-guessing things and checking your car extensively before driving off.

Someone didn't want this investigation to continue. Then, after just two months of the project you came home to see your front windows smashed in. Someone had thrown bricks through them, a torn note attached to each.

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT."

Predictably, nobody saw anything. That next day you arrived to your office to find it closed off, the chief wanting a word with you. You arrived to find several of your superiors and various "ombudsmen" there.

It was like a court. They made some claim you were stealing from the department, that you h. Also made some bizarre claims about bribery, claiming you had accepted bribes from one of the Family's enemies to investigate and that it was a breach of code.

You argued against the dismissal but it was no use. It was if they were making claims up on the spot against you. Your memory became hazy here, having cast out whatever exact BS reason they had conjured up. It was simple. You went too far and now you paid the price.

But, despite the show of force against you, you could tell in the chief's eyes he was against what was happening. While the 'court' had argued you deserved imprisonment the chief managed to get them down from that result. In the end you were terminated without pay. In a strange way he had become your lawyer.

While in the 'court' you realized something. That the corruption ran deeper than you thought. That whether they were paid off, friends of, threatened by, or what; that they were not acting on their own. You had violated unwritten rules and touched the untouchables.

You knew you were going after the royal dynasty of the criminal underworld. That was a given.

What you didn't know, was that they were steadfastly becoming the royal dynasty of the city.

In the end you were dismissed, or was it forced-resignation? You weren't paying much attention at the point, mind drifting to more important things.

On the ride home you had a lot to think about. What to do now, how best to continue the investigation and how to make them pay. All of them. Your initial thought was that the investigation was just beginning.

Those thoughts were smashed as soon as you stepped out of your car in the driveway. Waiting in the garage was somebody. You didn't get a look but the next thing you knew was something smashed over your head and rendered unconscious.

When you came to you were tied up in some dark room. There standing in the light was none other than the patriarch of the family Daddy Dearest.

Bleary-eyed and possibly drugged you struggled to stay upright. He spoke sternly but arrogantly. Said how you were ruffling too many feathers, didn't know your place and didn't know how this city worked. You had trouble listening, an incessant ringing in your head blocking most of it out.

In the end he commented how the chief was the only reason you were still alive and "the next time you see me, my face will be the last thing you see." Those words stayed with you, echoing clearly through your head. Knocked out again you awoke sometime later sprawled out on your lawn, unbound, coming off some drug trip and sore from a beating. They must have just thrown you onto the driveway as your face was a bit cut up from the pavement, a few drops of blood having been splattered on it. A black eye was present too that you had no recollection of. And there was a large bump on the back of your head.

Reeling from the come down you threw up. However, despite everything it wasn't the worst thing that happened.

You crawled into your house to find it had been burgled. Looking around it was clear the thieves had only taken on the thing. The case files. All of them, backups included. They had torn up the place looking for them but left the rest intact.

Drawers left disheveled, television thrown over but somehow still intact, cutlery thrown to the ground a plates smashed. It was a simple message. This was your fault.

To rub salt in the wound they had also stolen your police-issued handgun. Fortunately you had a backup. And it didn't leave your pocket for the next two days.

Spent from the beating, firing and everything that had gone on you needed some rest. Climbing up stairs to your room was not a possibility. You merely crawled up to the couch and, brushing off some glass shards you lied down on it.

As you rested on the couch only one thing rang in your mind.

They will pay.

All of them.

Justice had faded. You didn't care about an investigation anymore. You wanted revenge now.

Two months of investigating had led to this. The only brightside was that it had all happened on a Friday. You took the weekend to get everything back in order.

You spent the next two days cleaning up and just thinking to yourself what to do next. They would pay; all of them. That you were sure of, having repeated it in your head hundreds of times over the weekend. You had enough money saved that you could coast for a few weeks at least.

Nay, money was the least of your concerns. You were alone with your mind and it listened attentively.

It wasn't like this when you were a kid. Back then the worst things to deal with were the Tankman Wars and the Hominid Invasions. Sure they were violent but not like this. The city had changed. This ran deep. This wasn't some random invader trying to take the city. This was the result of a slow and static cancer, ever-growing.

You shut your phone off, not wanting to converse with anyone. Eventually by order of the chief a few officers showed up for a wellness check. You lied about the burglary and the beating saying you had fallen. They were curious about the investigation, nearly forcing their way in. You allowed them in but assured them you weren't going to touch that Family. You made up and excuse that you were going to take a few weeks off to rest then become a private investigator, "solving domestic disputes or something."

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No doubt they had considered the option you still had backups of the case on your computer but insisted you didn't. That you did everything old-school and always left a paper trail. You leaned into the paranoia that all things digital could be modified. That and, the burglars had also stolen your police-issued laptop. You were a stickler for rules and never had any case files on your personal devices as per their tech policy.

One of the officers cracked a joke about there being no shortage of those which just left you disgusted.

Satisfied with your answer they departed, presumably to tell the 'powers that be' you weren't a threat. You didn't leave the house for a few days after that, occasionally taking a look outside for watchers. Though you spotted a few unmarked vehicles none remained long.

Eventually with some elbow grease you repaired the damage, fixed the windows and door and cleaned up the place. Time flew by. In the meantime you subsisted on a steady diet of hatred and booze. Checking your watch it was Tuesday now. You'd calmed down, having a lot of time to think and a lot of alcohol in your system.

Many things were still unclear at this point. Only one thing lended itself to be true. They would pay. Many times while you were resting or cleaning did a villainous monologue play in your head.

Realizing that you hadn't eaten in a few days you decide to go out. There wasn't anything good in the fridge anyways. You desperately needed a drink too, having drained your liquor collection over the week. You don your brown trench coat and conceal your handgun. You figure the Family would still be watching closely. The unmarked cars had stopped showing up on Monday but there was no telling what they had planned.

You turned on your phone for the first time in days only to find a few missed calls from the chief and a message asking how you were. Despite the fanfare there wasn't a single threatening message waiting. It was over.

You step outside to brisk weather. The trench coat was a good idea as it shielded you from the harsh winds outside. It was early spring but it sure didn't feel like it. There were still piles of snow around and the ground hadn't thawed yet. It felt as if summer was a long time away.

Before even getting in your car you did a quick check. There were no bombs strapped underneath nor any cut brakes. Nothing on the driveway either.

You get in and drive off.

With how many connections the family had you knew a lot of places were off limits. Fortunately, during the investigation you had found one place that was safe. It was not only unaffiliated with the family but outright hostile to them.

Displo's.

You started going there at the start of the investigation. During the investigation the restaurant you used to frequent made some rule that they couldn't serve you anymore. A little digging later you found they were in the pocket of the family. In the end, Displo's was more than happy to accommodate you and take your money.

You found the place through the investigation. The owner, Displo was one of the few people actually willing to cooperate with you. He even took a personal interest in the investigation as well.

When the paranoia first arrived it led you to think he was the one bragging about your case.

It didn't help that you finally had a cooperative witness too. It arose suspicions. Back then you did some digging into Displo and his restaurant, eventually finding the whole place was a front for some tech company called IRIS. Further digging you found nothing on IRIS related to the family except for a few incidents where they may have launched their own attacks on them. Either way, it was safe.

The front also explained why the decor of the place was so random.

You weren't sure exactly why they hated the Family so much but they did nearly crash one of the Daddy's concerts a few months back. Whatever their motives were, it would be safe to dine there. Plus, they served a really good cheeseburger.

The place gave the appearance of a high end restaurant but the prices were affordable.

You stepped in, greeted by a fancy looking establishment.

A purple carpeted floor lined the ground, wooden tables and red-cushioned chairs of all sorts placed atop around the restaurant. There were booths lining the walls with a various arrangement of paintings, sports memorabilia and pictures of the bar. There didn't seem to be any theme going as it looked as if a little of everything was here. The place was also really well lit, in contrast with the often dark and mysterious bars you were familiar with. Just plain bright yellow lights illuminating the establishment.

The bar was on the side taking a considerable amount of space from the restaurant. Presumably there was a kitchen behind there though you couldn't tell. There were a lot of doors around, not clearly marked. Kitchens, private rooms, washrooms, you weren't sure.

From behind the bar stood Displo. He was dressed in typical bartender attire, white dress shirt and black dress pants. He was a slim bartender, towering over the actual bar.

Atop his shoulders in place of a head was a TV screen. It was glowing faintly a TV test pattern on it, showing various colours. Seeing you arrive he immediately waved you over. The colours on his face flickered so slightly seeing the band aids and bruises on your face. He was a robot, or android, or cyborg; he'd explained you the difference one day but you'd forgotten.

There didn't seem to be many waiters tonight. You nodded and make your way to the bar.

Being a Tuesday night the place wasn't that busy. There were a few patrons about, mostly having dinner with friends. There were not many at the bar tonight, you spied only a few other drinkers.

You had quickly learned that most IRIS employees got discounts here so most patrons consisted of them. Displo remarked that a non-IRIS person would be spottable a mile away. It also explained why he noticed your presence so quickly the first time you entered.

Beside the bar was a stage with a small jazz ensemble. Consisting of several crafty characters, none of which were human they played smooth jazz. Despite the relaxed nature of the music they seemed to be into it the way each member nursed their instrument. The music wasn't intrusive. They had an anthro goose singer who singer consisted of making animal calls and cries to the audience. It was strange, but not obtrusive.

Now Playing...

Artist: Robert Baldwin

Song: White Sand

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8439jvOIjWY

You take a seat at the bar, Displo immediately dropping what he was doing and coming to you.

"Rough day?" He asked.

"Yeah, something like that. The usual, please."

"Of course." Displo knelt behind the counter, and put a cup to the spout. "I was wondering where you had been."

"If I may ask, what happened?" Displo questioned.

"Just a minor setback." You said coldly. You weren't that interested in re-discussing what had already occurred.

"I see." Displo placed the drink in front of you. Some kind of light bourbon, foaming at the top. You took a swig, ignoring the burning it causes in your throat.

"Your food will be coming in just a few minutes." Displo spoke. You just nod in response, slowly drinking your poison.

Displo departed going to see how some other customers were doing. You notice him glance back at you strangely. His face shone the same but he cocked his head as if giving a second glance.

He looked away immediately after seeing your glance. You finish up the beer. You didn't intend to stay sober for long tonight, just holding out for the food.

You sighed. Off to your left from the entrance you notice another person take a seat at the bar. It was someone concealed in a blue hoodie and a navy blue scarf covering their face. You could just faintly catch two glowing yellow eyes within it. Whoever they were, they didn't seem to notice your presence. They had a large backpack on too. Likely not from around here. You think. Sitting on the stool they hunched over, trying not to look at anyone directly.

After having been followed constantly the last two months that sight set off warning bells within you. The last thing you needed was to get attacked again.

You look back to Displo who like you has also noticed the person take a seat. He flinches slightly at seeing them and he quickly goes up to them, whispering something at them.

You relax slightly. It seemed whoever that figure was, was an acquaintance of Displo. The whispering gets angrier as Displo apparently wasn't happy said person appeared. He was tensing up, appearing as if he was trying to keep his cool.

It was none of your concern so you tune it out. You begin scrolling through recent messages as you begin to course your actions. You order another beer, finishing it rather quickly.

After a few minutes of mindless scrolling social media feeds you look over to the figure. There was now a glass of water in front of him. At least, you think it's a man. You couldn't tell for sure. He was trying his appear innocuous and was scribbling something on a notepad.

"If it's within my purview tonight, may I ask how the investigation is going?" Displo asked, catching you off guard. He placed a large cheeseburger and potato wedges. A cartoon-ish design of a cat was stamped into the sesame seed covered bun.

The "Cheezburger", a 'signature' dish from Displo's.

You don't look at Displo, instead just muttering. "It's over."

You feel him starring at you worryingly. "Absolutely?"

"No dice. It's done." You let out a large sigh. "The family won."

"That's quite unfortunate. Your wounds are a conciliation prize I presume."

You don't respond, instead taking a large bite of the cheeseburger.

"I'll leave you to it then." Displo says quietly before excusing himself to the back room.

Alone again you think more. Maybe you could just become a PI. Or at least do something for 'justice', auditor, compliance officer, security guard, whatever. That would of course come after you take your revenge. As for what the 'revenge' was, you were stumped. They were untouchable. At some point you had ordered another drink, finishing it sometime after. You felt relaxed and at ease; a far cry to how you felt earlier.

You notice Displo had returned and was re-arranging some bottles on the shelves behind him. He was carefully looking at each glass and how much liquor was left in them.

The jazz band had taken a break and was tuning instruments, drinking some water before the next set. You glance around. Aside from the figure there was nobody here that stood out.

There were a few customers who clearly looked to be IRIS employees. The lab coats they wore were a dead giveaway. It wasn't even that well-hidden that it was a front. You weren't going to complain however, this place was above all, safe.

Having finished your food you order another draft. You make a silent promise when you figure out what to do next to cut out alcohol. You knew you had drunk enough that last few days.

"If I may ask again, your...injuries are from our man in common?" Displo asked what he had been thinking since you told him the investigation ended.

You nod. While you kept it a secret from those wellness officers you felt okay with telling Displo. After all, the 'man in common' was someone Displo had expressed displeasure with before.

"I see. The investigation then, it wasn't your call was it?"

While you'd known Displo for a few months now he always had trouble with what you called "mob-speak" or "speaking without speaking." You were unsure what he meant but guessed anyways.

"Nope."

"...And your...positio-"

"I'm not a cop anymore Displo. It's over."

"Then I will speak candidly. I knew that family has their hands in everything but to hold the police to? I did not foresee this development."

"Uh-huh."

"The family has hands in everything." Displo repeated. "Do you know what your next move will be?" There was a hint of concern in his modulated voice.

"Nope. Could I get another on tap? Something a bit stronger this time?"

"Certainly."

Displo started pouring another drink. With the band having taken a rest you can make out the pouring sound from behind the counter.

"I don't know. What do you think I should do?" You ask Displo. You two shared a common enemy. Maybe he had ideas.

"Hmm. Have you thought of going higher? Federal agents?" He placed the drink down.

"I meant regarding our mutual friend." You respond.

"I-Uh-There's...nothing...I can...legally say regarding that topic." He was trying to find the right words. You got what he meant though. He couldn't mention any 'legal' paths to enact your revenge.

"I think..-hold on a second." Displo paused looking at something behind you. You glance back, seeing a few customers waving him over to pay. You nod back at Displo and he walks off.

You take the drink and started drowning your sorrows out with it. There had to be something you could do; other than just run into the compound guns blazing.

As you pound back your drink you get a notification on your phone. You check it, just a spam e-mail for some mob movie coming out soon.

Satisfied with the break time the jazz band resumes playing, albeit joined by a drummer from the audience. They resume playing smooth jazz, the drummer occasionally overdoing it with the fervor.

"Uh, excuse me?" A high-pitched voice says from behind the counter. It was one of the waiters, dressed in a similar attire to Displo. She was human however. "For you."

She placed a beer down, foam forming around the ring, coaster under the glass.

"I didn't order anything." While you were sufficiently buzzed you at least had your wits about you. You knew you didn't order another drink.

"It's paid for, from the gentlemen over there." She said, pointing to the mysterious figure. He looked down when you glanced over, resuming the scribbling in his notebook.

"Thanks." You say to the waiter and send her off.

While you'd been paying the figure no mind, this act set off warning bells within you. Why you? What did he want? You decide not to drink the beer, it could be poisoned after all. You take it, just for appearances.

You get up and go straight for the figure. He was about the same size as you. He paid you no mind as you sit upon the stool near him.

"Well. What do you want?" You ask.

"Your problem." The figure said. He had a distinct accent you weren't able to place. Eastern European maybe? Either way he sounded gruff. Looking closer his whole attire was rough and weathered. It was definitely well worn. There were flayed edges and a few holes in his dark blue hoodie.

"Is this them?"

He didn't face you when he spoke, instead staring down at the counter, holding a glass of water with a gloved hand. He slid a folded paper along the counter. You take, unfolding it. It was a simple drawing of Daddy Dearest, the so-called Patriarch of the family.

"That's him."

"I figured." He took a drink of the water. You could just barely make out some sort of detail on his face. He didn't look human. He spoke monotone, voice quiet just above a whisper.

"You're a cop?" He asked.

"Was a cop. Detective officially."

"Hrmm."

"Well. What?" You ask.

"I want to know. What happened? Tell me." He said after some thinking.

The next track will be called Goat-Headed Man.

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Displo.

image [https://i.imgur.com/937AZb3.png]