Noirish Intro

Written before I got distracted by a shiny thing.

I didn't want to be conscious, I really didn't. But the poking in my ribs was pretty insistent that I be so. The voice that I assume came from the person doing the poking seemed to be pretty determined to wrench me from oblivion too. “I said wake up asshole!”

The main reason I didn't want to be awake is that some primal instinct told me it would bring only pain and suffering. In my line of work I've learned to trust those instincts. A band of iron tightened mercilessly around my head and the unmistakable beginnings of an unavoidable revolt began stirring in my guts. I rolled from the cot, paying no heed to the impact of my knees on the cold concrete of the cell floor. On all fours I made it to the steel toilet just in time as my stomach contracted, expelling the poisonous aftermath of whatever it was I drank last night. Years of experience of such events meant I got the vast majority of it in the bowl. A small success but considering the blinding pain of the hangover and the disorientation of such a rude and sudden awakening I must confess to a little pride in it.

After a few painful dry retches, just to be on the safe side, I wiped my mouth on my cuff, swung round onto my ass and took stock of my surroundings. Judging by the distribution of scrapes and suspicious stains on walls and floor this must be cell 3. Close to the duty desk, must have been a quite night last night... that or I came in unusually early.

“You're not my usual host? What did I do to earn a wake up call from yourself lieutenant?”