It was a summer noon like any other, me sitting in my crappy office chair drinking some ice-cold cola, reading todays paper, specifically the comic section, but that's not the important part. "Knock Knock" the door to my office said as my partner and longtime friend Peir walks through, sweat dripping down his face, "Dude, your vans just been stolen!", I drop my cola, shattering the glass, and my mind. the world seemed to be a bit darker without my van, the chief said I should sit this one out, kept sayin I was too close to the case, I knew he was right, but I was never going to listen to him, we all knew that. the tire marks of my home on wheels, driving away from the safety of the police parking lot, witnesses kept saying i was the one that got in the van, wouldn't be too hard to fake my looks, I wear a crusader helmet after all.

With my wheels stolen we had to do it the old-fashioned way, maybe I should lay off the soda, "So, Peir, we need to get a list of suspects, the usuals I bet.", I look at my map, thank God I had a spare in my office, and I look at where we could find our first suspects, Hellfire and his dame the Toaster. They were busted back 6 years for smuggling foreign sentient appliances, drunk Russian microwaves, yappy Chinese fridges, the whole mix. turns out they had been running a speak easy, the cops knew of this, of course, they get free booze if they keep their mouths shut, the same basic crook cops and the same basic illegal alcohol makers. I open the door, gangsters littered the bar, thinking back I was lucky I still had my chest hole free. I say to the barkeep, "Listen, pal, I'm looking for the owners, and I know they are here." he stays silent, looking over at some armed mobsters, typical gangsters, no talk, all bite. "Hey hey hey, I mean no harm to you, but I know that Mr. Fire is here, I can hear the jazz.". He looks over and one of the gangster's nods to him, he pulls a lever, a bookshelf spins revealing a nice lounge. Lucky me, I had the easy way out. We walk in and the door closes behind us, "Maybe I'm not so lucky", I think to myself hearing Milk scream as the talking toaster hits his back, me and Peir pull our revolvers on him. he drops the toaster and puts his hands up, "Wait, I thought you were the Alphabets!" he yelps out as Peir cuffs him, "Get your mitts of my man, Skinny!" the dame barks at us as Milk picks her up.The mobsters disperse as the cops show up, taking the perps down for questioning was easier than I thought. "So, detective, been awhile, whadya trying to put me away for this time.", I slam my fists down on the table, the wind pushing the crime scene photos to him. "MY VAN YOU SMUG ASS, WHY DID YOU TAKE IT!", Peir rushes into the room, taking me out, the chief didn't look happy. he grabs my coats collar, "Daboi, your too close to this one, I can't let you work on it. Me and my boys have it under control, take a break, but if I see you even look at pictures of your car, your Donzo!". he lets go of my coat, and I walk out of the precinct, maybe I have been taking this case to close to home, but how was I not, I literally live in the stolen vehicle. I walk, thinking, thinking of the case, thinking of where I am to go from here, thinking of where to live while those idiots try and find my van. I walk to the nearest bus stop, then a payphone rings.I walk under the payphone booth; a rain starts pouring down on me. The water hitting my exposed back, I pick up the phone, "So, you wanna know where your car is.", a deep voice said from the other side, country accent and all, "What do you know, prick, where is my van!" I scream into the phone. "Calm down, detective, I never stole your van, but I have evidence that could help you, though, from what my moles say, you have just been suspended.", the man said while the sounds of someone smoking come from the other side of the speaker. After he gave me the address, I go and get Peir's old Nash Ambassador. the drive there was deafening, honestly, I didn't know where I was going, with my life, not the road, I had been to this address once before. Pulling in, I see a large, abandoned camp, well I didn't look abandoned, there were rusty beaters and rat rods everywhere, I pull into an open spot and walk towards the mess hall, the lights shining through the windows like a television. I open the front door and I'm greeted my men in suits, all armed, before any of the men can kill me though, the same deep voice puts his arm around my shoulder. "Detective, glad you can make it, if in going to be honest with you, I thought you would have brought the whole brigade!", I stare at him blankly. I look at the man who just saved my life, "If it isn't Mr. Abc, the alphabet mobster himself." I say while he hands me a cup of cola and mixed fireball, the way I like it. We make our way to the second-floor office, where he does the planning, and we sit down on the nice leather couch, Scooby-Doo playing on the TV, can't believe I was missing my favorite show for this. He turns to me and says, "Detective, never thought we would ever sit in the same room together and still be moving", I could tell he was stalling, but for what, he was nervous, really nervous, either I was just poisoned, or he had bad news for me, "Spit it out, mobby, I have to find a friends couch to crash on in the mornin." He turns to the table in front of us and grabs a folder that had been sitting there and opens it, to my disbelief, it had been my own partner that had backstabbed me, pictures of him putting on the helmet and driving away in my van, I couldn't believe this. On the last few pictures, i showed him taking all my stuff out and pushing my beloved van, into the deep blue.