The Missing Investigator
The blinds slice the sunrise into stripes. A saxophone sobs somewhere in the alley. The kettle whistles like a snitch.
It's the kind of morning where toast burns like old regrets and the coffee’s got secrets it won’t spill. The flamingo’s still asleep in his velvet jacket, and Richie Red’s snoring like a riff on a lunar harp.
I lit a cigarette made of metaphors and watched the steam curl like a suspect’s alibi. The city’s waking up, but it’s not smiling. Not yet."
My name is Barry Noir. Friend of Pink and Maharaja Blues but in my game, friends are just people who haven't tried to bump me off and dump my body in the river yet.
On this morning I felt half the man i was yesterday. Something needed investigating, my senses shouted it from the mountains. I just didn't know what it was. What I did know was it was in a different dimension. I needed help for this case from Pink, Rooster and the Bear.
With a team like this we have all angles covered. Pink covering the flamboyant and over dramatic, the Rooster monitoring anything blue and the Bear for hints of poetic injustice.
Pink blinked out of existence and snapped back wearing a Sherlock deer stalker and coat. He hit a brass button on his teleport rig; the world buckled, light thinned, and suddenly we were standing in Harry Pi’s office.
Pink tipped his deerstalker.
“Elementary.”
Harry didn’t flinch, but the room seemed to tighten around him.
He looked Pink up and down—the deerstalker, the coat, the smug little “Elementary”—and let out a slow exhale that tasted of stale coffee.
“Pink,” he said, voice low and sandpaper‑dry, “if you’re going to keep popping in and out of my reality, at least warn the furniture. Last time you did that, my filing cabinet developed trust issues.”
He stepped around his desk, eyes narrowing at the teleport rig still humming like a guilty jukebox.
“Now take off that costume before someone mistakes you for a detective. We’ve already got enough trouble without you borrowing someone else’s clichés.”
Then he flicked ash from an unlit cigarette and added, almost as an afterthought:
“Next time you vanish, try coming back with answers.”
The Case
Harry Pi had seen a lot in his time—moonshine that glowed like regret, shadows that whispered back, and a pistachio cake who negotiated a ceasefire —but nothing rattled him quite like this.
Larry Disparu was gone.
Not “gone to ground,” not “gone fishing,” not “gone to borrow a fiver off the wrong bloke.”
Gone as in disappeared into the very thing he was investigating.
🌙 The Moonshine
Larry had been tracking a shipment of illicit moonshine—stuff so potent it could make a grown bear recite Welsh hymns backwards. It had been stolen from a back woods still on the edge of Devauden, where the mist hangs low and the trees gossip.
But then something stranger happened.
☀️ The Sunshine
A second case appeared. Sunshine. Bottled sunshine. Illegal, radiant, and blindingly valuable. The kind of contraband that doesn’t just light up a room—it erases the shadows entirely.
Witnesses said Larry opened the crate, there was a flare of impossible brightness, and then,
nothing.
Just the echo of a man’s last “oh, bugger.”
The Investigation
They stood around the scorch mark where Larry had last been seen.
The rooster scratched at the ground.
The bear sniffed the air.
Barry lit a cigarette that immediately went out—too much residual radiance.
Harry Pi squinted at the horizon.
🔍 The Clue
There, faint but unmistakable: a thin filament of light, like a sunbeam trying to sneak away unnoticed.
“Looks like Larry didn’t vanish,” Harry muttered.
“He got taken.”
The rooster crowed in agreement.
The bear nodded solemnly.
Barry Noir sighed. “Sunshine racket. Knew it. Too bright for its own good.”
And so the four of them set off, following the runaway sunbeam into the unknown, toward a place where moonshine and sunshine meet, where shadows go to die, and where Larry Disparu might still be found…
if he hadn’t become part of the light itself.
The sunbeam didn’t slither—it stalked.
A thin, trembling line of light threading its way through the underbelly of reality like it had somewhere important to be and no intention of paying the fare.
Barry Noir, Pink, the Rooster, the Bear, and Harry Pi followed it into the treeline, where the shadows grew long and the air tasted like burnt honey.
🌄 The Trail of Light
The sunbeam dipped between the pines, flickering like it was nervous.
Barry squinted.
“Never trusted sunshine,” he muttered. “Too cheerful. Too clean. Always hiding something.”
The Rooster clucked in agreement, his feathers shimmering with a faint cobalt glow—his way of saying something blue is coming.
The Bear lumbered forward, sniffing.
“Smells like… paradox,” he rumbled.
Pink adjusted his deerstalker, which had somehow become more deerstalker than before.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I believe we’re approaching a dimensional seam.”
Harry Pi grunted. “Great. Another one.”
🌞 The Seam in the World
The sunbeam dove into a clearing—and stopped.
Not because it wanted to.
Because it couldn’t go any further.
The clearing wasn’t a clearing at all.
It was a crease.
A fold in the world.
A place where the universe had been badly ironed.
The air shimmered like heat haze, but colder.
A vertical line of brightness pulsed in the centre, like a door made of daylight.
Barry stepped closer.
The light hummed.
The hum felt like déjà vu wearing brass knuckles.
Pink scanned it with his teleport rig.
The rig coughed, sparked, and displayed a single word:
“SUNSTILL.”
Harry Pi froze.
“Oh no,” he whispered. “Not them.”
🌤️ The Sunstill Syndicate
The Bear scratched his chin. “Who?”
Harry’s jaw tightened.
“The Sunstill Syndicate. They don’t smuggle sunshine. They harvest it. They bottle it. They weaponize it. They sell it to people who want to erase shadows—literal or metaphorical.”
Barry frowned. “And Larry?”
Harry nodded grimly.
“If they took him, he’s either a hostage… or an ingredient.”
Pink blinked. “Ingredient?”
Harry pointed at the seam.
“Sunshine that powerful needs a stabilizer. Something human. Something curious. Something foolish enough to open a crate glowing like a dying star.”
Barry winced. “Larry always did have a thing for shiny boxes.”
🌗 The Door Opens
The seam pulsed.
The light brightened.
The air vibrated like a saxophone hitting a high note it didn’t believe in.
Then—
the door of daylight cracked open.
A silhouette stood inside.
Tall.
Thin.
Radiant.
Not Larry.
But holding Larry’s hat.
The figure stepped forward, and the light bent around him like it owed him money.
His voice was warm, bright, and utterly wrong.
“Looking for your friend?” he asked.
Barry Noir felt his stomach drop.
Because the figure wasn’t a man.
He was a sunshadow—a creature made of stolen light and missing people.
And he smiled like he knew exactly how the story ended.
The sunshadow tossed Larry’s hat at their feet.
Pink bristled. “Where is he?”
The sunshadow tilted its head.
“Inside,” it said. “Where all good light goes.”
Barry lit another metaphorical cigarette.
This one burned cold.
“Why take him?”
The sunshadow’s grin widened.
“Because Larry Disparu didn’t just open the crate.”
It leaned in.
“He activated it.”
The forest dimmed.
The seam flared.
The sunshadow whispered:
“Your friend is becoming something new.”
The sunshadow stepped back into the seam, leaving the door open like a dare.
The Rooster crowed.
The Bear growled.
Pink’s teleport rig whined nervously.
Harry Pi looked at Barry.
“Well?” he said. “What’s the play?”
Barry interrogates the sunshadow
The sunshadow didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t even flicker.
It just stood there in the doorway of daylight, smiling like a saint who’d misplaced his halo and decided to blame you for it.
Barry Noir stepped forward, trench coat dragging shadows that didn’t want to follow.
He cracked his knuckles. They sounded like a typewriter hitting a deadline.
“Alright, glow‑stick,” Barry said. “Talk.”
The sunshadow tilted its head, amused.
Light dripped off him like molten gold.
“You think you can intimidate me, Barry Noir?”
Barry shrugged. “I don’t think. I investigate.”
He flicked his metaphorical cigarette.
It passed straight through the sunshadow and came out the other side as a puff of warm breeze.
Harry Pi muttered, “That’s new.”
Barry stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the creature—heat that wasn’t warmth, but intent.
“Where’s Larry?” Barry growled.
The sunshadow’s grin widened, stretching too far, like it had been painted on by someone who’d never seen a human face.
“Larry Disparu is… evolving.”
The Bear growled. “That’s not an answer.”
“Oh, but it is,” the sunshadow replied. “Just not one you like.”
Barry jabbed a finger at him.
“Listen, sunshine. You took a man. A good man. A nosy man, sure, but that’s the job. You’re gonna tell me why.”
The sunshadow’s body brightened, edges blurring.
“You want the truth?”
Barry leaned in. “I want whatever you’re afraid to say.”
The sunshadow paused.
And for the first time, the smile faltered.
“He opened the crate,” the sunshadow said quietly. “He saw what was inside. And the light saw him.”
Pink blinked. “Light doesn’t see.”
“This light does,” the sunshadow whispered. “It chooses.”
Barry felt something cold crawl down his spine.
“Chooses what?”
The sunshadow leaned close, voice like a solar flare wrapped in velvet.
“Hosts.”
The Rooster let out a strangled crow.
The Bear stiffened.
Harry Pi swore under his breath.
Barry didn’t move.
“Larry’s being used,” he said.
“No,” the sunshadow replied. “Larry is being rebuilt.”
Barry grabbed the sunshadow by the collar—
or tried to.
His hand passed through light, but the gesture made a point.
“You listen to me,” Barry snarled. “You tell me where he is, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” the sunshadow asked softly. “Cast a shadow at me?”
Barry’s eyes narrowed.
“No. I’ll find him. And when I do, I’ll drag him back from whatever solar nightmare you shoved him into.”
The sunshadow’s smile returned, but thinner now. Brittle.
“You misunderstand, detective. Larry isn’t trapped.”
It leaned in until its face was inches from Barry’s.
“He’s becoming the door.”
Pink gasped.
Harry Pi’s face went pale.
The Bear whispered, “Oh no.”
Barry didn’t flinch.
“Explain,” he said.
The sunshadow obliged.
“When sunshine and moonshine mix, they create a rift. A seam. A doorway between dimensions. But such a doorway needs a stabilizer. A mind. A will. A soul.”
Barry’s jaw tightened.
“You’re turning Larry into a portal.”
“Not turning,” the sunshadow corrected. “He volunteered.”
Barry barked a laugh. “Larry wouldn’t volunteer to hold a door open at Tesco.”
The sunshadow’s eyes glowed.
“He didn’t volunteer with words.”
Barry stepped even closer.
“What happens if he finishes… becoming?”
The sunshadow’s smile vanished entirely.
“Then the Sunstill Syndicate gets what it wants.”
“And what’s that?”
The sunshadow whispered:
“A world with no shadows.”
The forest dimmed.
The seam pulsed.
The air trembled.
Barry Noir felt the weight of the case settle on his shoulders like a cosmic overcoat.
The sunshadow stood there, smug as a lighthouse with a superiority complex.
The shadows behind them shifted.
Not moved.
Not stirred.
Shifted, like they’d been listening the whole time and finally decided to clear their throat.
A voice rose from the darkness.
Soft.
Frayed.
Familiar.
“Alright, lads… that’s enough.”
Everyone froze.
The Bear’s fur bristled.
The Rooster’s comb glowed blue.
Pink’s deerstalker rotated thirty degrees in confusion.
Barry turned slowly.
“Larry…?”
A silhouette peeled itself out of the treeline.
Not walking—unfolding.
Like a man stepping out of his own outline.
Larry Disparu.
Or what was left of him.
His edges flickered between shadow and shape, like he couldn’t decide which dimension he belonged to. But his voice—his voice was pure Larry: weary, sarcastic, and carrying the emotional weight of a man who once lost a fight with a vending machine.
He raised both hands.
“Before anyone starts screaming or shooting or philosophising—everything’s fine. Honest. Get back to normal.”
Barry blinked. “Normal? Larry, you’re half silhouette.”
Larry shrugged. “Better than being half vaporised. Trust me.”
Harry Pi stepped forward, eyes narrowed.
“You’re alive.”
“Alive-ish,” Larry corrected. “Alive enough.”
Pink pointed at the sunshadow. “He said you were becoming a door.”
Larry sighed. “Yeah. About that.”
He stepped closer, and the shadows followed him like loyal dogs.
“I’m not a door. I’m a lock.”
The sunshadow hissed.
The forest dimmed.
The seam of light flickered like a nervous eyelid.
Larry continued:
“They wanted me to open the way. To let the Sunstill Syndicate flood this world with pure light. No shadows. No secrets. No night. No noir.”
He looked straight at Barry.
“And I couldn’t let that happen. Someone has to protect the shadows.”
Barry felt something twist in his chest.
Pride, maybe.
Or dread.
Larry smiled—crooked, tired, but real.
“So I flipped the script. I’m holding the door shut from the inside. They can’t get through unless I let them. And I’m not letting them.”
The Bear rumbled, “But you’re stuck.”
Larry nodded. “Yeah. But stuck with purpose.”
The sunshadow stepped forward, furious.
“You cannot hold forever.”
Larry’s grin sharpened.
“Watch me.”
The seam shuddered.
The light recoiled.
The sunshadow flickered like a candle in a hurricane.
Barry stepped toward Larry, voice low.
“We can pull you out. We can fix this.”
Larry shook his head.
“No, Barry. If you pull me out, the door opens. And then the Syndicate walks right in and turns the world into a bloody lightbulb.”
He stepped backward, into deeper shadow.
“Go home. All of you. Let me do this.”
Pink’s voice cracked. “Larry—”
Larry raised a hand.
“Tell the shadows I’ve got their back.”
The forest went silent.
The seam of light snapped shut like a slammed book.
The sunshadow screamed and dissolved into sparks.
The clearing dimmed to ordinary dusk.
Larry Disparu was gone.
But the shadows around them felt… steadier.
Stronger.
Protected.
Barry Noir exhaled, smoke curling from a cigarette he hadn’t lit.
“Well,” he said, voice rough. “That’s one hell of a morning.”
Harry Pi nodded.
Pink wiped his eyes.
The Rooster crowed softly.
The Bear placed a heavy paw on Barry’s shoulder.
The case wasn’t solved.
Not really.
But the world still had shadows.
And that meant Larry was still out there, holding the line.
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