You demanded it- she’s back. Witness the Plight of Fancy!
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By David C. Daoust
Willian Fossick, Jr. was said to be the son, and heir-apparent, of the legendary detective of the same name. His ‘father’ had scoured the Onion for its mysteries- and made a pretty penny doing so. That is of course before his luck ran out, found himself on the wrong side of a deadly lesson; a lesson he never truly got the chance to learn from.
His long-time partner/murderess, the Aspirant named Fancy, however, had many a year to learn from her actions. Years spent locked away from her real-world body- instead inhabiting the farwall of one Annabeth March, who was, in fact, the murdered detective’s sister.
Fact is, the rest of the Onion thought Fancy had been destroyed for her deed. Annabeth could not bring herself to do so. Not for any love of the Aspirant itself, Annabeth believed Fancy truly did have feelings for her brother, she decided to make her live with the knowledge that she’d murdered him. Annabeth put simply: destroying ‘it’, was letting it off too light.
Which is how Fancy found herself locked within a private cell within Annabeth’s home for so many years. A home Annabeth only managed to pay for, with the money awarded for suing the ‘Janes’ for their part in her brother’s grisly end. (The Janes were the Arkroy Family that had gifted the Aspirant to Willian to begin with.) Truth was, Annabeth was a bit more conniving than most- she, however, did not live for very long.
Annabeth had one son; His given name was Nicholas March. He had spent his young years witnessing the Plight of Fancy. Fancy and the boy had grown close over the years- and of course, Nick was never told of the horrible situation that got the seemingly benevolent Aspirant locked up in their sitting room. Not while he was young anyway, by the time Nicholas learned the truth, Fancy was his only family… So much so, that it was Nick that actually got her a new real-world body. In fact, freed her from her imprisonment. The new form did not have all the bells and whistles of her old Aspirant form, but she welcomed it, compared to the virtual life she was trapped in seclusion with- it was a dream come true. To any that may witness her, they would only see a standard bot, not a notorious murderer/Aspirant.
The two lived off the pile of cash earned by the generation before; ‘Lived’ to Nick March had a lot more to do with gambling than most would include.
Nick always had a pile of excuses, but Fancy knew where the money was going. It was just a matter of time until Nick’s lifestyle would be compromised, just a matter of time ‘til he and Fancy both, were threatened by the lack of an actual income. Especially as the Trade Consortium seemed to sprout up around them; like Vampires, they’d sink their teeth into any open vein– so Nick claimed.
They needed more money, they needed to reopen for business. Thus, Nick March, became Willian Fossick, Jr. the Mediocre Detective. Hand in hand with his more experienced partner, Fancy, he used his uncles good name to drum up clients from all over the Onion. His success rate was not quite that of his namesakes, but the name carried weight, and Fancy did most of the heavy lifting. As she had for their most recent case: ‘the case of the missing Stunt-bot.’
Fancy’s investigation had led them both to Twin Crown- the new ‘Willian Fossick’, trailing behind, trying to lug all their luggage with them. Nick, all the while, Fancy was sure (because he kept making wise cracks about it), wondered what an Aspirant would need to pack for such a trip.
It was a long trip to Twin Crown- a lot of time to spend on a tiny transport ship. It did not help that, upon their arrival they were not allowed to make moonfall. They were actually stuck within one of the small space stations, orbiting the moon, while the local government worked out their issues.
The pair of sleuths had only arrived within the Starport, moments before, when Fancy spotted the shiny badge attached to the local Sheriff as he stomped through the lower levels of the surrounding structure, to cut through the landing area, followed by a pair of citizens- one, strangely, lugging an oversized plasma cutter- on their way to… Fancy could only wonder.
She knew they needed to check in with the local law-enforcement though… that is, if she wanted to continue on the investigation, unhindered.
“Hurry up, would you?” Fancy gestured impatiently to Nick as she led them, not out of the Starport, but further in.
“What are we doing now? How did I get this job?” Nick griped as he tried to move at more than a snail’s pace, despite being bogged down by ridiculousness.
Fancy was used to his antics; she knew it was her own fault for spoiling him so much when he was young. He was a lot cuter back then- not that she’d ever tell him that.
“I thought you were the one that was supposed to do all the heavy lifting?” Nick queried as he just let one of the bags drop to the floor.
“Not that kind of heavy lifting, silly boy,” she tapped her skull, indicating her brain.
“That’s not where your data-sphere is and we both know it,” Nick scoffed, deliberately going for the laugh as he managed to get the dropped bag, back up under his arm.
“Yes, well, you know what I mean,” she said as she gestured to one of the carts left out, about the Starport, to solve his very problem.
“Ooooh!” His demeanor changed with the sight. Nick, suddenly a juggling master, managed to shift all their bags over and drop them onto the hovering flatbed of said cart, all in one seemingly fluid movement.
“So, where are we going?” Nick pestered, happily pushing the device forward.
“I want to catch the sheriff. If we can check in now- we’ll get things back in gear,” Fancy said, then explained, “Thanks to the delay, our clients are already losing their endearment to our company…”
“Well, I am sure, if anyone can keep them in love with Willian Fossick Investigations, it’s you!” Nick said, not bothering to notice how close he came to a real button.
“You, of all people, should know, I don’t always appreciate jokes…” Fancy retorted, not really threatening so much, as just tossing out what she was exactly- as she was wont to do from time to time.
“Oh, come on now!” Nick, never one to fear her, posed, “Haven’t you ever heard? There’s always a little bit of truth in every joke.”
“What? No. No, I never heard that. What?” Fancy froze as the idea sunk into her programming, “That’s not true… Wait, why would you even say that??”
“Come on,” Nick suddenly pushed past her, “We’re going to have to really move- if we want to catch up with that sheriff!”
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