#noir
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The Path to Pacifism: a Noir Chapter One DETECTIVE INSPECTOR RESIGNS AFTER A GRUESOME MURDER CASE!!! Since the events that had transpired with the “Fruit Killer”, D.I. Wheatland had stepped down; declaring a life of solitude. When asked by the press of his decision, the detective inspector had retorted: “The price of keeping order is that people are naturally contrary.” Omari gazed at that tattered news article in his calloused hands. He didn’t often like to remember - or acknowledge - when it all began to domino in his life, but every man reaches that stage when looking into the abyss is easier than climbing out of it. He acknowledged that he once fell in love, he remembered the family he held dear - but the first event, the Case of the Fruit Killer, required complete recollection… He…was the first domino! That case had been specifically to examine him; what made Omari tick. Naturally, any man, woman and any thereupon would deteriorate under such conditions - the discovery of his parents corpses, in disgusting positions on his longue sofa - but what that case had also revealed, Omari recalled, was what stemmed from that psychological curiosity the Fruit Killer must’ve had. Unprocessed anger… Unbridled lust… Negligence… Prejudice… Then there was the outlier: the survivor of what Omari Wheatland held dear. Perhaps that was intentional, that Malachi survived. Perhaps it was pure dumb luck…? No….it was intentional. Malachi Satterthwaite was his partner in more ways than one. They were two inspectors with respective contributions against crime - but behind closed doors - ‘We were inseparable…’ Omari murmured under his breath. He looked at the photograph that corresponded with the Fruit Killer events; Malachi shaking Omari’s hand. To the public, that was their farewell. But in private, well, that’s where it was complicated… ‘We really were.’ He assured himself, despite the pain. ‘Maybe once…’ a distant, inflamed voice said behind his apartment door. Despite their presence being known, they banged - LOUDLY - with the door knocker. Taken aback, Omari slid backwards on his deck chair and lost his balance. He leant, as he gripped onto his armrests. He knew that voice from anywhere…. Omari searched his pockets. frantically, for matches. When he had retrieved them (despite the objection of his stabbing house keys,) he opened the tray of the match box - and gripped to the nearest stick. He scraped it on the box, heard it scorching - and dropped it on the newspaper… ‘I know you’re here, Wheatland…’ The raspy voice proclaimed. He banged once more. ‘Will you come quietly?’ Omari ignored them and relished history disappearing before him; remaining, he hoped, where it came from… He heard the bangs - but ignored them. Gradually, but surely, he took it out - with the wine he had saved on his kitchen counter. It sizzled, but all the same, Omari enjoyed it die… He heard the door fall from its hinges - but he ignored it… Omari put the box of matches back into his pocket - conspicuous, inside his braced, cream trousers - and awaited his own downfall… THE DOOR UNVEILED; THE SENDER OF WHICH, STOOD - ARMED WITH A .22 - BY OMARI’S DOORWAY. HIS STANCE WAS WIDE, HIS TRENCH COAT LARGE - AND HIS GLASSES, EVER-GLISTENING… Not unlike that burned newspaper, the sharp stubble on that person’s face - that man’s face - revealed, painfully, that it was someone he had once known… ‘I’m gonna tell you this,’ He bellowed, ‘and I’m gonna tell you….ONLY ONCE!’ Malachi’s voice ricocheted throughout Omari’s apartment and it shattered him. He shuddered, and hid himself over his desk. ‘GO. ONTO. YOUR HANDS. AND FUCKING….KNEES!’ Malachi exclaimed - shooting the ceiling. Delayed and perspirating, Omari complied. He felt the inseams of his trousers - and indeed, the soft gabardine - shrivel on his knees. In cowardice, Omari put his head down in fearful worship… ‘Now,’ Malachi remarked gravely - forcing Omari’s head up and shoving the .22 into his mouth, ‘Give me one fucking reason why I should keep you alive…’ To be continued…
Hunter Black Page 878 - The Sheriff of Boldo’s Teeth What I Said Then: “When I was writing this segment, I considered making Panel Two a splash page, so we could echo Page 1 of the comic. Obviously, cooler heads prevailed, but I do think that would’ve been a neat choice. (BTW, MINE was the cooler head. The last thing I want to do is make this comic LONGER than it needs to be.)” What I’m Saying Now: Ah, the irony. I make these stories LONG indeed.
The Surreal Noir Character Study of The Singing Detective Okay, I’ve got a show to convince you of: it’s this noir, right? And also a musical. And also a profoundly weird study of post-war Britain, and a man with a chronic skin condition, and a fantasy live that revolves around him in the role of a warbling investigator. Oh, and an actual pile of shit plays a significant role in the story. Are you in yet? No? Well, bad luck, because today’s the day I want to talk about The Singing Detective.
Hunter Black Page 877 - I Know You’re In There What I Said Then: “I’m back from vacation! Time to get back to cranking out this comic! You know, I intended these guys to be in chains, but the pit works perfectly, and I think giving these prisoners this much mobility will work better a few pages down the road. (That’s not a hint.)” What I’m Saying Now: If this was a Thanksgiving vacation, #Squirrel and I were back east seeing my mom, my late sister, and my niece and nephew. (That trip was the last time I ever saw my sister, now that I think about it.) Take it from me, take the time to enjoy holidays with the people you love.
Sharing two more photos of Noir production art I recently acquired! The first is a cel of Kirika in episode 19, which appears towards the end when she was lamenting that a normal her never existed. The second is a production drawing I picked up in Tokyo, of Dark Kirika from episode 22 as she jumps straight at her attacker. Funnily enough, this piece also came with the drawing of the gun aimed at her on a separate sheet of paper! And lastly, I got the Kirika cel framed and next to my Mireille cel! Because I just couldn’t have one without the other!
About the #noir tag
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