ROCKETEER

Chapter 1: Changes

"Walking gets too boring when you learn how to fly." - Shakira

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God, I hate reporters.

They swarmed me, right after stepping outside Best Jeanist's apartment.

So much for thinking in peace.

"Miss Moonshine, have you found any evidence to who the culprit could be?"

Yeah, up your-

"Was there any sign of a struggle? Was Best Jeanist taken forcefully?"

No, but your ability to speak is fixin-

"Do you know if Jeanist is still alive? Or was he murdered?"

I. Don't. Fucking. Know.

"Information regarding this case is being kept confidential to the public, until something is professionally confirmed. Sorry, guys." I said, my voice monotone. The huddled group of reporters groaned in unison, giving me dirty looks before quickly dispersing to twist another tale of misfortune elsewhere in the city.

Not that Best Jeanist's disappearance wasn't misfortunate. But the media didn't need to blow the story into something it's not.

Also, I should mention that I wasn't supposed to be the detective on this case, but my boss, Gang Orca, decided that this... predicament, would be the best debut for my hero name.

Which, by the way, is absolutely ridiculous.

MOONSHINE, HERE TO SAVE THE DAY. Tch, sounds like a hillbilly alcoholic fixing a problem with duct tape. I used to love it, even came up with it myself when I was young. Now it's just a pretty name for a pretty hero. 

Anyway, back to the Best Jeanist thing.

Yeah, someone took him. Or he ran away, which is highly unlikely, since he was fixing to come back into the hero world after recovering from the injuries of his last villain encounter. Or he's just taking an unexpected vacation, which is also unlikely, since none of his cards have been used in the past three days.

Nope, somebody got the jump on him. And apparently it's my job to find out who.

As I made my way to Gang Orca's agency, I pondered possible suspects of the attack. There hadn't been much evidence. No signs of a struggle, no blood, no indentations on the walls or ceilings suggesting a weapon. The doors and windows were even locked from the inside.

However, there had been evidence that someone had been there, recently. There was a half-empty glass of green tea on the coffee table, the bed wasn't made (which was unusual for Jeanist), and the couch had been moved from its anchored spot to the floor with sticky mats.

It was very peculiar, indeed. Which, of course, is my favorite type of problem. Which is also why I was chosen to lead this case. Good times.

Anyways, back to the story, the real story.

I sledged my way through the muddy and icy streets of Fukuoka, back to the police station to give my report of my first sweep of the crime scene. To turn in a mostly blank report, and go home to make my own notes on what I found.

I reflected on the scene, and what my superiors will say when I turn in a blank report. They'll reprimand me, demand I to return to the crime scene and investigate further. They'll give me a time frame, probably two weeks, to find some kind of lead, before they turn the case over to someone else. Two weeks to make my mark on the hero world; two weeks to make my name known.