The Flare Misque Case (a wicked cool birdie mystery)
Super Important Glossary & Lore:
The World:
Eagla is a little town in the country Pennyland, on the planet Bird(b)lantis. Birds are the dominant species, they are the intelligent species instead of humans, though they are not very smart. Additionally, Pennyland and the rest of the world is filled with fantastical oddities like alleged aliens on the moon, cartoonish villains, and. . . lemon powered internet? Even so, most birds live in any other joe schmoe neighborhood in any other average town.
Note that Birdlantis is like 15-ish years behind compared to earth in terms of time period and technological advancement. (ex: 2013 roughly = 1998)
Important Terms:
Beanbird: the bug/bird hybrid fellas that live alongside birds as equals. They are rather reserved but have highly sensitive senses.
Penny/Pennylander: from Pennyland
Artia: Pennyland before the mass extinction that killed off most other species HOLY COW!
Pennish: of Pennish or Artieach descent
Remember that some crap in this will make no sense just go with it. I do not edit for the most part. :Sad crying baby reaction image:
Case Document: 21E,
Alt name: “The Flare Misque Case”
Date opened: January 8th, 2013,
Dated closed: April 19th, 2013
Detective: Pepsi Kola
Editor: Penny Quailbrush
This document has been edited to be readable for “normal” people, whatever that means.
“Author’s” note:
mind you, “scomble” means small piece or small area of space in this text. Not the other thing. God forbid I make up a word that turns out to be some actual obscure slang that means something weird. First “dingleberry” now this??? Let me make up words in peace!!
PS some of these job roles may seem unfamiliar to you. Bear with me, reader.
PPS sorry for any spelling or grammar errors or tense changes. I DO NOT EDIT MUCH because I’m lazy haha.
The Flare Misque Case
It was a dreadfully foggy morning at Eagla Labs. The leftover draft from the recent snowstorms crawled the streets. Some say that the perfect temperature for analyzing beanbird DNA samples is below 60F (Fa-wren-heit). I don’t know who said that but assistant data scribe and analyst Redgie Snake seemed to disagree. He stumbled over to the breakroom, teeth chattering as he walked. He was so tired from the previous day and it was completely obvious. He had sunken, black hole eye bags, a rumpled tie, and a distinct shiver placed halfway up his spine. Make no mistake, he’d never let himself get like this normally, it’s just those samples. Those bean samples…
They were extracted from a secretary working for Atlas Industries, a global shipping service. Ever since a few days ago they had been acting weird. They’d been saying things like “Get your goat up brosaurus” and “hold your horses”, nobody knows what any of that means. I don’t even know what a “horse” is!
Most just dismissed it as a fever at first and sent them home for a few days. But then the secretary’s family called. They said that they found the beanbird crawling up their bedroom walls and screeching. They had a crazed, glassy eyed stare that is hard to describe. It also seemed their pupils dilated to an unnatural extent, it’s quite nauseating to look at. They didn’t know if it was an illness or gas leak or something. They even considered that their dear child had been possessed! This was no ordinary cold. After a trip to the doctor’s, they were unable to identify what was causing the secretary to act in this way. Drool DNA samples were immediately sent to Eagla Labs for analysis. The scientists had worked their butts off to find something resembling a reason for this madness ever since.
But still, Snake groggily shoved the break room door out of the way and made his way over to the stagnant coffee pot. Snake’s eyes widened.
“SPIDER!!”
Snake squawked noisily before realizing it was just a conveniently placed watermelon. “Oh dear, looks like someone left their fruit on the table. How strange.” The assistant brushed it off, simply moving the unripe fruit out of the coffee pot. The thing nearly rolled off the edge of the counter, leaving a mere scomble of space before it stopped. It looked almost as if it was trying to reach the counter edge, begging for one more push. It looked at the assistant with sad eyes… what? Metaphor? No, I was talking about the watermelon. It’s very important to this case. Multiple other employees reported instances of finding fruits planted across the facility in strange places after that. The same afternoon, head sample handler Penny Flamethrower caught a glimpse of a moving grey figure speeding across the east hall. Flamethrower quietly followed the suspicious bird and witnessed the placing of a strawberry in a supply closet. The handler recalls that she poked her head into the doorway of said closet, saw the intruder’s back facing her as they put a strawberry up on a shelf. She also recalls the intruder having metallic white tail feathers poking out from behind. Though it might have just been a trick of the light. Flamethrower tried to inquire about this bird’s strange behavior. “I’m sorry but… do you work here?” A hellish scream escaped the beak of the intruder. They started to run for the door. Without thinking, Flamethrower slammed it shut. Being the sample handler she was able to shake out the right key and lock the supply closet with the fruit placer inside. “I gotta.. I need to.. call someone.” Flamethrower cowered in the hall as the sounds of the damned continued to emanate from behind the door. She dialed the authorities on her slightly outdated flip phone. Here is a piece of the phone call transcript: “Hello? This is the Eagla Police Force. What's your emergency?” Flamethrower’s shaky voice can be heard through the speaker. “I can’t seem to— uhm, you’re going to think this is a prank but please come.” The sample handler explains the situation. “Understood. We’ll send some officers your way. You are at Eagla Labs east wing correct?” “…Yes.” The police hung up. **Beep**
The police arrived shortly after to apprehend the intruder. They took the suspect into custody and instructed all employees at Eagla Labs to leave the facility, as it needed to be inspected. For the rest of the morning, a group of officers came to locate all the fruits planted all across the research facility. Then they snapped photos of all the evidence and brought the strawberry planted by the mysterious intruder back to the station.
“This is gonna be really weird and complicated, isn’t it.” That’s what Head Detective Pepsi Kola said when the Eagla Police identified a suspicious chemical laced on the supply closet strawberry. (For those outside the know, Pepsi worked in the Eagla Police way back when.)
“Can you find for sure what the chemical is? If not, I’d recommend consulting one of the analysts, I mean, we’re already here so we may as well. Also uhm, who’s that with the rumpled tie over there? He shouldn’t be here.” The bird with the tie in question was none other than Assistant Redgie Snake. The one with the spider phobia? Yes, that's his one defining feature now.
“Sorry, hello, my name is Redgie Snake, I’ve worked here for five years. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I’m just an assistant but I think I can take a look for you.”
Snake held up his identification lanyard with a nervous grin. The team of officers seemed a bit confused. Didn’t they tell everyone to clear out for the time being? Maybe this Snake guy was in the bathroom and went unnoticed. Either way, this guy was probably qualified to do this sort of thing. Even if he couldn’t give a detailed analysis, he could probably still pump out some valuable info on the case since he very well may have seen something.
“Right. Let’s head to wherever you keep your fancy microscopes shall we? And, if you’re comfortable, could you tell us if you saw anything strange this morning?”
Pepsi locked eyes with the awkward man standing before her and sipped loudly from her coffee. This was apparently some kind of intimidation tactic she used to make sure birds were being legit. It seemed to work.
When they’d reached the ice cold lab, one of the officers handed a small plastic bag to Snake. He produced a small tool from his pocket, sliced a sample of the closet strawberry, and placed the sample under a comically large and intricate microscope. The thing was almost fantastical with all those poseable lenses. One of the officers piped up, “Wow Detective Kola sure is good! She even got the fancy microscope part right!” “Don’t patronize me, Leslie.” Pepsi fixed her cliche detective hat and inspected the assistant analyst. Snake stated his thoughts: “Hey, that’s funny, the chemicals in this strawberry have a similar structure to those we have been studying. In fact, they seem to match those beanbird DNA samples, perfectly!” Snake’s eyes widened as he recalled the watermelon he pulled out of the coffee pot earlier that morning. Surely the coffee hadn’t been contaminated… right? Pepsi Kola raised an eyebrow. A short officer by the name Penny Timberwake inquired: “Beanbird samples you say… Do those samples happen to be from the secretary from Atlas Industries? I saw something on the news the other day. They were sent home because of their sudden and violent shift in demeanor. I’m unsure why the police were not notified of this.” “Yes! Yes! Those damn beanbird samples have been driving us mad for days! We can’t seem to figure out what made that secretary act all crazy!” Snake gasped out. This could solve it! The scientists at the Eagla facility have a new ‘lead’! “Calm down if you’re able sir, you’ve given us important information, but I’m also going to need you to tell us if there’s been any other suspicious activity around here lately.” Pepsi replies unfazed. “Oh.. yes, well, just this morning I found a watermelon in the coffee pot and totally thought it was a spider! Haha! I just hoisted the thing out and put it on the table.” “Did you drink the coffee after?” “Uhh.. yeah?” Snake was visibly sweating from the implication (a sizable feat for a feathered creature). He quickly added that “I didn’t come in contact with any fruits beforehand. I’m not crazy, I swear it just looked like a spider!” “Mmm yes, I… believe you Mr. Snake.” Pepsi took another slow sip of your coffee, failing to put on a convincing tone. “Well, my team and I will take our leave now. We’ve already blocked off places with the fruits but please leave until further notice. These fruits have likely been laced with a dangerous chemical by the intruder.” “I understand.” The assistant analyst took his belongings and left through the east exit.
Greetings, I haven’t written to you in a while and much has happened since we last spoke. You can rest easy, that grody Flare Misque Case is closed. However, I am doing more research into this group of individuals that seem to play a part in it. The Silly Geese (that’s their cult-ish name). They were likely the ones behind a couple other mind control related schemes throughout history. Their previous victims all showed a tendency to spew old west movie lines and changed their names to some idiotic bull like “Gilly Soose”. I think they were just testing how far they could go with this control though. I’ve been keeping a keen eagle eye on all weird happenings in Pennyland ever since. It’s a tremendous workload on top of the regular casework I take on, but I believe that it’s better to be safe than sorry. We were also able to drop Quail’s legal charges for the most part after the case conclusion. They must complete like 7 hours of community service now, but… still better than getting thrown in the slammer for something they didn’t actually do.
The folks at Eagla Labs are still working on a cure. For now, it is too dangerous for Quail to leave their house (which was soundproofed after the case’s conclusion). A researcher at Eagla Labs checks in on them every once in a while. Mostly to keep them company. It’s a terrible shame they cannot leave their house. I hope we can find a remedy soon. I played a couple chess matches with them before I left, you know? They’re a worthy opponent. That researcher Redgie Snake has also been quarantined to his house. The effects of the silliness on him seem to be milder, perhaps they will even wear off completely in time. We can only hope.
Tem hasn’t visited me since I left, she’s got a lot of work in her wings. After the shock The Flare Misque Case waved through the Eagla townsfolk, a couple new officers completed training and joined the force. We They are slightly less understaffed now. On a nicer note, the city’s been great actually. It’s incredibly stressful establishing a business here, but I have (reasonably) high hopes for the future.
Your sister, Pepsi Kola
Postscript: Penny Timberwake (my former chief) finally came out of his little hobbit hole. He just showed up to the station the day we closed the case and announced: “I solved the case!” What a nutcase.
Post-Postscript: I appreciate you. Just wanted you to know.
PART 1:
It was a dreadfully foggy morning at Eagla Labs. The leftover draft from the recent snowstorms crawled the streets. Some say that the perfect temperature for analyzing beanbird DNA samples is below 60F (Fa-wren-heit). I don’t know who said that but assistant data scribe and analyst Redgie Snake seemed to disagree. He stumbled over to the breakroom, teeth chattering as he walked. He was so tired from the previous day and it was completely obvious. He had sunken, black hole eye bags, a rumpled tie, and a distinct shiver placed halfway up his spine. Make no mistake, he’d never let himself get like this normally, it’s just those samples. Those bean samples…
They were extracted from a secretary working for Atlas Industries, a global shipping service. Ever since a few days ago they had been acting weird. They’d been saying things like “Get your goat up brosaurus” and “hold your horses”, nobody knows what any of that means. I don’t even know what a “horse” is!
Most just dismissed it as a fever at first and sent them home for a few days. But then the secretary’s family called. They said that they found the beanbird crawling up their bedroom walls and screeching. They had a crazed, glassy eyed stare that is hard to describe. It also seemed their pupils dilated to an unnatural extent, it’s quite nauseating to look at. They didn’t know if it was an illness or gas leak or something. They even considered that their dear child had been possessed! This was no ordinary cold. After a trip to the doctor’s, they were unable to identify what was causing the secretary to act in this way. Drool DNA samples were immediately sent to Eagla Labs for analysis. The scientists had worked their butts off to find something resembling a reason for this madness ever since.
But still, Snake groggily shoved the break room door out of the way and made his way over to the stagnant coffee pot. Snake’s eyes widened.
“SPIDER!!”
Snake squawked noisily before realizing it was just a conveniently placed watermelon. “Oh dear, looks like someone left their fruit on the table. How strange.” The assistant brushed it off, simply moving the unripe fruit out of the coffee pot. The thing nearly rolled off the edge of the counter, leaving a mere scomble of space before it stopped. It looked almost as if it was trying to reach the counter edge, begging for one more push. It looked at the assistant with sad eyes… what? Metaphor? No, I was talking about the watermelon. It’s very important to this case. Multiple other employees reported instances of finding fruits planted across the facility in strange places after that. The same afternoon, head sample handler Penny Flamethrower caught a glimpse of a moving grey figure speeding across the east hall. Flamethrower quietly followed the suspicious bird and witnessed the placing of a strawberry in a supply closet. The handler recalls that she poked her head into the doorway of said closet, saw the intruder’s back facing her as they put a strawberry up on a shelf. She also recalls the intruder having metallic white tail feathers poking out from behind. Though it might have just been a trick of the light. Flamethrower tried to inquire about this bird’s strange behavior. “I’m sorry but… do you work here?” A hellish scream escaped the beak of the intruder. They started to run for the door. Without thinking, Flamethrower slammed it shut. Being the sample handler she was able to shake out the right key and lock the supply closet with the fruit placer inside. “I gotta.. I need to.. call someone.” Flamethrower cowered in the hall as the sounds of the damned continued to emanate from behind the door. She dialed the authorities on her slightly outdated flip phone. Here is a piece of the phone call transcript: “Hello? This is the Eagla Police Force. What's your emergency?” Flamethrower’s shaky voice can be heard through the speaker. “I can’t seem to— uhm, you’re going to think this is a prank but please come.” The sample handler explains the situation. “Understood. We’ll send some officers your way. You are at Eagla Labs east wing correct?” “…Yes.” The police hung up. **Beep**
PART 2:
The police arrived shortly after to apprehend the intruder. They took the suspect into custody and instructed all employees at Eagla Labs to leave the facility, as it needed to be inspected. For the rest of the morning, a group of officers came to locate all the fruits planted all across the research facility. Then they snapped photos of all the evidence and brought the strawberry planted by the mysterious intruder back to the station.
“This is gonna be really weird and complicated, isn’t it.” That’s what Head Detective Pepsi Kola said when the Eagla Police identified a suspicious chemical laced on the supply closet strawberry. (For those outside the know, Pepsi worked in the Eagla Police way back when.)
“Can you find for sure what the chemical is? If not, I’d recommend consulting one of the analysts, I mean, we’re already here so we may as well. Also uhm, who’s that with the rumpled tie over there? He shouldn’t be here.” The bird with the tie in question was none other than Assistant Redgie Snake. The one with the spider phobia? Yes, that's his one defining feature now.
“Sorry, hello, my name is Redgie Snake, I’ve worked here for five years. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I’m just an assistant but I think I can take a look for you.”
Snake held up his identification lanyard with a nervous grin. The team of officers seemed a bit confused. Didn’t they tell everyone to clear out for the time being? Maybe this Snake guy was in the bathroom and went unnoticed. Either way, this guy was probably qualified to do this sort of thing. Even if he couldn’t give a detailed analysis, he could probably still pump out some valuable info on the case since he very well may have seen something.
“Right. Let’s head to wherever you keep your fancy microscopes shall we? And, if you’re comfortable, could you tell us if you saw anything strange this morning?”
Pepsi locked eyes with the awkward man standing before her and sipped loudly from her coffee. This was apparently some kind of intimidation tactic she used to make sure birds were being legit. It seemed to work.
When they’d reached the ice cold lab, one of the officers handed a small plastic bag to Snake. He produced a small tool from his pocket, sliced a sample of the closet strawberry, and placed the sample under a comically large and intricate microscope. The thing was almost fantastical with all those poseable lenses. One of the officers piped up, “Wow Detective Kola sure is good! She even got the fancy microscope part right!” “Don’t patronize me, Leslie.” Pepsi fixed her cliche detective hat and inspected the assistant analyst. Snake stated his thoughts: “Hey, that’s funny, the chemicals in this strawberry have a similar structure to those we have been studying. In fact, they seem to match those beanbird DNA samples, perfectly!” Snake’s eyes widened as he recalled the watermelon he pulled out of the coffee pot earlier that morning. Surely the coffee hadn’t been contaminated… right? Pepsi Kola raised an eyebrow. A short officer by the name Penny Timberwake inquired: “Beanbird samples you say… Do those samples happen to be from the secretary from Atlas Industries? I saw something on the news the other day. They were sent home because of their sudden and violent shift in demeanor. I’m unsure why the police were not notified of this.” “Yes! Yes! Those damn beanbird samples have been driving us mad for days! We can’t seem to figure out what made that secretary act all crazy!” Snake gasped out. This could solve it! The scientists at the Eagla facility have a new ‘lead’! “Calm down if you’re able sir, you’ve given us important information, but I’m also going to need you to tell us if there’s been any other suspicious activity around here lately.” Pepsi replies unfazed. “Oh.. yes, well, just this morning I found a watermelon in the coffee pot and totally thought it was a spider! Haha! I just hoisted the thing out and put it on the table.” “Did you drink the coffee after?” “Uhh.. yeah?” Snake was visibly sweating from the implication (a sizable feat for a feathered creature). He quickly added that “I didn’t come in contact with any fruits beforehand. I’m not crazy, I swear it just looked like a spider!” “Mmm yes, I… believe you Mr. Snake.” Pepsi took another slow sip of your coffee, failing to put on a convincing tone. “Well, my team and I will take our leave now. We’ve already blocked off places with the fruits but please leave until further notice. These fruits have likely been laced with a dangerous chemical by the intruder.” “I understand.” The assistant analyst took his belongings and left through the east exit.
PART 3: (ELECTRIC BOOGALOO) —
It was 3:00PM by the time Pepsi and Co got back to the station. The sun had more or less blown away the morning mist and was now lounging high in the blue Pennadian sky. There was a slight breeze that tickled the birch trees in front of the Eagla Police Department. Many would agree that it was a nice day. It was just about time to question the fruit placer now, and Pepsi was already eager for more leads. She slowly opened the door to the interrogation room, still holding the now cold cup of coffee from earlier. The room was dim, with only a small lightbulb in the center of the room situated above a table with two chairs on either side. Most importantly, the room was empty. Pepsi frowned, clearing her throat before asking “Err.. where’s the suspect?” She looked to her fellow team members who all gave equally puzzled expressions. “Tem. You did apprehend the suspect didn’t you?” Temela Stevas was an excellent evidence analyst, albeit a little airheaded. She’d lived here far longer than most and knew the town like the back of her wing. “I did! I drove the suspect all the way to the station when some higherups stopped me. They presented their badges and everything. They said that the suspect must be released immediately and handed me a pile of paperwork. All of it was filled out accordingly and signed by an anonymous bird. I had no choice but to release the fruit placer.” “TEM WHAT?” Pepsi usually never lost her composure like this. “You can’t just let a possible fruit lacer back onto the streets when the signer hasn’t even revealed his identity? Did you read the book???” Temela replied “Pep, you know that I legally cannot defy this sort of stuff right? It was all filled out! The papers, pep, THE PAPERS!” Pepsi rubbed her temples and lowered her head. “I’m aware. Just… gather what information you can about the suspect for now. We’ll cross paths again, I’m sure. For now, let’s prioritize looking into that beanbird from Atlas Industries. Find out everything you can.” “Yes, Ms. Kola” Temela took her leave and brought two other officers with her. Pepsi retreated to her office, slightly agitated still. Time to bring out the cork board and red string I suppose. The detective ripped down the cork board from the previous case and hung a fresh one. Officer Timberwake insisted that she keep the “brainstorm boards” as he called them, because they added character to the office. Pepsi unlocked her computer which was sat in the middle of her horrifyingly cluttered desk. The detective looked up several things related to the case and was most definitely not playing minesweeper. 30 minutes later she was able to find the identity and socials of the dazed secretary at Atlas Industries, as well as all the Eagla lab workers and their respective EarliBird work profiles. Quail Smeref that’s the secretary’s name. “What kind of name is that?” scoffed Pepsi, realizing shortly after that someone with a name like “Pepsi Kola” shouldn’t be talking. The detective stared intently into the pixelated game piece icon on Quail’s Penstagram. She began to scroll, quietly leafing through years of posts. Most would think this was unnecessary but Pepsi knew that one must know exactly what questions to ask before even talking with someone connected with a case. Plus, even if the secretary really had gone crazy and couldn’t speak with Pepsi, it’d be good to have something to compare their behavior to. Before she knew it, Pepsi Kola had stalked the entirety of Quail’s Penstagram profile. Somehow, it had already gotten dark. Pepsi checked her watch. Dang it’s 9 already? Looks like I’ll have to wait ‘till I can contact Quail or their family. A few things she had gathered were that 1: Quail had two close family members and a small group of close friends, and 2: Quail really liked playing chess. Half their posts were about the game! How interesting. Pepsi also loved the game and was known to be tough competition. Maybe she could play the secretary— no! She immediately banished the thought from her mind. There are more troubling things at hand. There’s no time for games. Pepsi then proceeded to open her computer and play minesweeper for another two hours.PART 4:
“Hello Mrs. Smeref, I am Detective Pepsi Kola of the Eagla Police. I’m here to interview your child, Quail Smeref?” There she was standing probably mere meters away from the room of Quail Smeref. The beanbird she’d stalked the socials of just yesterday. The house of the Smerefs was old but well decorated. There was an ever present smell of peeling wallpaper glue, wafting around them. Pepsi had set up arrangements with the Smerefs that morning, asking to see Quail Smeref. The parents of the beanbird originally denied the request because they were sure that Quail couldn’t give any information in their state, but Pepsi pressed on until they caved. “Are you sure you want to talk with them face to face? I fear for your safety. A friend of theirs came to see them the other day and was attacked! Oh I’ve been worried sick about our dear Quail.” Mrs. Smeref looked like she hadn’t slept a wink. “Yes I’m sure. Don’t worry Miss, I’m trained in martial arts. I won’t hurt your kid, but if I’m able to see them face to face I may be able to help with curing them of this err.. what’s the right word… insanity?” Pepsi stirred. Why the hell did she say that she was trained in martial arts?? Her impulsive decision to come alone was majorly screwing her over. “What were the injuries if I may ask..?” She sheepishly asked, Mr. Smeref spoke “Many bruises I do believe. He got beaten up pretty bad.” Pepsi’s eyes widened a little, then returned to their regular size. “Worth it lol” Pepsi muttered aloud accidentally. Mr. and Mrs. Smeref led the detective to the second story of the antique house. There was a family portrait perched on the wall at the top of the stairwell. They looked happy. Quail’s room was at the end of the hallway. The door was next to a dark rancher cabinet. A lovely vase of purple hyacinths, now slightly wilted as if a gray shadow had been cast over them, was placed on the cabinet. They looked like some kind of greeting committee, trying to usher the detective inside Quail’s room. A faint scratching could be heard on the other side of the door. For some reason, it seemed that the air turned a little colder. The hall seemed to darken. Pepsi was probably imagining it. She’d been so eager earlier, there’s no turning back now. The now anxious detective turned the doorknob. She peeked through. The room was mostly filled with blue afternoon shadows, save for the bed that was illuminated by the cool afternoon light from a window on the right of the bedroom. It could almost pass as tranquil, if you ignored the torn curtains strewn across the floor that is. Pepsi cautiously closed the door behind her as she entered the eerily quiet room. It was empty? No.. no it wasn’t. Pepsi’s heart started racing violently in her chest as she felt a droplet of liquid fall on her head. She really didn’t want to look up. She had to though. The detective swallowed her anxiety and tilted her head towards the ceiling. “AGHH!!” That’s probably what Pepsi’s scream sounded like, I don’t know. After socking dear Pepsi in the face and gut respectively, the crazed secretary started to run frantically around the room. They ran circles around the detective, creating some kind of death ring or something. They were a blur of rage. Pepsi you numbskull! Why’d ya come alone?? Pepsi thought. Pepsi believed the beanbird was beyond talking at this point, so she decided to take note of their behavior. It was hard to get a clear glimpse of the moving blur of silvery feathers, but Pepsi knew she had to observe harder than ever so she could get out of this room with information, and hopefully alive. Pepsi noted the secretary’s supernatural movements as they scaled the walls of their bedroom with perceived ease. She also noted that one of the tail feathers seemed to be a bit crooked when Quail kicked her squarely between the eyebrows. Pluck it? No! That’s a violation! What the heck? Pepsi hated herself for even thinking of taking the loose feather for examination. She rubbed her forehead where she could feel a spot of purple starting to form under her feathers. Probably a good time to leave. Pepsi narrowly dodged the blur of Quail as she flung the door open. She heard the room behind her go quiet as she slammed the door. Why’d they go and do that? Why’d they go quiet? Thoroughly perplexed by this sudden deviation from the typical, Pepsi, bruised and beaten, decided to crack open the door just a smidge a final time. Inside was still quiet. But this time she could see Quail in a fetal position, sat back facing the detective in the corner of their room. . . sniffling? “Smeref? Are you… alright?” Surely this string of words meant nothing to the beanbird in this state, but Pepsi could see their face now, half of it cast in shadow. They were crying.PART 5: —
“What’s the matter?” Pepsicle’s voice quaked, but only a little. She stood in the doorway before a weeping Quail in the shadowed bedroom. Pepsi shined like a decrepit angel as the light from the hall illuminated behind her. The crazed secretary turned to face her. “The clock runs cold at . . . midnight, darling.” The beanbird’s words were strung together as if they were pieces of an unfinished puzzle, or some disturbing paper collage. Yet the words seemed to be said with purpose, as if Quail was forcing them out. There was a strange clarity in their speech. Without warning, the secretary’s legs buckled and they clasped their stomach to puke. Pepsi… decided to leave because holy crap. The Smeref household was quiet after that. As the detective jotted her observations on her stickiest notepad, she rubbed one wing on her temple and felt a pit in her stomach. Additionally there was a lump in her throat and a weakness in her knees. Yeah the whole nine yards of perturbed-ness. This whole ordeal was making her sick. The clock runs cold at midnight. What could that mean? Maybe Temela would know. After all, the canary excelled in data analysis. Come to think of it, why didn’t Pepsi just bring Tem along? “Because I don’t want her to get hurt.” Pepsi didn’t realize she said that aloud, but nobody was around to hear anyway. This minor embarrassment would only be hers to remember. That wasn’t the only thing she’d done wrong that day though. Pepsi left the Smeref house with a loose tail feather in her bag.PART 5: —-
It was now almost dark. The evening sky was sneezing with the all the dusty clouds that drifted carelessly up above. Back in her little office at the Eagla Police station, Pepsi turned around in her really cool detective’s chair and stared into the sea of sticky notes and red yarn heaped on the ground before her. Oh god the corkboard fell. Red string and everything! Pepsi was too tired to get up and attempt to reorganize this horrid mess, all she could do was glare melancholically and the heap of evidence and false leads. The detective heard the door open behind her. The stout Temela Stevas stood in the doorway. Pepsi jumped at the chance to spark conversation, “Oh yeah, I was just looking for you, Tem! I need to discuss some freaky clues and crap with you. I think you’d be better at cracking these cryptic morsels than me.” “Hello to you too, Pep! Yeah, I can help!” Temela skimmed the horribly messy office before her, “Er, did someone rob you?” “No, it’s always like this. You wouldn’t mind helping me pick this up would you?” Pepsi straightened up in her super cool detective’s chair and gave her most convincing and awkward grin. Temela sighed and the two began to un-fuse the red yarn fibers from the lovely compass rose rug. Now seems like a nice time to go into uncomfortable detail about Pepsi’s office. It was filled with vintage merchandise and various board games that the detective would play by herself on particularly boring nights. Besides being an investigator, Pepsi was also an avid admirer of artifacts around the world. She collected souvenirs whenever she traveled, though it was pretty rare that she left this dead little town. The walls were filled ear to ear or whatever walls have instead of ears with racks, certificates, maps, and historical movie posters. Files and papers were stacked in shifty piles around the room, the true definition of controlled chaos. The detective liked working basically anywhere but her desk. Pepsi finally spoke to break this horrible description of her office, “Right, here’s what I gained: first of all, the affected beanbird, Quail Smeref, was drooling and running up the walls. Definitely not normal. Also, they said something about how ‘the clock runs at midnight’ or something? Does that mean anything to you?” Temela looked up for a moment then responded, “Hmm, that’s weird, I swear that phrase sounds familiar… also what happened to your face?? Ugh you didn’t do something stupid again, did you?” Detective Kola had not even realized the comical purple bruise starting to form on her forehead. “Oh, uh, it's nothing. Didn’t do anything weird, promise. Okay, but seriously, got any ideas on that riddle thing?” Tem didn’t bother rolling her eyes, she knew full well that Pepsi was lying. Most could tell. She was a terrible liar after all. “Well, I suppose it could be referring to a time and a place. They are both present in this phrase after all.” “What do you mean? Where’s the place? Clocks aren’t a place, midnight isn’t a place. Heck, running isn’t a place either!” “That’s it, Pepsi! Clocks ARE a place! The town hall has a clock tower. And when do the clock hands always get stuck? Midnight. I know because I hear the guy that fixes it whistling as he pushes that giant clock hand back into place every night. I had to close my window because of that horrible sound.” Pepsi’s face lit up in enlightenment. “That does make sense… Tem, are you willing to lurk around the town hall tonight?” “This is legal, right? No trespassing or anything.” “Temela. Loitering isn’t a crime –in most places. We’ll just stay for a little bit after midnight. It’’ll be fine.” “Mmm, alright. You’re on your own if you try anything though.” Pepsi gave another odd grin as she put the last stickied note back into place. The reorganizing of the corkboard didn’t take as long as she thought it would. They will meet at midnight.PART 6: —
The stars in the black expanse of space looked down upon the two birds discreetly lurking around Eagla Town Hall. Clock strikes twelve, midnight arrives. The two hold turned off flashlights so if somebody does happen to be there, they don’t see them coming. “For your information, we will not be telling anyone about this, okay? Can’t have the suspect being released again.” Pepsi murmured, readjusting her satchel and pulling her hat down to obscure her face. “What!? You didn’t tell me that! I can’t keep letting you off the hook for this crap!” Temela whisper-shouted as they turned a corner to greet the bushes near the entrance of Eagla Town Hall. “Sorry Tem, but this case is bigger than I thought. I can’t have you releasing birds left and right, specially without a face behind the release documents.” “Alright Pep, just this once I suppose. But just because, and I hate to say this, the law that makes that legal is pretty strange anyway.” Pepsi nods, “Thanks for trusting me, Tem.” Approximately ten minutes passed circling the building many times aimlessly –yet with determined vigor! “Maybe we got here too late. Or there was nothing here at all to begin with.” Temela sighed and took a seat against the back wall of the building. Eagla Town hall was squished between several other possibly less important infrastructure, basically a large alley surrounded three quarters of the meeting hall. In the dark, it was hard to see its ornate white accents to its brick red walls. Two large pillars jutted out from the ground connecting the hall to its porch. Upon its Rocrane-Federal style roof was a rather bulky clock tower that rings longer than it should every morning. Pepsi looked slightly defeated as she was sure that the phrase had meant something along the lines of this. Her eyes had already glazed over due to gripping sleepiness. It had been a busy day. Compulsively, Pepsi pulled out the historical adventure novel she had neglected to finish the previous day. Determined Penguin and Escaping Penguin: Temple of the Golden Seeds. Let us read a paragraph as the two detectives lie in wait. Determined Penguin lunged over the fast-crumbling gap in the floor. Grabbing onto Escaping Penguin’s wing moments before he would have fallen into the astronomically deep abyss below. Oh no! Sweaty palms! Determined Penguin thought as their grip on each other started to falter. Escaping Penguin wasn’t sure what to do. “EP! The rope!” Determined Penguin shouted determined-ly. Escaping Penguin, with all his might, used his remaining strength to keep their wings linked, whilst preparing to lasso Determined Penguin with his trusty rope. After tying the knot with great struggle, EP hoisted DP out of the jaws of the bottomless pit. They both drew a long sigh of relief. Who knew an ancient cursed relic would be trap— “Hey. Did you hear that?” If Temela had visible ears they would have perked up. She had heard a rustling in the bins on the left side of the building. Pepsi blinked away the redness in her eyes. “We should check that out.” The pair creep to the left of Eagla Town Hall. Pepsi’s eyes widen as she spots a shadowy figure leaning over some trash bins. Would it be better to creep up on them in the dark, or chase them with a flashlight.. Probably, probably the first one right? Ah, but what if it's just a random guy loitering around the town hall? There’s lots of random guys around here. Maybe at the very least, they could see what the bird looked like if they shine their flashlights on them. Pepsi cautiously turned on her flashlight and offered a brief “Hello? Who’s there? You can’t be out ‘round here this late, ya-know.” This was not a rule, but it could probably get the figure to draw suspicion to themselves. Pepsi appeared to be cosplaying as a security guard at the town hall. Even with the lack there of. The shadowy ghost of a bird seemed to be placing something in the trashbin. Their hearts were racing as they inched closer to the figure. The alley seemed more cramped as they went. Pepsi and Tem illuminated the garbage bin. A strawberry? At the sight of the grimacing light, the now extremely suspicious phantom immediately started to sprint away. The chase was on. They can’t lose the suspect now! Pepsi and Tem started towards the suspect, adrenaline seeping through both of their veins. By the time they had reached the open street on this chilly night, the suspect was gone. Nary a gust of wind nor rustling was heard. “DAMN IT! Where’d they go?!” Pepsi didn’t realize how loud she had projected her voice. “Hey, what’s going on out here? Are y’all tres-passin’? I know y’all ain’t permitted to do that.” A new voice emerged from the high window above the town hall’s clock tower. It was the guy who fixes the clock each night! It’s the guy! “That’s it I’m comin’ down there to report you fellers to the right and proper au-tho-rities. That’s right, you will feel the wrath of justice from the wings of Paul the Clock Guy!” “Urgh, we can’t stay here much longer. The suspect’s gone. This guy might think we’re doing something illegal. What a terrible example we’d make to the citizens of this town.” Temela lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “That’s what you're worried about?? How will we catch that fruit planting loiterer now! We’re gonna have to come back tomorrow ya-hear Tem? First thing tomorrow morning. You’re coming with me.” Pepsi rasped as she kneeled in the center of the road to catch her breath. The dry wind picked up along the deserted street. “Understood, Ms Kola.” “Right, let’s get out of here before that clock hooligan comes down here.” With that, the detective scrambled away into the night with her partner in various mystery solving activities. Little did they know, the looming figure was trailing close behind.PART 7: —-
Sleep was trying to cling onto Pepsi and Temela like a desperate ex as they slogged down the empty street. The fruitless moon hung wearily in the night, hiding behind a thin sheet of clouds. A few sad amber street lamps like an airport emergency exit? What? I’m running out of comparisons here. But anyway, all was silent, save for… “Hey, Tem, ya hear that?” “Hear what?” “Stop walking.” Pepsi’s voice grew cold. “Okay, start walking again.” Temela glanced confused at her colleague, but complied. The two began to walk once more. “Stop.” Pepsi whispered almost too quietly to hear. They stopped. To Temela’s horror, she heard one additional step that did not belong to either detective. The canary’s heart skipped a beat. Without a second to think, an amber blur pounced on Tem. “AGH!” Pepsi threw a punch at the figure who she now realized was wearing a black hoodie. Of course this didn’t work and Temela continued to struggle out of the figure’s grasp. Despite Temela being a slippery fella, she could not maneuver out of this phantom’s chokehold. Pepsi’s thoughts were racing. A weapon. She needs a weapon. The hat wearing detective pulls out the ginormous bookmark-filled tomb that was Determined Penguin and Escaping Penguin: Temple of the Golden Seeds. WHACK. Pepsi landed a clear hit to the suspect’s face. Though weak, Pepsi could pack quite the blow with the right tools. The fruit-planting suspect hissed and screeched, they scurried away. It was almost a little too easily dealt with. “Tem, you… okay?” Temela was fine for the most part, but she had a mean bruise on her left eye. “I’m okay, but on the bright side, guess we’re matching now!” She was of course referring to the fact that they now both suffered face injuries after getting the tar beat out of them. It was beyond Pepsi how the canary could make light of this terrifying ordeal. “Let’s just get home safe, alright.” Pepsi rubbed her temples, her heart was jumping around wildly now, but she had to get some sleep. “But what if we’re followed?” “Damn, you’re right, best to sleep at the police station tonight. Make sure to lock all the doors. I do NOT want that suspect knowing where I live.” “I don’t feel safe, Pepsi.” “That’s because we’re not.” The two ran to the police station a couple blocks down, luckily, no more incidents occurred. The Eagla police station sported a long sofa in the lounge room, where Temela would sleep the night. Pepsi, on the other wing, pulled a blanket out of one of the supply closets and slept in her office. It was actually a quilt but honestly who gives a crap. Pepsi was sure that a billion questions would plague her in the morning. She was too tired to think though. So despite the exciting train of events of the night, Pepsi fell asleep instantly, wrapped like a microwave burrito in the lovely quilt. I told you man, I’m running out of similes.PART 8: —
The dawn shone true as the sun peeked through the blinds of the lounge room. The roads of Eagla were slick and dreadfully icy, and residents were not looking forward to going to work on this chilly day. It seemed that winter had come overnight. The sound of turning keys was heard at the police lounge’s exit. “What is up, station 12!?” A very cool and radical dude entered the police station. His name was River Redmane and he was an officer of the Eagla police. Temela Stevas, still half asleep, cracked open her eyelids to see the vibrant feathers of the scarlet macaw swaggering cooly towards her slumber sofa. “Oh, Hello River! What are you doing here so early?” “Early? It’s ten o’clock. Saw the clock strikin’ as she does, an’ all that. I’m here to retrieve my shades. ‘Sides, I could ask you the same question, Stevas.” “Ah, crazy night. It’s too hard to explain right now,” Temela waved her wrist. “maybe I should see if Ms Kola’s up. Perhaps we would articulate it better with both perspectives.” “Woahh, you didn’t tell me Pepscicle was here! I gotta go get her! And tell me ‘bout that cuh-razy night you had! I’m all ears Tems. I got all the time in the world! Since I won't be doing much today. . . as always!” “Haha, I know, River.” River retrieved his sick freaking glasses from the countertop. Temela couldn’t help grinning as she pulled an itchy yellow pin feather out of her neck and rubbed her sunken eyes. Frickin’ dork that guy. She hobbled to the water kettle and began boiling water to pour into a cup of coffee grinds she always kept on the table. Never know when you’re gonna work a late shift. She couldn’t help but hear the macaw attempting to wake her colleague up in the next room. “Heyooo! Pepscicle it’s meeee!” Temela didn’t hear it, but was sure that Pepsi let out a long sigh, followed by a Heeeey River. The two pushed through a floral curtain into the coral walled lounge room, one vampirically slouched, one super pumped. Pepsi’s expression changed as she glanced around the room. “Wow, I never come in here. Is it always this. . . hipster-y?” “Yeah cuz you’re just always workin’ aren’t you, Pep! You work-likin’ scamp.” Pepsi decided to ignore this statement. The lounge had recently been painted a pale coral color with white accents. The couch that Temela had dreamed strange dreams on last night was a lime green loveseat with floral print. A tall smooth coffee table stood in the middle of the room with several high cushioned seats situated around it. Various plants in cocoafruit husks were suspended with rope. The lounge looked more like a townhouse kitchen than part of a police station. “Yup, I did a bit of redecorating since I spend so much time lounging in the lounge. Heaps of gnarly isn’t it?” Pepsi could not decide whether the parrot was being sarcastic or not, and frankly was too tired to care. One would have to agree that the room was pretty well designed though. “Ah! Ms Kola! I was waiting for you to wake up so we can recount all of last night’s happenings! Sure, we didn’t catch any suspicious folk, but I have observed some things with my big canary eyes that I think are worth sharing.” Pepsi nodded as the kettle started to steam and shout. The three sat around the hardwood table with three amazing beautiful cups of coffee that luckily didn’t have water filled fruits within them. The two, Pepsi and Tem, began to recollect the odd night they had had. “Also why is it colder than a WHIPPERSNIPPET here? Can someone turn up the heater? I’m freezing!” Tem winced a little at this statement. “Language! . . . But I agree.” Temela hobbled over to the radiator. Pepsi shook violently as a cold draft came in through the lounge window. The heat was subsequently “turned up”. “So this Quail Smeref character must’ve known about that right? They spoke in riddles and crap!” Pepsi uttered with mad confusion as the room became slightly warmer. “Yes, it is very likely, Miss. Quail could be being silenced somehow through their sickness. We just don’t know how yet. Or, perhaps it’s all an act… and Quail is faking insanity to lead us to the fruit lacer?” “Good thoughts Tem, but I feel like a lot of this is speculation. We need more evidence. Maybe we can stop by Eagla labs and interview those beanbird samplers. I was actually thinking of doing this sooner but these past few days have been hectic as hell.” Temela considered Pepsi’s words. “Sounds good. Let’s stop by later today once it stops snowing.” “Snowing????” Pepsi glanced out the now closed drafty window. It was snowing.PART 9: —
A penny and a canary painstakingly trudged through the arctic wasteland that Eagla had apparently froze into earlier this morning. The roads outside the Eagla police station were all jammed up with white frost so no ordinary vehicle could get through. “Gee I’m gonna catch a cold any moment now! I wish they made like… like a heat fan I could attach to a fishing rod to dangle in front of me or something… like a… donkey and carrot or something.” Temela quivered like a sickly child in her lavender windbreaker. “The hell is a donkey? I think the cold’s getting to you Tem. Don’t worry it’s not far.” Pepsi was holding up just fine actually. Must be the Artieach heritage I imagine. She pulled her awesome detective’s hat down over her nose so she could preserve the warmth of her breath. Eagla Labs was approaching them. Or rather, they were approaching Eagla Labs. Who knows man. Pepsi heard a thud. “Tem?” The detective turned to see her canary pal collapsed face down in the snow. Her eyes widened as panic set in. “Oh god oh god!” Pepsi almost tripped herself trying to drag her unconscious friend back to the station. Luckily it wasn’t far. The cold really did get to her! The hat-adorned detective forced the lounge exit open as a surprised River Redmane shifted in his seat at the table island to face her. “Woah woah woah! The dickens happened out there dudette??” Pepsi panted heavily, trying to catch her fleeting breath as she lay Temela near the radiator. “Fainted from cold… just… get her some… hot water…” Pepsi managed to wheeze out. River rushed over and felt for a pulse in Temela’s wrist. “Still breathing. She’s gonna be alright, man. Just got a mean case of the old shivers.” Pepsi couldn’t believe how foolish she was. Not every bird can stand trudging through four bird feet of snow like that. Damn you, you silly bastard. But she couldn’t stay for long. Who knows when that horrid yet splendorious icefall would start back up again. The detective started to catch her breath again, yet her heart and mind still raced like an eagle at sundown. I don’t think that’s a real expression, but nonetheless, Pepsi began for the door again. “Sorry I… can’t stay long now. Just, make sure she’s okay… right River?” “Right as rainfall, Pep.” River turned back to the slowly toasting canary beside him again. A look containing both worry and confusion. Pepsi was met with the view of the town snowmobile shoveling a growing pile of snow along the road. Could’ve just waited like two seconds Pepsi. With merit and perhaps even comical annoyance, Pepsi rode easily to Eagla Labs in a cop car. Pepsi entered the sterile building to see that the employees had since returned after all fruit had been removed from the laboratory. She immediately noticed the head sampler handler rolling a looming stack of samples and various tools in a shockingly small metal cart. “Excuse me. I’m here to interview you on the events of a few days ago.” She said, flicking at her Eagla Police badge. After a brief look of confusion from the cart-rolling bird, enlightenment lit up her face. “Oh uh, of course! Just let me get these samples off to the side.” The sample handler wheeled the cart into a nearby room filled with a completely insane amount of beanbird samples. “My name is Penny Flamethrower. Head sample handler here.” “Peachy. Do you happen to know anything about that beanbird secretary you’ve been observing samples for? And do you know anything important about the intruder that broke in a few days ago?” Pepsi tried not to reveal any details that the average lab-goer didn’t already know. “Oh well, it’s lucky that you asked me of all birds. I was… actually the one who called the station when I saw that strange figure scuttling around.” Penny Flamethrower visibly stiffened. “That’s great! Can you imagine the scene in your head? What did the intruder look like? What were they wearing?” Pepsi realized she was coming off erratic as she often does when she doesn’t get enough sleep. Flamethrower took a moment to relive her persuit after the suspicious suspect. “Hmm well, I saw a gray blur and started to trail the intruder to see what was happening, then I saw it placing a strawberry on a storage shelf. Next thing I know it’s screaming its head off and I was sat outside the closet I locked callin’ the police! But also… there was one thing that stuck out. Just before I locked that bird in, I saw scraggly silver feathers sticking out. This is the one part that’s seared into my memory for whatever reason. Just those shiny tail feathers. They looked like knives.” Pepsi was quick to jot this down in her notes. Her thoughts were running in frantic circles. Trampling her ability to sound normal. “That’s amazing. Wonderful. Thanks for that information. Thank you thank you Flamethrower!” She would definitely look back on this moment with enlarged embarrassment. The detective realized she was acting totally unprofessional and decided she would soon take her leave and go interrogate another bird. Uhhh that Snake guy she talked with before had been an excellent source so far, despite his failure to differentiate a watermelon with an arachnid. Pepsi turned on her heel. She stared with reddened eyes towards the sample handler, who had turned the other direction and was already trying to get away from her. “One last thing! Do you happen to know where Redgie Snake is? Thank you for your super awesome help by the way…” Penny Flamethrower tensed again as she turned back towards Pepsi. “Oh… Redgie isn’t here today. He’s been acting more weird than usual and we had to send him home. We believe he has a high fever so he’s been cooped up these past few days.” “He’s sick? Right after drinking that probably laced coffee too?” Pepsi didn’t mean to say that last part but her fast-swimming heartbeat mellowed out her cognitive function. “Uhm… goodbye, Flamey.” Yeah, maybe it’s time to take that leave. She took it. She took that leave. No more second hand embarrassment for today!PART: 10 —
“Listen Tem, the day I first interviewed Redgie Snake he said that he’d drunk out of a coffee pot that he said had a watermelon in it.” “Is that an expression?” “No, there was a watermelon in the coffee pot. Likely placed by a certain intruder. Now he’s acting sick all of a sudden? Blah. Bull. I think this fruit caused his illness. All we have to do is to figure out what exactly is laced on the fruits. Perhaps this is what is causing Quail’s insanity too.“ Pepsi had regained her composure, albeit with a fair amount less in the dignity meter. She was sitting next to Tem in the lounge of Eagla Police station. “Dang, now that I look at this place, it is kinda well furnished.” Pepsi commented, tilting her head thoughtfully at the coral wallpaper and palm plants. ”Anyhow, the thing with Quail and Snake can’t be a coincidence. There’s some crazy bird behind all this.” Tem piped up, “Maybe we can start by tracking down those higherups that stopped me the other day to let the intruder go. I highly doubt they are guilty, but maybe I can get my feathers on those papers. If we’re lucky, maybe they left featherprints on it.” Pepsi gave a gracious nod of agreement and continued, “Yeah, first we need to get those papers, second, we need to confirm the precise symptoms of Snake’s fever. Maybe he’s just regular sick.” Tem replied, and took an intrigued sip of coffee. The two seemed to get into a creepy psychic state when brainstorming. One knows what the other is thinking. It’s weird. “Exactly. Annnd, we know that the intruder’s backside has silver feathers. The same notably shiny ones that Quail has. If we’re lucky, maybe we can get some genetic material from the intruder and see if they match.” Pepsi pulled out the plastic-bagified beanbird feather she’d nabbed during her encounter with Quail. “Oh my gosh, Pepsi! Did you pluck that?? What the feathers??” “No, no, ‘course not. It fell as I was leaving.” The remnants of her face bruise were still peeking through her own feathers. Temela did not believe her. “Ms. Kola, you cannot keep violating policy like this! Please just follow the rules for once!” Pepsi sighed and rubbed her temples again, making sure to avoid the bruise. “I’m sorry Tem, it’s for the case. We need to get to the bottom of this. I promise I won’t bend the rules again, okay? Besides, matching DNA is a job for another day.” Tem nodded in satisfaction. “Thank you.” “Okay okay, for the last job, we need to talk to Smeref again. They clearly know something we don’t, behind the veil of insanity, I know they’re still in there. I doubt they’ll let me in again on account of me getting uh… beat up, so someone has to persuade them to let them in the Smeref household.” “That’s three jobs, Ms. Kola! We gotta get this case closed soon. Or else who knows who will be infected by this strange chemical! Now that I think about it, how do we know we won’t be infected?” “Don’t worry about that, the chemicals can’t travel through air. Snake told me. Still though, a valid concern. We sanitized Eagla Labs after the fruit lacing incident. Top to bottom. What we need to be concerned about is who to send on the third job. I know Penny Timberwake’s been a no-show for a few days. Apparently he’s locked himself in his house… ‘observing,’ whatever the hell that means. Leslie’s hardly even a cop, he just showed up one day. So that leaves… River… urgh.” Pepsi rubbed her temples accordingly at the utterance of his name. What job could this guy even do? He’d definitely mess it up somehow. An uncomfortably draft swam feverishly through the air. “Ya know, River’s actually pretty good at persuasion, I think he’d be valuable for getting more info on Quail’s condition. Since their parents will likely be hesitant about this whole thing.” “What? How?” “He convinced you that this room looked good.” Pepsi seemed dismayed at this information.PART 11: —-
And so it was decided. Pepsi would interrogate Snake, Tem gets the papers that let Smeref off the hook, and to the head detective’s dismay, River would question Quail. “Please tell me you brought something to defend yourself with this time.” Tem had already been reluctant to let Pepsi interrogate another potentially dangerous bird. Pepsi patted a rather bulky cylindrical object tucked in her coat pocket. To enhance this delicious mystery smoothie, I won’t tell you what it is. The three split at midday, the warmest it ever got in Eagla’s wintertime. Pepsi Kola knew where Snake lived. Past Edgar’s Convenience, The Silver Moon bar, and up on a stale hill visible from Cypress Park, a place that, in present day, has been abandoned. Snake lived in a pale-bricked villa joined with aged walnut beams that had gothic fencing stretched around a dank green garden which grew rampant with veiny weeds. She’d seen him come out of his garden from the park many a time when she used to walk ‘round there. Pepsi and Snake knew of each others’ presence far before their paths had ever crossed. A shame they had to meet this way. Pepsi pulled a white medical mask over her nose as she walked the stone path vaguely shadowed by scrawny little cocoabelly trees. She banged the door with the off-putting batbear knocker and waited. A small gray lady greeted her at the door. “Hello?” “Hello, my name is Pepsi Kola, I’m a detective in the Eagla Police department. I’m here to talk to Redgie Snake.” “Oh my, I’m afraid he’s sick. I can’t let you do that, my dear. You will catch his cold.” The stout pigeon frowned. She glanced everywhere but the detective’s face, methodically shifting from side to side. Pepsi spoke again. “Well in that case, I… brought him some soup for his cold. I hope you don’t mind if I leave it in this room. He hasn’t been acting… violent or weird lately has he?” Pepsi bit her tongue, realizing the possibly offensive way that sentence came out of the oven. The lady looked slightly surprised at this statement. “As a matter of fact he has been trying repeatedly to do backflips on his bed despite his illness. He hasn’t hurt any bird though. If it’s just to give him soup then I suppose I can’t refuse you, detective.” With that, Pepsi was allowed entry to the well furnished estate. Seems like sample analyzing pays well. The pigeon ushered her up a rather grandiose staircase and to Snake’s door. The hall smelled like osmanthus and old newspapers. The detective gently pushed the door open just a scomble to see where the sample assistant rested, wing hovering over the mystery weapon she’d shoved in her back pocket. Gently, very gently, she cracked open the door full ways to bear witness to Snake’s ornate bedroom. It’s… clean. Pepsi pondered if her trip here would result in no valuable leads. The bedroom had neatly arranged attributes. A bed, oriental shelves lined on one wall, file cabinets, a large writing desk, stuff you’d expect. In contrast with his bedroom, Redgie Snake was anything but ordinary. He was sat near a dresser under the wall shelves, counting dried pasta with made up numbers. Iyt ret nast ist uwt uilt iqt. Pepsi observed from the doorway as Snake divided the pasta into one pile: uncounted, and another: counted. Each time he got to the seventh word, he’d start over and continue drawing uncounted pasta from the original pasta heap. “Hello, Mr. Snake?” Pepsi cautiously inched her way towards the bird. She was standing almost directly behind the bird now. No reaction. The handler kept at his pointless endeavor. She watched him do that for a while, it was kind of mesmerizing how focused Snake was, invisible brow furrowed in concentration. She noted this behavior. “Snake? I’m here to interrogate you on recent events. I need to know your previous experience with the beanbird samples. I brought soup!” She dug out a cylindrical thermos of pipin’ hot vegetable broth she had heated up earlier that day from her trenchcoat’s pocket. That’s right, the soup was the weapon. In truth, she’d been saving that for dinner, but sacrifices must be made. As if the dreamy aroma of a good “veg” stew had awoken something in the ill sample handler, he snatched the soup out of Pepsi’s flippers as soon as the thermos was opened. He protectively grasped it in his wings like a newborn. As if it were his soup. It’s not his soup. He mumbled a string of gibberish, as if uttering profanites at the detective. “Tumblebutts. Ain’t no room in this stable fer two horses. . . Gee thanks Twilight, couldn’t have done it without the magic of friendship!” He grumbled, In an instant, Snake snapped back into his pasta counting flowstate. Every seventh parcel, he’d drop into the thermos. “Snake? Hello?” The detective dared not prod the handler’s seemingly pointless work, so she just stood above him for a while, gazing in wonder at this utterly useless task. A few minutes of this had her bored out of her mind, so she exited the room and greeted the petite pigeon lady once again. “Ma’am, does Mr Snake err… count pasta often? He won’t talk to me.” “I’m afraid we do not have pasta. Are you sick, Miss detective?” “No, I’m not sick, please answer the question.” “Well, he’s usually quite talkative, most birds in our family are the nervous chatty sort. Snake has never shown interest in counting things. He hasn’t talked to me ever since he was sent home. I’m terribly worried for his health.” “Thank you, ma’am.” The detective concluded that she’d extracted all the info she needed at this time. She left the cushy house shortly after. Pepsi scrawled a few observations down on her stickied notepad. Personality abberation No signs of fever Buy extra broth 2nite Not violent She would have to purchase more soup— oh, I mean relay these symptoms to her fellow birds when they met for dinner in the evening. River said something about getting some potato rolls down at The Grainsmith, but Pepsi would rather drink her soup. Dang, I can’t stop thinking about soup now. I’m in a soup brainstorm. A soupstorm… which is a real weather event that happens in Pennada by the way.PART 12:
It had begun to snow again. Evening on Eagla fell breezily onto the town. A chilling flurry had come swirling as the sun put on pajamas. Playful snowflakes blew around like laughing baby heads or something, and the lamps inside The Grainsmith lured three birds into its warmth. “How can you be sure nobody’s watching?” Temela glanced around the establishment wearily, blinking sleep from her eyes. River responded in an almost flippant manner. “Chillax man, I can always tell when someone’s hiding something. ‘Sides, that booth in the back is real private. Nobirdy can hear us there.” The parrot led them to a secluded table with tall seat backs that seemed to quiet the squawking of the crowd. At the very least they couldn’t be attacked here. Ever since the intruder pounced on Pepsi and Tem, they were sure the suspect would be watching from the shadows. The three began a very top secret discussion on the tricycle of jobs spun among them that day with River and Tem sharing potato rolls, and Pepsi hunched over a thermos of sweet “veg” soup. Pepsi detailed the events of her day, events of which we’ve already heard. “Tem? What’s the data on the suspect release papers?” “Hm well, I was able to look up one of the officer’s name in the database, and he was still in the area so we met up at the station. He said that he was just a messager of the release but he still had access to the papers. There were no prints, but he mentioned that he remembered reading about a case like this in his hometown newspaper years ago. That could be a vital lead. Maybe if we go there we could look through the files in their library and have a clue on who’s behind all this!” Pepsi’s face lit up with excitement, though it was hard to tell with her hat obscuring her eyes. “Is the town close? We could head there tomorrow if you guys can make it.” “As a matter of fact, it is! We could get this case solved in days if we knew who was behind it!” “Guys, I’m really sorry to burst your road-tripping bubbles, but I got a lead that might need us to stay here for tomorrow." River was the origin of this statement. “Well, a lead’s a lead! Tell us! Tell us!” It was Temela’s turn to light up as she said this. What is this, a light festival? River spoke, “So I used my crazy charms and the fact that I don’t look like a cop to get the Smerefs to let me into their house, and when I went to question Quail I asked a ton of questions. I got punched a couple times but then I asked: ‘where ya planning to strike next??’ In response to them landing a blow on my upper beak, and they went limp and said: ‘On the morrow, the old crow sings with the sun arisen.’ And then started screaming. I think they meant that the intruder’s gonna strike next tommorow night.” Tem and Pep’s faces, purple and curious, both contorted into expressions of deep thought. “On the morrow, the old crow sings in its bed.” The head detective echoed. Pepsi shoved a feather lock out of her face. “If we assume that this weird riddle means a time and a place like the one about a clock, then yes, the intruder might appear tommorow to commit some odd crime again.” “The part that confuses me is the part about the crow. Is it some kind of expression? I’m not sure how this can be a place.” Tem added, chewing a potato roll down to its starchy skeleton. “I dunno, there’s something familiar about that phrase… I think I remember hearing about a crow singing in a storybook from my childhood. I don’t remember the title, but it’s a semi-popular fable in the East.” Pepsi pondered, River pushed his red indoor sunglasses up on his beak. He approached this case with far more enthusiasm than he’d ever shown. “Ohhh I’ve heard of that! It’s the one where a farmer crow scares off the coal wolves with his gnarly singing!” “But what does that have to do with anything?” Pepsi gabbled as she glared wearily into her soup. The three were a tad stumped. What place could this possibly indicate? Without warning, the stout canary sat up straight with enlightenment and said: “That’s it! There’s a painting in the art gallery downtown that depicts the fable! Its really intriguing. We should camp there tomorrow morning. Take shifts ya know?” Pepsi responded, delighted that her friend could connect such a detail. “Since when have you attended art galleries?” The head detective found it hard to believe. “All the time! I heard it helps with seeing things in a different way!” Pepsi shifted in her seat as she ingested the rest of her glorious soup. “Alrighty. If we have any chance of catching this fella, we gotta take it. Tem, you lurk around the museum in the morning ‘till noon. I’ll go from noon to midnight?” “What do I do then?” River interjected, “Mmm, I guess you can stay at the station and do comms. If somebody catches the suspect, we’ll phone you, okay?” The other two nodded. Pepsi twisted her thermos shut, trapping the remaining soup inside to suffocate, satisfied with this restaurant meeting. Hopefully this time they were not being watched.PART 13: —
Picture the scene. It’s around 4:00AM in the morning, a bright feathered canary snoops around an art gallery for clues. She’d slept earlier last night to beat the sun rising, but a phantasmatic cloud of sleepiness still gripped onto her like an iron shackle. She hoped that she could chase after a certain culprit in such a state. Temela Stevas wore an inconspicuous pair of violet tinted shades and a white neck scarf to obscure her face. She had been treading circles around the building since the clock had stricken twelve. She wished that Eagla’s police force wasn’t so understaffed, maybe then she could’ve taken a nap soon after this slog. After maybe her fiftieth round around the gallery, she heard an odd scratching noise from the back. Strategically marching as one with the shadows, Tem hobbled to the back of the museum. A panel of glass was laid at her feet, and above it, an open window. To her horror, she’d have to break and enter. Tem prayed that she could bypass this trespass because of her status as a detective. Cautiously, Tem hoisted herself up to the small window. She tried not to be cut by the tiny spikes of glass remaining. This gallery has awful security, no alarms, no cameras, what will protect these pieces? Tem contemplated as beads of sweat started to form under her feathers. She finally squeezed through the tiny window silently. It was dark. Temela assumed she was in some kind of storage room. She could barely make out the silhouettes of paintings that weren’t up for display. Pepsi consulted the gallery owner right??? She questioned, icy adrenaline surging through her veins. She pulled out a flashlight from her coat of many pockets and flickered its light on. She scanned the room for any lingering sound or movement. Her wingtip hovered over the taser in her pocket as she moved to the next room. The exhibition room in front of the storage room was quiet as well, save for the wind battering on the gallery’s glass doors… or was it somebird trying to barge in? She was scared to look. The banging on the doors got louder as she inched closer. It was violent, throbbing like a heart. Tem shot the piercing light on the entrance. And outside the door, not a soul stood. Moving onto the main room now, the one that held the painting of the crow, Tem checked each artwork for any sign of spoilage. A soft buzz. Dang it. My flashlight. In her determined pursuit in waking up early, she’d forgotten to change the batteries. She probably had some lodged in one of her several pockets, but there were so many that it would take a few minutes to feel around for them. The wind fell silent as she desperately tried to dig out the energy capsules. Sweat was now rolling down her face by the pint. The dank gallery’s paintings watched her through the blackness. The only light now was the curving moonlight casting long eerie shadows all across the room. The only sound was Temela’s racing heartbeat. Wait, no. Two heartbeats. Before she could register, a figure in a black hoodie lunged from the darkness and punched her lights out. Tem collapsed onto the floor from the blow to her stomach, gasping to regain her breath. The next couple of minutes were a dizzying blur. By the time Tem had gotten up, the intruder had already smashed the glass door and was making a run for it. She booked it after the phantom-ish blur, glass shards caught in her boots as she scaled the streets, wide eyed, wind cutting her cheeks. The suspect was so fast there was no way Temela’s legs could carry her fast enough. She ripped her walkie talkie from her front pocket as she ran and tried to keep her eyes on the suspect as she rasped into the transmitter. “RIVER! Wake up! THE SUSPECT IS ON THE LOOSE… ON TABBY AVENUE! HEADING ON URSA MAJOR BEND” A voice on the other end yelled back. “Don’t worry! I’ll try to cut them off with the car!” River was on the other end of the receiver. Hopefully they'll get here fast. Soon the intruder would turn a corner and probably disappear again. Maybe forever. But Temela had to try. She kept sprinting after the black hooded bird, feet burning as they punched dents into the concrete. The wind was howling in her ears now. The cold, competing to overtake the heat building in her chest. Any moment now her lungs could betray her, but she must carry on. Just as the suspect turned onto Ursa Major, Temela saw the blaring red and blue of cop car lights flooding the street. The car skidded to a rough stop, blocking the road. “Stop! You’re under arrest dude!” A familiar voice echoed through the street as the intruder was forced to stop in their tracks. Temela gained on them and blocked the other way out. An alert Pepsi Kola pinned the suspect down before they could run or attack, their tail feathers sticking out like knives pointed at the detective’s throat. River followed, successfully putting the suspect in handcuffs and ushering them into the car’s backseat. They screamed and struggled to no avail. “Don’t holler dude, anything you say… can be used against you in court and crap.” River yawned, Temela was positively pooped from running so fast. Her legs buckled and she was dizzy to pieces. “Tem, are you okay?” Pepsi asked, helping her friend up from her tiredness. Temela wheezed and gave a small nod. Pepsi notified the cop Leslie, to secure the scene. Make sure nothing’s been tampered with. River and Tem hopped into the front seats of the car, lights still washing over the buildings. Pepsi sat a seat away from the intruder. Uncomfortably close, but they couldn’t try anything now. The creation of raggedy skid marks on the asphalt was heard as the cop car ducked backwards and hit a fire hydrant. It hightailed its way as quick as the howling wind down Ursa Major Bend. “Where the hell did you get your license, River??!” Pepsi yelped as her head hit the back of the car seat headrest. “I didn’t! Those driving instructors all wanna dampen my spark!” River put two feet on the gas pedal and probably broke several traffic laws on the way back to station 12, speeding past amber streetlights. One swift and hazardous ride later, the suspect was taken into the questioning room. They’d caught the bird so early in the morning that no higherups could get to them in time to release them. The lone lightbulb hung dimly in the dust lined questioning room. It watched the following events unfold with its watchful light-bulbous eye. Pepsi immediately yanked off the suspect's hood, which had previously been cloaked in shadow. The identity of this fruit lacing miscreant was finally revealed. Pepsi gasped. “Quail?!”PART 14: —
Pepsi had had her suspicions previously, but seeing it right in front of her wide penguin eyes was jarring. Quail Smeref was the fruit lacer. Quail Smeref was the criminal. Quail Smeref was the culprit. Quail Smeref was… whatever other synonyms there are for culprit. Pepsi Kola quickly recaptured her runaway composure and drew a breath. “Hello, I believe we’ve met before, Quail Smeref.” The suspect lifted their head in perplexity. They could not wriggle out of the iron handcuffs that anchored them to their position. They snarled. “Who is this darndest Quail Smeref? I only ‘spond to the name Flare Misque, horselick.” Their words were shockingly clear, clearer than they’d ever been in previous encounters. Flare Misque? What was this bird on about? It was not a name Pepsi had ever heard before, but it sounded familiar. “You must be mistaken, unless you have a twin, you are Quail Smeref. You look and sound the same, not to mention your behavior matches that of the beanbird affected by a strange, mind-scrambling illness.” “No, I am Flare Misque. You can’t prove anythin’, I says!” “Can you spell it out for me?” Tem jumped in, producing a petite notepad devoid of stickiness. “Righty. ‘Tis F-L-A-R-E SPACE.. M-I-S-Q-U-E!” The suspect seemed satisfied with this answer. “Flare Misque. Huh. This name seems to have the same letters as those in the name Quail Smeref. Are you sure you are not that beanbird?” Temela brought a primary feather to her beak, thoughtfully trying to decipher this beanbird’s motive. “Yes! No doubt, buster.” “Okay, Flare Misque, what were you doing breaking into the art gallery before opening times? You sure don’t work there since ya broke a window.” Pepsi interjected. “Nothin’! nothing I say! Proof is near and far!” “Well, Officer Leslie phoned me on the car ride explaining that somebird drew an unflattering mustache on a central painting of the museum. You are saying that you did not do that?” Pepsi would surely request an interview with the museum curator soon to get the full picture, but right now she wasn’t sure if she’d ever see this silver-tailed suspect again. Not if the higherups got to her. “Ergh! Of course I did that! Anyone would! It’s only natural!” “So you admit to breaking into the gallery on Tabby Avenue?” “Yes… No!” Pepsi scribbled at lightning speed, attempting to hide her inherent confusion. (FAIL) “Flare Misque, where were you five nights ago?” Temela picked up where Pepsicle left off. She wanted to know where this bird was when the town hall fruit lacing occurred. Silver feathers like knives. No other bird in this tiny, snoozin’ town had tail feathers like theirs, not even their parents. “At Freddy’s. Two licks down from Snoretown.” Flare Misque said this with utmost certainty, though the words uttered meant nothing. Nothing at all to the small huddle of law enforcement standing before the beanbird. “Ah. Okay. I have never heard of this “Snoretown,” where is this establishment exactly?” Temela could not find any good meaning within this alibi. She knew this area like the back of her wing. Unless Flare Misque was someone who miraculously looked and acted exactly like Quail Smeref, this could not be backed up. “Flare Misque, I will put this into the most blunt terms I can. We believe that you were the one that broke into Eagla’s research facility and placed laced fruits. Overwhelming evidence points towards your guilt, Smeref.” “Yeah, that t’was me, sweet pal-eontologist!” The frigid air froze further around the four birds inside Eagla’s questioning room, like a tight, snaking weed that clung stubbornly around their necks. Tem counted lingering dust specks cascading down from luminance of the lightous bulb, trying to make sense of it all. After the suspect was so adamant on avoiding the cops, why would they confess to this crime so casually? Was it all a set up? Some sinister ploy in Flare Misque’s elaborate scheme? Was this beanbird truly a villain? Or were they a pawn. Finally, Pepsi broke this awful silence. “Flare Misque, are you absolutely sure you committed the fruit lacings?” The question sounded silly. Really. Pepsi maintained hard eye contact with the captured suspect (to her own discomfort), studying their expressions. “Why this switch up all’ve a sudden!! I’m the fruit lacer! Hahaha! I did everything! Are you try’n to take my credit, horsey?” And yet, Pepsi couldn’t believe it. The face, the same face she had seen on Quail Smeref’s Penstagram profile, the same large, dilated eyes she’d come face to face with in their room, the same tail that swung sharp like knives. Quail Smeref didn’t have any siblings. Flare Misque and Quail Smeref were no doubt the same bird. Even the name Flare Misque was an obvious anagram for Quail Smeref! Why would they go through all the trouble of breaking into a laboratory and museum, just to use a crappy code-name after getting jailed? She repeated her question. “Flare Misque, were you… yourself … when you broke into Eagla Labs?" The suspect lifted their head. But only a little. Pepsi could see now that deep bruisy eyebags hung under the bird’s eyes. They were a bit puffy, like they’d been tainted with salt. It seemed that the utterance of the question broke something within Flare Misque, as the next words that came out of their mouth were strained like a broken violin. “Why wouldn’t…. I – be… my— self…!” Quail Smeref’s eyes were wet at the corners, they glittered in the dim room for just a second, like fireflies flashing for just a second in a misty bog. They were red like they were about to cry. Why wouldn’t I be myself? The head detective turned the words over in her head. The tone was insincere, she could hear the lack of direction that the sentence held. They were going on a train to nowhere. Flare Misque is lying. Why would they confess then lie about a matter like this? Were they being forced to? And by whom? The confession to placing laced fruits was said so confidently. Why this break in demeanor all of a sudden? What are you getting at, Quail Smeref? In an instant, as if someone had flicked a metal switch inside the beanbird, Flare Misque’s speech became like a writhing spider again. They foamed at the mouth, eyes large as dead planets. Flare Misque or Quail Smeref, both were lost to them at this moment.PART 15:
The three investigators stood watching the suspect through the window of the questioning room. Pulling her winter’s trenchcoat over her bird-ly shoulders, Detective Pepsi decided it was best to conclude the interrogation, as the sun was creasing the mist in silver streaks and who knew how long it’d be until the suspect would wriggle their way out from the grasp of Eagla Police Department again. Ah yes, the police. Temela mentioned in their chat at the Grainsmith’s that the higher-up with the papers she’d tracked down might’ve had an actual non-garbage lead about the case! Tem said he’d mentioned a town with a similar story… not too far from here. But who would watch the suspect? She didn’t trust anyone but herself to watch over the brooding figure sitting in the questioning chair. Tem would probably give them up to the higherups if provoked, and River? Let’s not get into that. “Take them with us??” Temela tried to cover her shout in a layer of quiet. “It’s the best course of action. Our police force is too understaffed to bear the danger if this rogue fruit lacer gets out. Unfortunately, we are the only capable birds, besides the no-show Penny Timberwake, to be ensuring the suspect remains in custody.” “Can we not just lock ‘em up? Isn’t it safer for this one to be in a cell then the back of some easy-to-bust-out-of-ride?” River gestured a long wing towards Flare Misque, whose head was obscured in gross shadows. “Worry not, there’s another good reason for taking them. I just… I can’t tell you yet, you just gotta trust me.” avowed dear Pepsi, deciding to be brooding and mysterious. Temela spoke: “Miss Kola, I’ve been trusting you as long as this case has been going on. Please just tell us. I simply cannot allow you doing whatever you want for the sake of the investigation. We need to be a team. I need you to trust me too.” Her words were almost tender, breaking her professional facade that was rarely broken this early in the morning. Pepsi sighed, stuffing her sticky notepad into her satchel, already preparing to set off. She mumbled just loud enough for the two to hear: “Alright, but you’re not gonna like it…” For fun and mystery I will obscure her next words. Do not worry dear reader, you do not need to know. Apparently, the town the higherup mentioned to dear Temela was named Gospel. You’d think a place with a name like that would have a lot of newspapers right? I don’t know, I’m just making conversation… It turns out Gospel was an hour’s drive away! Due to there being four birds partaking on this asphalt-bound trip, one of them being a wanted felon, it was decided that River’s van was the best option. Nobody wants to sit in the back with a raging felony-commiter. River slammed the door of his conifer painted hippie van, pressed that Pepsi did not allow him to drive after last time. Star-Chaser, she was called. Painted upon the old thing were orange and mustard yellow bursts of flowers. It wore streaks of silver from previous wrecks like jewelry, or reminders. It had 3 rows of backseats. This would do. Up the foggy road they glid’, blasting rock music, a suspect locked away in the foreign lands of Star-Chaser’s back seat. Despite the upbeat tunes turned up so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think, a certain silent tension lingered between the four birds. Pepsi kept an eagle eye upon Flare Misque, who was constantly shuffling around in their seat, trying to break out of the dozen shoddy seatbelts that strapped them to their makeshift prison. Temela kept her eyes on the road, not once shaking, yet anyone could tell she held a ballooning breath in the back of her throat. River was riding shotgun, staring wistfully out of the van window as buildings turned to hills, and the gray corpse town of foggy Eagla was only a distant planet. And they? They were four birds lost in space.PART 16:
You will know it when you see it. That’s what the higher officer had said to Temela Stevas about Gospel’s largest public library. The town was larger than Eagla, prettier. A tourist town with historical buildings, laurel green metal fences, and old blank-walled churches carved out with stained glass eyes. The Gosling Public library was nestled between an elementary school and post office. A veranda leading to the library entrance with wisteria crowned pergolas stretched out before them. The building was magnificent compared to Eagla’s book keep. It had mahogany flavored roof tiles and a large circular stained glass window the sun hit just right. Inside there were two staircases leading up to a higher mezzanine or loft or whatever they’re called. River heaved a heavy sigh when Pepsi told him to stay in the van to watch over Flare Misque. She didn’t really trust him but she needed to be in the library to search for a potentially vital lead. Meandering among the walls stuffed full of books, a whirlwind of unanswered questions blew Pepsi’s mind off balance. Why was Quail acting the way they were? It was like raindrops flitting all around. Who released Flare Misque? Like hail chunks pelting her back. Drowning in a flood. Who is Flare Misque, truly? Too many questions to list buzzed around like impatient worker bees. Pepsi sucked up her rogue thoughts and approached the librarian behind the counter. She inquired about the existence of a city newspaper archive. The librarian showed the detectives to a secluded backroom behind the counter. The archive room was stacked high from wall to wall with papers from 1957 to present day. Pepsi waited for the librarian to leave before asking Temela, “Did the guy give you any dates at all? Any specific information?” “I tried asking but he said he did not say any exact dates. I did however get it out of him that he remembered seeing it when he was a kid. During my deductive small talk with the higher officer he told me he’d been a higher officer for around 5 years and he started at 27. He is 40 now.” “Ah, so we should start from around 1970 and work our way up from there?” “Precisely.” The two must’ve sifted through hundreds of newspapers from the Gospel Daily Herald and when desperate, the Gospel Gossip magazine. Temela broke the silence. “Ah, this looks quite interesting. ‘Local postman jailed for creating conspiracy cult’ Apparently when taken into custody, the suspect acted erratically in contrast to his usually calm and humble demeanor. He was not drunk, nor on laughing gas as the police originally thought. He went by a strange alias: Gilly Soose.” “Bingo! Hand me that paper.” Pepsi said like some kind of goofy and relatable cartoon protagonist, shoving back the sheet she was holding. She skimmed the article carefully. The victim of this sickness was a seabird, Puffin Stitchfeathers, that was the real name of the postman. He had started acting strangely to the dismay of his friends around April of 1985. He kept rambling about seven higher “silly” beings that would govern the “new world”. Whatever that meant. He committed several crimes after his change in demeanor leading to his arrest. Temela was standing beside the detective, waiting for her to finish reading. “Gilly Soose? Like Silly Goose? That old children's rhyme?” Pepsi scoffed. “Yeah, what kind of awful codename is that?” Pepsi started, out of habit, to recite the little yarn line by line. “Once t’was a boy call’d Silly Goose. He stole seven peaches from the silver trees, The farmer after, shook fast with unease. So he hung the boy by gold’n noose. Go on Silly Goose. Who will you steal from now? Go on Silly Goose. Who will hear you now?” “Such a weird little rhyme. Darker than I remember.” Temela mused. “Well, that aside, this article proves that our case is not completely unique. It wouldn’t be completely out of left field to say that these incidents are connected somehow. Better yet, maybe there are more cases like this. Perhaps they could give us more insight.” Pepsi rubbed her feather palms together nefariously, pleased that she would soon get to surf the web for clues. This is what she would do before playing minesweeper. They both seemed to decide that the best way to discover any further leads was to use keywords from this article to look up on the national newsletter archive, otherwise known as The Library of Digital Records (TLDR). The two detectives inched their way past the librarian’s counter and scrambled over to the wild pack of library computers by the mystery section. Fruit lacing, Flare Misque, what pizza topping are you? Take this short quiz. Those are the searches Pepperscicle tried first. Though, nothing came up, as she had already tried researching the case online back home. Temela worked vigorously, three giant tombs spread open on the table to reference. Gilly Soose, conspiracy cult, codenames, anagrams. All to not much avail. There were a couple wordwalls of interest that the two had set aside for further analysis, but none that stood out. At last, Pepsi found a bright and utmost gorgeous clue when she was looking through the results of the search Silly Goose, after the nursery rhyme or course. Strange Diary Revealed of a Mad Bird from the 1700s. Pepsi’s eyes grew large as she skimmed through its contents. A diary from somebody allegedly known as Beau Blankwing was found in an abandoned house from the 1700s. Its contents were strange and garbled. The article stated the journal details an organization by the name of The Silly Geese. Unfortunately, the majority of the ink is smudged from years of water-damage either that or it is completely incomprehensible. Pepsi shoveled through the walls of censored text shown in the image. ‘Silly Geese Silly Geese Silly Geese’ the words danced carelessly on the page like some kind of cruel joke against anyone who wished to decipher it. A link was placed at the bottom of the article: the full archive of this historic diary has been posted in full by the user HootsKahoots on his blog. “Tem, you gotta see this.” The detective murmured, compulsively crossing and uncrossing her legs as she leafed through page after page of supposed nonsense. Temela stood behind Pepsi’s chair now, furiously scribbling down the parts she thought important. The ones with ropes, they’re comin’ with the horses. So much dust, prickling weeds, prickling my skin. It’s stuck, yes, it’s stuck haha. Like me… in this limbo jail, please don’t turn me in, sheriff. Silly Geese Silly Geese Silly Geese. “Ms Kola? Do you see it? The patterns?” “I think I can. You mean the constant old west references? Surely that has some connection to Smeref, correct?” “Yes, that, but I feel like these words have an overarching plotline, though it’s hard to say. The strange writing style of its owner seemed almost parallel to the tattered mutterings of Quail Smeref. At the very end of this horrid journal, read this: With my last scrap of meaning to myself in this endless desert, please heed my words. There are four others. Four in this place. Four caught by the ones on horses, brains scorching, in this wasteland inside our bodies. From my research SILLY GEESE SILLY GEESE Their names will never leave me. No matter what you try. SILLY GEESE SILLY GEESE Sheriff Shoelick. Madam Luster. Vulpes. Salt Lick. The two glared with eyes like daggers into the bluelight. “‘The endless desert’? ‘Four others’? Perhaps the four words under it are names? I doubt these are real names. Anagrams maybe?” Temela fondled a button on her cardigan, if you could see the wrinkles in her brow they’d be deep as mud. “And what about the endless desert. Maybe that’s got some meaning to it. It kinda sounds like it’s supposed to be some twisted metaphor. Like being lost inside your own body? Lacking control.” Pepsi paused, then started again. “Y’know Tem, when we were in that room with Flare Misque, when we asked them if they were ‘themself’ during the break-in, it felt like they were holding something back. And in their room, when they were crying, . . . I don’t know. This conclusion seems outlandish, but maybe they were being controlled by something? A bizarre fungus, I’ve heard of cases like that.” “But fungi can’t make them perform specific actions like placing laced fruit in a facility or drawing a mustache on a painting. Based on the behavior we have observed, Quail Smeref is not insane. There was no catalyst for their transformation. They likely aren’t faking it either. Mind control is not a studied phenomenon, but that doesn’t rule it out as we now know of another who suffered similar symptoms. Now all we need is to look into these other goofy names and–” A scratchy voice on the quiet-speaker (it is mandatory that all libraries contain such instead of the more popular “loudspeaker). “Attention library patrons, the library is closing in five minutes. Get those books and scram!” “Aw Jeez, it’s 8 already? I skipped breakfast to get here bright and early.” Temela remarked, acknowledging now that she’d eaten nothing the whole day. “Better ‘take our books and scram’ then. We’ll get up tomorrow. I’ve got a feeling there’s a lot more stuff under this soil we’ve kicked up today.” And so two tomb-wielding detectives strolled out into the cricket tinged sounds of night in Gospel. Pepsi was right. This was just the tip of the iceberg.PART 17:
Bright and early is when the sun came up in Gospel. Pepsi hadn’t slept a lick as she was restlessly pondering her and Tem’s finds from the previous day. As the warm dawn came, the frazzled detective sat up straight as a board and whipped around to see if Flare Misque was still in the backseat of River’s van. Luckily, the thrashing beanbird remained in their seatbelt prison. “Urghh… maybe we should’ve stayed in a hotel. Could’ve written it off as a business expense.” Pepsi Kola shimmied out from under the blanket she’d brought from the police station. It had just occurred to her that she hadn’t slept in her own home for several nights. Did she leave the stove on? It was 7:00AM so the Gosling Public Library was not open yet. A certain flamboyant red parrot mumbled in his sleep about the apparent architectural wonder that was Gospel’s library. Yes, River had talked her Pep’s ear off yester-night about it. The old thing was nice looking, but it also apparently was the quietest library in Pennyland because of the soundproofing in the walls and angled walls. Never bring up the architectural soundness of Gosling Public Library to Pepsi. Never. Luckily, the birds were able to check out a few large reference materials just before closing. This will pass the time. The book Pepsi was particularly interested in was the one on obscure rare compounds, medicines, and flora. If her theory about the mind control on Quail Smeref was correct, this delicious clump of scientific literature could be the remedy to the same 20 questions that plagued the detective all these days. She skimmed through the dense contents for possibly forty nine minutes before finding a banned liquid compound called silly juice. The compound is a pink liquid harnessed from the rare Fenu plant. It had the unique and dangerous ability to make an individual follow another’s every command. The victim has to drink or have the liquid come in contact with their forehead. Then, silly juice turns the victim into a living puppet who can be easily manipulated with certain radio frequencies and sounds. The range that the victim can be controlled from is rather long so the “puppeteer” can be anywhere. When the victim is not being directly manipulated using radio waves, their speech will become garbled and incomprehensible. Silly juice was originally used to herd elusive cackling goats on the mountain range Chia a’ Fehn (Mountains of the Blessed), until it fell into the wrong wings and was later used for controlling the minds of birds. The last Fenu plant was thought to have been destroyed for good by the birds of Chia a’ Fehn. There is no known “cure” to the silly juice’s trance, as the destruction of the last plant halted any further scientific research. Pepsi gaped blankly at the page like a dumbfounded animal. The words she had read basically spelled the case she’d been working on out for her, served on a crispy page, the smell of textbook glue stinging her already red eyes. This was it. The reason for Quail’s sudden shift. The garbled speech. “Temela! Come see this! We mighta just cracked this hard boiled egg of a case!” Temela lifted her head from her backpack and climbed to perch on the cupholders between the van’s front seats. “Duuude, why do you guys always get up so early!” River joined the two in reading the textbook soon after making this complaint. A long beat of pure amazing silence passed between this minute and the next. Even the bird bound by seatbelts remained still. Temetha Stevas or whatever her name is, broke this moment finally. “This makes perfect sense! Perhaps Flare Misque has been mind controlled by someone all this time.” “But how do you know it’s somebird and not just local radio waves spewin’ nonsense?” River chimed, “Well, the highly specific actions of the fruit lacer were much too complicated to have been nonsense frequencies. Breaking into a secure facility? An art gallery? Nothing in known nature has the power to control someone to that extent. It has to be by an individual or group of them behind the curtains.” Pepsi somewhat concluded. “What still bugs me is why someone would do this. Why break into a research facility and place laced fruits with the intent of turning more birds into mindless sheep? Power? Money? How cruel that is. But even if the lab break in had a reason like that, what was the reason for the art gallery break in? No laced items were in there as Leslie reported.” Temela dipped her chin into the lavender expanse of her windbreaker. Pepsi gave a quick reply: “Hm, maybe there was a break-in at Eagla Labs because the controller wanted to halt the research for a cure to Quail Smeref’s sickness, maybe even make the researchers fear entering the facility in fear that they too will be infected. As for the art gallery, I’d say whoever’s behind this is testing the boundaries of their control. How far will the victim go? How much control over their actions can they exercise before the victim breaks? I’d say it is a cruel world, Temela.” River Redmane was quick to jump in. “So. . . we know this now, but how are we going to fix Quaily over there? Like. . . earplugs to block out those nasty western garble waves? Haha.” “I guess it’s worth a try.” Pepsi pulled out her comically large letter writing set from her satchel. She picked out two pieces of wax used for sealing. “This is all I got. If you guys have any better ideas, get back to me before Smeref bites my head off.” Pepsi cautiously got out of the van and reentered through the middle row. She folded the middlemost seat of the row and slowly inched into no-bird’s land where Quail Smeref clawed at their seat. Why do I always insist on doing these things? She thought. AAAARGH!! I’m sure that’s what Pepsi sounded like when Quail Smeref bit her nose. In an instant, Temela and River rushed to hold the beanbird down so Pepsi could block off their ears. The detective shook wildly as she inserted the first makeshift earplug into Quail’s ear. “Turn their head! I can’t get a good look on where their other earhole is!” Several lashes to our crew later, and Smeref finally held still long enough to get the piece of wax shoved in. Then, Quail went still. They went still for a long time. “Oh Bird Upstairs, are they dead??” Temela had her knees on the folded middle seat. But then Quail Smeref’s eyes started to move, slowly, surveying the unfamiliar interior around them. “. . . Where am I?” The simple phrase lingered in the air like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It was strange to hear Quail Smeref’s real voice.PART 18:
The wax had made excellent earplugs apparently, as the beanbird Quail Smeref could not hear a thing. Their voice was hoarse from screaming or crying, quiet, but kind of austere. Nothing like the blunt and angry tone of their involuntary persona. The pale feathered bird cautiously examined the three concerned birds before them. Quail narrowed their eyes briefly before having a terrible coughing fit. Wine-dark blood and crap came like crude oil out of their beak! How much screeching did they do under the influence of this substance anyway? “Hello, Smeref. Please stay calm. You’re not being kidnapped dude.” Pepsi quickly realized none of her mouth sounds were getting through to the dazed secretary due to their waxy ear pieces. She tried, instead, to scribble down the message she needed to communicate before the bird strapped in the back of a random car decided this was the only chance at escape. Stay calm. What is your name? Do you remember anything? What day is it? Quail Smeref stared at the stickied note held before them. A pause, then a struggle, as they reached a wing out from under the cocoon of seatbelts. Their handwriting was remarkably neat. Four minutes passed as Quail wrote. The Eagla Police gathered ‘round. Her letter to the three birds was as follows: First of all, are you of the Eagla Police Dept? I’ve seen you around for sure. My name is Quail Smeref. Next, regrettably, the last thing I recall is drinking an odd substance my new co-worker gave me. He said it was juice. I love juice. It was night when I drank it, at least I think it was. Last I remember, it was January 1st of 2013. I normally wouldn’t make stupid decisions like that, but the romance of the New Year’s whim caught me in a trance. Also, can you untie me? My voice is too hoarse to request anything out loud. Pepsi considered this for a scomble. Juice? Like Silly Juice? Likely that was the cause of Quail’s strange behavior these past weeks, but now there was a possibly trackable fiend behind this scrambling of one’s mind. She scribbled another succinct response, though, she was already growing tired of this manner of communication: You’re right. We’re cops. We can lift the seatbelts, but you have to be supervised. You’ve garnered quite the criminal record since your supposed period of memory loss! *flippant winky face* Also, we shud find a bettr way to communicate. This is a drag. Do not under any circumstances take out those ear plugs. For the safety of everybird here. Whilst Smeref processed the bombshell dropped directly on their fuzzy skull, Pepsi and Co tried to find an alternative way of communication. Perhaps this would also lead to discovering a cure to Silly Juice’s effects. “To truly get rid of all those nasty radio waves we’d have to shut down all radio stations from who knows where or what radius. . . or create a vacuum in which radio waves can’t reach them. But that’s practically infeasible.” Pondered Pepsi, glancing down at her watch. “Dude… the library!” River Redmane lit up like there was some kind of figurative lightbulb flashing over his head. “You might just be onto something. The library has some kind of soundproofin’ architecture doesn’t it? You wouldn’t shut up about it! Redmane, you’ve actually proven yourself a competent bird two times today! I could almost consider you a real cop!” Pepsi scoffed a little after this remark, but it's the thought that counts. “Yes, perhaps if we bring Quail to the newspaper archive, there’s a chance they can remain in their truly conscious state without earplugs!” Pepsi simply communicated a “follow me” through bodily gestures after cautiously unbinding a weary Quail Smeref from their seatbelted prison. As they led the bird formerly known as a fruit lacer, a suspect, into the recently opened library doors, Pepsi gave a token glance at the distraught beanbird. For a second their eyes met and what she saw looking back was not a master criminal, just a bird’s. The four birds gave a greeting to the sluggish librarian who ran this suspiciously early opening establishment, then made their way to the dusty archives of Gospel. Temela made sure to barricade the door so if Quail went rogue again, they’d have enough time to dial for backup. “‘Kay, here goes. . . Can’t believe I keep putting myself in situations where I get socked in the gut.” Out came the red and green seal wax buds. Quail did not stir. Thank the bird upstairs! Pepsi was the first to speak. “Smeref, we have a lot of questions, and I’m sure you do too. We have reason to believe you were under the influence of a dangerous mind controlling substance. Though, we cannot rule out the possibility that you were faking this senseless state. If you are guilty, there will be harsh consequences for your actions. If you are a victim, then all I can say to you is. . . I’m sorry.”PART 19:
The weary Quail Smeref was surprisingly quiet for a long time. Just listening. As if all their unanswered questions did not exist. Temela Stevas had the best memory out of them all, so she explained in great detail the strange pile of events that occurred in the past weeks, stacked haphazardly like moving boxes. It was all so bizarre it’d make your head spin, yet Quail Smeref listened intently, as if being given a college lecture. But during college lectures you usually don’t wear an expression as focused and grim as Quail’s. “I… was being controlled? By whom? And why? I cannot go outside or the effects of the substance you describe will return. I saw that we are not in Eagla. Will I go home? Am I even safe within it anymore? What’s a fate worse than. . .” Quail trailed off. They clenched their fists. Teeth grinding, something between anger and terror shot like a metal spike through their ribs. It was all terrible. Their face was wet again. “We don’t know who was behind the poisoning, but it was likely a group of individuals known as the Silly Geese. You may have been just one of their wicked experiments conducted throughout history. I theorize if you install soundproofing in your place of residence, you will be safe within its confines. We are working with Eagla Laboratories to find a cure for your case.” “For now, we must head home. I’m sure the researchers at Eagla Labs will appreciate this new information. Come, we must be on our way, as River’s parking spot expired about seven hours ago.” Temela concluded that it was time to head for the road once more, so Quail popped the wax back in. The four stepped out into the dawn’s late rays, a silver breeze ran in the air, but it was no longer spine chilling, but comforting somehow. It hugged the railing frost and swelled, drawing flocks of wayward leaves up high high up. So they fired up the engines of River’s Star-chaser again and set off. The trip back to Eagla was silent. Though the root cause of Quail’s silliness was solved, thus closing the case of Flare Misque, a choking uncertainty still lingered like smoke. They still didn’t know who the Silly Geese were. Would there be more cases like this in the future? Worse ones they’d be. Pepsi was sure of that. Four hours slipped by sleepily and at last the crew arrived in Eagla. Since the threat of a rogue suspect loitering around town was now largely put at rest, the birds of the Eagla Police looked forward to sleeping in their own homes again. Pepsi pulled the van into the parking lot next to the police station. Fog still leaped from behind skinny trunks, though now, the birch tree branches outstretched like veins bore a few golden leaves. They escorted Quail Smeref into the building to clarify some things as well as make a few calls. Perhaps with what they learned, Eagla Labs could magic together a cure to the silly juice’s effects. After the most obvious of work was finished, Quail and River headed to the lounge. Pepsi and Tem took a turn to Pep’s office. It was just as she’d left it: messy and terrible. But it smelled nice. It was awfully chilly but nobody bothered to turn the heat on. They just sat across from each other at Pepsi’s desk. It was over. The worst of the storm had passed and now all that remained was the wind and dancing petrichor. “I’ve been thinking about moving to the city.” The words were sudden, but not like clattering dishes, more like the ring of a bell. Pepsi refused to make eye contact with the canary who sat before her. A beat of silence, then, “I’m sorry but I’m afraid I do not understand. You want to move to the city?” “Yeah. Timberwake told me he’d give me the funds to expand my career if I solved this case. Said I could move to the city, more opportunities y’know? Maybe one day I can even tackle the case of the Silly Geese. The city is calling me, man.” “Ah, I understand. Well, if you do decide to leave, I’ll be sure to visit you.” Tem’s demeanor was solemn, she twiddled her feathered thumbs and shifted slowly in her seat. “That’s it?” The change in tone startled Temela. “You’re just gonna accept it? You’ve been my partner in crime… er well… law for who knows how long and you just. . . I don’t know if I can do it without you. . .” She hesitated. “What I’m trying to say is. . .I want you to come with me.” “I would love to Ms. Kola, but I’ve got things I cannot possibly leave behind here. I know you and I know that you can do this without someone like me.” Temela gave a melancholic smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ”This is where I belong, you, you are destined for more.” Pepsi took a shaky breath. “But that’s not true! You were always the better analyst. You have my skills ten-fold! Why can’t you see that! You’re the one that deserves this opportunity.” “Yes, it is true I have a particular talent in evidence analysis, but you have a gift far more valuable. You are brave Pepsi, impulsive at times but at your core, you are brave. I don’t think I could ever do the things you’ve done. You deserve to be happy.” The detective gazed down at her desk, it felt like the knobs of wood texture swirled and twisted. “I’ve been planning to leave for a while now. I just wanted to say thank you for being the radiant ray you are. Thank you for trusting me even when I violated your beliefs.” The gesture was sudden. Golden feathered arms reached over her desk to the distraught detective and wrapped around her, warm as the midday sun. A hug. She felt something in her stomach twist, her whole body swelled like a balloon, with this tingling warmth. What was it? Friendship? It’d been a long time since she’d smiled like this. She buried her face in her colleague’s shoulder. “Never change, Temela. I promise I’ll make it up to you someday.” She was whispering now, “Someday.” – – –EPILOGUE: (the following words are a digital transcription of a letter Pepsi wrote several months later to her brother after she moved to Applebeak to further her sleuthing career. The Pennyland Weekly Team was able to get permission to share this touching letter.)
Dear Can-can Kola,Greetings, I haven’t written to you in a while and much has happened since we last spoke. You can rest easy, that grody Flare Misque Case is closed. However, I am doing more research into this group of individuals that seem to play a part in it. The Silly Geese (that’s their cult-ish name). They were likely the ones behind a couple other mind control related schemes throughout history. Their previous victims all showed a tendency to spew old west movie lines and changed their names to some idiotic bull like “Gilly Soose”. I think they were just testing how far they could go with this control though. I’ve been keeping a keen eagle eye on all weird happenings in Pennyland ever since. It’s a tremendous workload on top of the regular casework I take on, but I believe that it’s better to be safe than sorry. We were also able to drop Quail’s legal charges for the most part after the case conclusion. They must complete like 7 hours of community service now, but… still better than getting thrown in the slammer for something they didn’t actually do.
The folks at Eagla Labs are still working on a cure. For now, it is too dangerous for Quail to leave their house (which was soundproofed after the case’s conclusion). A researcher at Eagla Labs checks in on them every once in a while. Mostly to keep them company. It’s a terrible shame they cannot leave their house. I hope we can find a remedy soon. I played a couple chess matches with them before I left, you know? They’re a worthy opponent. That researcher Redgie Snake has also been quarantined to his house. The effects of the silliness on him seem to be milder, perhaps they will even wear off completely in time. We can only hope.
Tem hasn’t visited me since I left, she’s got a lot of work in her wings. After the shock The Flare Misque Case waved through the Eagla townsfolk, a couple new officers completed training and joined the force. We They are slightly less understaffed now. On a nicer note, the city’s been great actually. It’s incredibly stressful establishing a business here, but I have (reasonably) high hopes for the future.
How are things in Puffinton? I will come visit if possible.
Your sister, Pepsi Kola
Postscript: Penny Timberwake (my former chief) finally came out of his little hobbit hole. He just showed up to the station the day we closed the case and announced: “I solved the case!” What a nutcase.
Post-Postscript: I appreciate you. Just wanted you to know.
