Noire: Detective of L.A.

Noire: Detective of L.A. Part 3

Noire: Detective of L.A.

Chapter 1: Upon Reflection, Part 3

Noire walked up to the apartment building. "His mailbox says he lives in Apartment #2." said Noire. He jogged up the steps and knocked on the door. The door opened and a gruff-looking man appeared. "What the hell do you guys want?" he snapped.

"Mr. Burkhart, I'm Officer Noire, this is Officer Beckowski, Willshire Division. Are you the owner of a Model 27, nickel-plated with pearl grips?"

"I might be." he sneered. "What of it?"

"Then you'll be surprised to know that Scooter Peyton was murdered tonight, with your gun."

"You're out of your mind. Scooter? He works for me. I have that gun my drawer."

Burkhart stepped away the door, towards his drawer. He opened it, only to show that the gun was missing.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Burkhart spat.

Noire moved forward, "You're under arrest, Burkhart! Cuff him Mike."

"No way!" shouted Burkhart. "You're not taking me down for this!"

He swung around, punching Beckowski square in the jaw. Beckowski hit the floor, stunned. Noire threw a right hook, followed by an uppercut, knocking Burkhart to the ground. Noire started to handcuff Burkhart.

"Hey Mike, you alright?"

"I'm fine, hardly felt it. He's lucky he caught me off guard."

"Alright. Keep an eye on him, Mike. I'm gonna take a look around."

Noire walked up to the drawer and spotted a small notebook. "What's this?..." he wondered. Opening the book, he found a series of numbers and names. "Hey, Floyd Rose's name is in this book..."

"Noire, we can walk out of this all bright and shiny with a commendation, or stick our schlongs in a hornet's nest. Call it in, partner, and leave the notebook where you found it."

"Alright Mike..."

The train stations was full of young men. Noire walked around, feeling lost. He was looking for the bus that would take him to OCS for the war. He walked up to a sergeant to ask for help, when the man turned around and snarled, "You dumb fucking sons of bitches! Get in this line before I lose my temper!"

"Excuse me, Sergeant but-"

" 'Excuse me?' Fuck you! You say another word, I will break your head open and throw you in the brig!" the sergeant shouted.

Another young man walked up, "Sergeant, some of us are here for-"

"I know why you're here, asswipe! I'm having a bad day, Private." said the sergeant, his voice growing menacingly low. "Some people don't seem to want to get on this bus.

"I didn't ask for your help." said Noire.

"He didn't ask for your help. Can you believe this guy? Who are you two? Abbot and Costello?!"

Another guy walked up, "We're for OCS, Sergeant."

"So it's the Three fucking Stooges, and you're here for OCS. God help this fucking country and the USMC. The Japanese will do the world a favor and kill you three quickly. All three of you are on report. What are your fucking names?"

"Kelso."

"Noire."

"Maryl."

The sergeant turned around. "Any other 'gentlemen' for OCS?" No one else replied.

"OCS is at Elliot. You take the Camp Elliot bus over there. This bus is for MCRD. This bus is for men who want to fight."