Topic: Continue the story... (Read 2438 times)

LOL, i guess we need someone to save him.

Almost, but I think our hero got banned again.

Is there a Part 2 for this?

Then, a shadowy figure from behind appears, and says























































































or is it?         

Theymos smiled and, to himself said, "All is now well."

The End!

Bumping for the end of the story.

Suddenly, Theymos, entered the room.

"What are you two guys doing here?" he demanded.

Before they could answer, they were both banned from the room for 3 days.

With tears in their eyes, they left, but not before replacing the dead albino rat with a Cosby Coin.

Continue the story...

That is util Ken, the constable, referred to page 69 of his mental manual of what to really do in a situation like this.

Ken pulled out a stick of pink chalk from his left alpaca sock and wrote the following on the cement floor next to the dead albino rat: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzuGB9h26Go

A crow, that looked liked a raven, perched on a makeshift clothesline, cawed. A caw, one would swear sounded like WTF.



Continue the story...

They open the door,

get on the floor,

and everyone walks the dinosaur

Continue the story...

I'm dyin' to see what happened when they went inside. Help a fellow bitcoiner out, please!

Continue the story...

"Ken. When we're done with this case, why don't you and I take a vacation? I'm thinking Pattaya."

They go inside.

Continue the story...

The constable was sleeping on a public toilet with his head rested against his lap until a call received on his infolink awakened him. Abruptly he came to his senses and placed his index against his forehead.

"What is it, Jeff?"

I am outside the service station when you're ready. Also, I got your Americano... 5 shots of espresso, like you asked.

"Heh, thanks. Look, you know how my schedule is. I'll wake up when my timer is ready, you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, toilet-sleeper."

The Constable exited the sterile service station: A 7-11 from the late 10's exhibiting its age with a complex insignia and colorful branding. Most franchises opted for simpler branding but this dirty part of town had little regard for such things. As The Constable headed down the wet sidewalk to his partner's late-model police vehicle, he picked up a news tablet from the near-by kiosk. Across its colorful digital display read:

"JAN WESKER, 24 DEAD IN LATEST ASSASSINATION"

An image of her blood-ridden and tattered corpse was blurred in below along with the images of the serial convicts. Newspapers stopped being tactful after a culture-shock of regulatory-free media based on internet content.

"Well, Jeff, it looks like we made the papers. The Constable cleared his throat and announced:

"TOP INVESTIGATOR, KEN COURTRIGHT, HEAD CONSTABLE OF THE ISSP, REGION 27 HAS ACCEPTED JURISDICTION OF THE LATEST ASSASSINATION MADE BY 'THE BLOODBATH ORGY GROUP'..."

"Yeah, yeah, I don't know if it's worth it, Ken. The bounty on this thing is only 500,000 Globals. Hardly real money in the first place but whatever. So, how about them hipsters?"

"Yep but put us into first altitude. If what you're saying is true, this place is worse than the last one"

The vehicle began to enter 100 or so feet into the air above the service station and headed towards a large cloud of pollution: New Detroit, 5th street. After passing abandoned tower after abandoned tower they had finally reached their destination. They landed on the rooftop of the most tasteful parking garage they could find. The cockpit of the late-model vehicle rised open and they jumped out. Lex walked towards the north edge of the building. He pointed down below.

"That's the place, Ken. Purgatory Alley."

"Goddamn, it smells like shit. Where the hell are we?"

"I told you where we are going, Ken. We're dealing with hipsters here. Cannibals"

Ken, the Constable, took a closer look at the building and saw rotting corpses hanging on both sides.

"Don't tell me we are going in that place... and those are -- human bodies?"

"Nah, grown vats of human meat. We're at a growing house. Urban farming at its worst."

"Goddamn hipsters, let's go inside and find who bought that butt."

"..."

The crime investigator (aptly named, since he investigates crimes) unremorsefully continued,

"...heh. Heh heh heh..."

The Constable (aptly named because he was a con and hilariously unstable [get it? CONStable?]), extracted value from his right breast pocket and loudly stated:

"I hate women. I'm off to nap on a toilet."

"It seems our perp has a thing for augmentations. Butt augmentations and their real counterparts too." the Constable said as he began to chuckle.

"So, tell me, isn't it true our victim -- Jan -- was found with her butt removed?"

The crime investigator turned from the dirty window.

"Yes, likely sold to the hipsters on 5th street. There's a cannibalist cult on the third block. They usually get their product through legal means in light of recent legalization of human cell farming; however, sometimes they tend to like the real thing... Artificially grown human flesh just doesn't have the same flavor it seems."

"Heh, one thing is for sure, our perp has quite a fetish for butts and blood..."

The Constable scratched his throat and sighed.

"Trace these transactions to the merchants. Also, make sure you have your backup gun ready. We have some cannibalistic hipsters to talk to on 5th street."

"So you think he's involved with some black market activities do ya?"

"For sure, bitcoins are only useful for buying smuggled goods or..." Said Jeff staring out the window

"What is it?"

"Quick, turn on his computer- there might be some... some.. just turn it on"

the screen lights up, the computer emitting a low hum

"Could.. it be..?" they both say at the same time, as a spreadsheet of over 500 purchases of butts appears on screen

...said the rookie officer Dib.

Jeff and the Constable scowled at the short and fat man. He obviously stood in his mid-20s but had the poorly-shaven shadow and balding hair of a middle-aged man. His crooked smile, sunken-eyed stare along with his smug face held high likened him to a child of downs-syndrome.

"Dib, how about you help yourself to some of the donuts outside. We got some custard ones for ya."

"Sure thing, Constable. Hur."

He stumbled out with his hands help up to his chest...

"So, what's this symbol stand for besides being a magnet for idiots?" asked the constable with a perplexed smirk.

"It stands for Bitcoin, an early cryptocurrency started by a niche libertarian crowd back in the early 2010's. An interesting bunch. The currency is holding a value in mid-$3600 now per unit. It's standard affair in black market circles."

"So what do we with it? What can it tell us?"

IT STOOD FOR BUTTS LOL HE SOLD BUTTS AND THAT WAS HIS BUTTS CREDIT CARD, TO BUY BUTTS,
continue the story

"What's the story here, Jeff?"

"A not-so-typical sadistic homicide. The perp was pleasuring himself as his hired group of assassins ruptured the victim's colon and caused severe hemorrhaging through grotesque sexual battery. The DNA isn't hitting anything on the database for the main perp but the assassins are typical nobodies; escaped convicts, untraceable except for the trail of DNA and disease they have left through various and morbid cases of rape and murder. This seems to be their most notable case so far. I can imagine they were paid a good sum as they were in previous stunts."

"What are the details of the room?"

"It has been leased for years under a pseudonym of John Doe. No personal belongings. The place is surprisingly clean."

"However, we did find this constable..."

The crime scene investigator reached for a brown bag and pulled out a plastic card. On it laid the symbol ฿...

was it this guy?

And then the door was shut and locked and a tinny voice was heard from the other side

"CLOSED DUE TO LACK OF INTEREST!"