How to get to sesame street: a post Apocalyptic Noir

One, Ah Ah Ah

I went into the agency at age 16. I was raised in an orphanage, much like the other kids in the inner city, I never knew my parents. All of my life, I had dealt with murderers, unorganized crooks trying to make their way in the world. For thirty long years, I've been trying to put those scum behind bars, but the business has taken its toll on me. I am not the youthful detective I once was. My white trench coat I wore was now covered in patches, it was caked with mud on the bottom, but i've grown attached to the raggedy thing, along with my battered tan fedora. My long unkempt black hair had started greying, my face had been getting more saggy with each year passed.

I tell you, Being a detective in the heart of sesame militia occupied New York, means you got to see a lot of bodies. And to know who the culprit is, you need only look to your nearest police station. We all know that the militia was bought out by the mob, but you can't pick and choose your government when you live in the last populated city in this hemisphere, whatever a hemisphere is. No one bats an eye when the baker across the street gets gunned down for not offering protection money. No one intervenes when one of the dons boys kills a man for lookin' at him the wrong way in broad daylight. The mob has been quiet for a few years, but that dont mean they aint still pulling the strings around this town.

I had gotten word from the higher ups to investigate a murder case downtown, in the slums. I had expected it was another dry cut murder, one orchestrated by the mob. In such a case, I would have to file that the murderer got away, no evidence to file a further investigation, or else one of the dons boys might pay me a visit in the shanty I call my house. But this case, this case was different.

When I arrived on scene, there was a militiaman leaning in the alley, smoking a cigar.

"Well well. If it ain't the infamous Nicky Leitmann coming to bring the purps who hit this schmuck to justice."

He said as I approached.

"We both know that isnt how that works, friend, now get outta here, I gotta concentrate, write his obituary would ya."

I spat back at him

"O ho nicky, I don't think you understand whats going' on here."

He got up to my face, and put his cigar out on my coat. Just another friendly peacekeeper welcome.

"Take a closer look at the body, this is a REAL problem."

He got out of my face, and gestured towards the body. I looked closer. His blue fur was a dead giveaway that wasn't just a normal murder, but the chain on his neck meant that this was a deadly situation. The pendant was a circle, dotted with chips, the crest of the most prominent family in New york.

This was the dons kid.

I sighed, and looked at the goon,

"Some heads are gonna roll for this, i'm guessing that your boys have the block quarantined by now, and you want me goin' door to door looking for the culprit, huh"

I reached for a smoke in my coat pocket, I knew it would be a long night.

"Not quite, We already know who did it. look at this note, it was left on the body."

I unfolded the paper, it read,

"One, one snitch silenced,

Ah ah ah"

I knew what this meant. This was an active proclamation to the Cookie Monster, that the count will no longer sit back in his castle in sesame street, he had his son hit, this could only mean one thing:

Our fair city is going to war with itself.

"You have a lot of work on your shoulders, Nicky. The Don himself has appointed you to bring the Count and his band of cutthroats to justice."

I sighed, as I took a drag off my cigarette.

"I've told you lot already, I don't work for the mob, im a detective. The agency ain't going to involve itself in a gang war. You mutants can find the Count yourself, my job here is over."

I began to walk to my car, when I heard a gun cock behind me.

"They're all dead, Nicky. The Don called a hit on them the second you left uptown. He thought they were in charge of this, but we didn't find any incriminating evidence on you. So welcome to the payroll. Refuse, and the Don will blacklist your name across the city."

He finished with a devilish smirk. I laughed,

"I'd hoped that I would be in my twilight years before I turned dirty, but I can't say i'm too sad about it."

I finished, pulling out another pack of cigarettes from my coat pocket, I have somewhat of an addiction you could say. He laughed, and pointed to his beat up cruiser.

"Come on, the Don is waitin' for you, hes already got a suspect lined up for 'questioning' downtown; it would be in your best interest not to keep him waiting."

...

We stopped by a shed by a pier downtown, it wasn't big enough to fit one of those blue freaks inside, let alone have an 'investigation,' but we can't all pick and choose the working conditions we put ourselves through.

When we walked in, we were treated to a dim light hanging from the ceiling, and a man with purple skin in the center, bound to a chair, with tape covering his mouth. He had long cuts and bruise marks all over his face, looked like they were desperate to make the poor man crack.

"Its awful dangerous downtown, one of the counts boys is prone to get hurt around these parts. why did you risk coming all the way from sesame street to pay us a visit?" I asked him, as I ripped the tape from his lips.

"Nothing you should concern yourself with, freak. What did they threaten you with to work with that Monster? Guess it must have been big" he said with a grin."

"Look, friend, i'm here for questioning, but i'm on your side, it's my friend you gotta worry about here," I gestured toward the militiaman, who then hit him in the back of the head with his gun.

"Now, tell what I want to know, and my partner here won't decorate the wall with your blood.

How do I get to Sesame Street?"