1948: Street Stories (Kidd Grimes Side A)

Kidd Grimes (Side A)

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The rose tinted lenses of yesterday seemed to blind a lot of people.  The unfamiliar mixing with the familiar, people coming to terms with the state of the world, and so on.  It ain't a great look.  Even a Detective died the other day, severing the Peace Treaty with all the separate factions.  No one really understands why Detective Morris got involved with the Lenzo's, investigating them nonetheless.  Who could have seen it?  Well, I certainly did.  Names Kidd Grimes, age 19, Sleuther if you will.  I investigate stories like this all the time, especially when they're paying quite the price.  Though, it ain't just for anyone.  Hard life to live when you're constantly looking over your shoulder.  But, dems' the breaks.

Over the past few weeks things have only escalated, mainly with the Doppies going around busying as many Mobsters as they can.  Because of that it made people act like fools, going around killin' each other.  Can't tell ya' how many crime scenes I stumbled upon by mistake.  Like a damn beast ran through and tore people apart.  Last one I couldn't even get the story, it was too gruesome.  Too messy for the papers.  Not like people wanna see the darker side of Domino.  But, I guess that's all you see these days.

Nothin' but a broken city beyond repair.  Yet every year it gets bigger, and the technology continues to transform.  Oh, speaking of, I'm what people call "Soft Skinned" meaning I don't use mods or attachments of any kind.  I'm still 100% flesh and bone, no metal.  My boss has been asking me to upgrade my body for a while now, but I honestly can't.  Promised my father before he died that I would always stay true to myself.  Even if I get left in the dust I'll always find a way to catch up!  That's just the kind of guy I've always been.  Especially one of conviction.

Anyway, it was Friday morning 10:59 a.m. on July 15th, damn near the hottest day of the year.  At least so far.  I was sitting at my desk, checking through random stories and notes.  I had to drop my last case, so I needed something.  Boss would have my ass by Monday if I didn't find anything good.  That was a Sleuthers numba' one commitment above all else: Always have a good story to tell.  At least that was our motto' down at the News Busy Newspaper building.  We all started as some wide eyed little kids with dreams bigger than life itself, yet sometimes life grabs you by the ankles.  We can't always get what we want.  Especially me.

"Kidd!  I ain't see no notes or nothin'!  You got a report?!" Yelled a guy from nearby.  Name was "Mikey Downstreet", but most of us just called him Mike.  He was our editor and handyman, and knew how to fix half the machines in there.  

Guy was an absolute legend in the industry, but lost it all due to a story he wrote in the paper.  I think it was the government stepping in to push him off the trail, but nobody really knows.  

"Yeah, yeah, I'm lookin' through my notes!  Had to drop my last case.  No gold to be dug there.  You got anything good?" I yelled back at Mike, trying to sniff out his plunder.  Though, not every dog is so easy to roll over.  You gotta finagle someone, tempt them if you will.  "Good?  Psh, c'mon I ain't no fuckin' Sleuther.  I got pages to edit, man.  PAGES.  You see all this shit?  Like a mountain I gotta climb."  He references over to the stack of papers next to him on the desk, piling like an actual mountain.  

Curious how that slick Rick does all that balancing, maybe it's a family thing?  "Aww Mikey, you gotta have something!  I'm beggin' ya, man!  I know them corner tricks give you leads from time to time…" Hearing my words, Mike couldn't help but lunge forward, grabbing me by my collar.  Fucker has extended arms with iron tipped metal fingers, man could grab a small cat out of a tree like it was nothing.

"Shut the hell up, ya little shit…!  Why should I even bother with a shrimp like you…?  I got paperwork to do, ya know.”  

I could only give him my genuine smirk, trying to gauge his quick responses.  Maybe there was somethin’ to be pulled at.  Somethin’ good maybe…  “Gotta’ float in the big ol’ sea.  Sometimes other fish need help from other fish.  We a school, you and I.”  Mike could only sigh in response, rubbing his face against his ink stained hands.