[Act] Blood and Betrayal in the Sun and Sand (M)

Based on Wii Sports Resort

Rated M for Violence, Coarse Language, Drug References, Sexual References, Adult Themes



Blood and Betrayal in the Sun and Sand



The last drop of whiskey fell into Detective Tom Steele's mouth. He sighed as it rolled down his throat, shaking the flask in a futile attempt to discover more hiding in the bottom. He was not so fortunate though and reluctantly put it back in his desk draw, returning his attention to the reports he had been typing up on the computer in front of him. He was living a dream from anyone else's perspective, high paying position on a tropical island, what more could a Mii want? His office offered a breathtaking view of the docks and the majestic cruise ship, the Queen Peach, that was often residing there. A new boat load of tourists had come in. Tourists. They only stayed a weekend, a week at most, and they treated Wuhu Island as a playground with no consequences. Tom had seen the dark side of these vacationers too many times to fill his heart with nothing but spite whenever he saw their gaudy, Hawaiian shirts. Drugs, prostitution, binge drinking, street brawls, Tom had dealt with them all. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw the brochures, the perfect, happy scenes of frisbee in the tropical sun. The truth was something much more depressing, easily forgotten by the tourists when they returned to their regular lives, but it was something that Tom had to live with every day. It was almost as though it was permitted, as though the resort staff were complicit, as though they encouraged it. There was no evidence to support this, just a feeling. Detective Steele tapped away at the computer, completing his report. It was a rather standard prostitution case. The only thing that distinguished it from other cases was the body modification of the hooker and the John involved, changing her face to resemble her reproductive organs and he having changed his face to resemble his own reproductive organs. Tom wondered how the usual 'no kissing' policy applied in this case. Some Miis would do anything to stand out from the crowd. Often this would cause them to become part of a crowd, Tom noted the crowds of Batmen and Chuck Norrises one could see on the jogging track of a morning. One of the Chuck Norrises entered Tom's office and stood at his desk. This was Chief Chuck Norris though, head of Wuhu Island Police Department.

“Tom,” said Chief Chuck Norris, “there's been a murder.”
That immediately got his attention, “♥♥♥♥, another one? What details do we have?”
“Male, mid-20s, found dead at the frisbee area with a frisbee in his head,” replied Chief Norris.
“Any leads?” asked Tom as he stood up and got his coat off the rack in the corner of his office.
The Chief shook his head.
“I'll get to work then,” said Tom as he threw the coat on.

It was a short drive to the frisbee area, his route took him past the tennis courts. They were empty tennis courts, a serial ball thief had alluded the police's capture for several months, the appearance of the case in local newspaper's 'weird world' section had caused embarassment for the local department. Tom passed many holidayers on his way, all frolicking and smiling, unaware of what had taken place, or perhaps aware but not caring, selfishly pushing it to the back of their minds focusing instead on their own gratification. Tom slowed as he made his way on to the sand and approached the police cordon. There were a couple of news reporters on the scene who all rushed Tom as he stepped out of the car. He ignored them as he always did and ducked under the cordon. He blanched at the sight of the victim in front of him, the sand around the body stained with blood and brain. Tom knelt next to the body and looked it over. There had to be a clue. Something. Tom put his hand in the victim's pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. There must have been over a thousand dollars in the bundle. He scanned the rest of the body. His eyes rested on the victim's feet. His shoes. He was wearing bowling shoes.

“Looks like our victim,” he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slid them on to his face, “lived life in the fast lane.”
“YEEAAAHHH!” came the distant scream of a passing wakeboarder.

The hollow, knocking tumble of bowling pins echoed through the lanes as Detective Steele approached the snack counter. He bought a packet of crisps and took a seat on a stool where he quietly surveyed the scene around him. Tom turned to the man behind the counter who was busy deodorising shoes.

“Anything unusual happen last night?” asked Tom.
The man didn't take his eyes off the task at hand, “No, detective.”
Tom looked the man over, a rather expensive watch was wrapped around his wrist, “Nice watch, how'd you afford that on your salary?”
“It was a birthday present,” replied the worker.
“Anyone a serious regular here?” asked Tom. “Anyone here everyday?”
“Yeah, JC's here all the time,” the worker nodded in the direction of Lane 7.

Tom looked over to the lane to see a serene, bearded Mii elegantly bowling the ball towards the pins, resulting in a strike. He glanced at the score screen, his fourth strike in a row.

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Tom, “another damn Jesus.”
Tom walked over to the long-haired sportsmen and extended his packet of crisps. JC smiled and took one.
“You here last night?” asked Detective Steele.
“I'm always here, I am everywhere,” replied JC. “But mostly I was just here last night.”
Tom had short patience for these Miis with a messiah complex, “See anything unusual?”
JC paused in thought, “I did. The man at the counter had an argument with a customer. I thought nothing of it, but when I went to return my shoes, he was not there.”
Tom pulled out a photo of the victim, “Was this the customer?”
JC nodded, “Yes, but he didn't have the frisbee in his head last night.”
“Thanks for the tip,” mumbled Tom. “Thanks for your help.”
“I help those who help themselves,” replied JC.
“Well, help yourself to the rest of these crisps,” said Tom, handing over his almost full bag of potato chips. “I've got a pin monkey to take in.”

Tom turned and started to make his way back to the counter. As he did so, he reached for his handcuffs. Before he could get there though, a wayward bowling ball came flying into the crowd from an inept bowler. The crowd all jumped in unison and screamed, it startled the detective and it took a moment for him to regain his senses. He looked to the counter, the employee was gone. That was no wayward bowling ball. It was most definitely deliberate, the perfect distraction. Tom caught sight of who threw it. It was one of the Batmen. The Batman immediately started sprinting for the exit, Tom tried to follow but had to jostle with the crowd, giving the Batman the advantage. The Detective burst out of the building and on to the street, he quickly looked around to see Batman rushing down a street leading to the pier, knocking over innocent passers-by as he went. Tom took after him as Batman rounded a corner up ahead. Tom turned the corner. He stopped. A group of joggers were moving along at a steady pace but there was one problem. Six of them were Batmen. Detective Steele's mind worked as fast as it could. Shoes. He quickly looked at all the Batmen's shoes. Only one of them was wearing a pair of bowling shoes.

“Batman, the one wearing the bowling shoes, you're under arrest!” cried the Detective.

The solitary, bowling shoe-clad Batman broke off from the rest of the jogging pack and sprinted toward the pier. Tom took chase again. Batman ran at full speed toward the water's edge, he jumped off the side of the concrete pier. But there was no splash, just the powerful grunt of a Power Cruiser. Batman gunned the throttle as he looked over his shoulder at the sight of Detective Tom Steele leaping from the pier on to a free Power Cruiser.

Tom powered through the waves generated by Batman's wake. Batman twisted and turned as much as possible, but Tom never let his man out of his sights. The two power cruisers blasted across the surface of the sea, the spray from Batman's vehicle splashing on to Tom's face, the droplets attaching themselves to his sunglasses. With a grimace and a pang of regret, Tom ripped the sunglasses off his face and threw them in the sea. He narrowed his vision and twisted the throttle as far as it could go. He began making up ground, slowly reeling in the fugitive Batman. The Caped Cruise-Goer panicked as the lawman drew ever closer. Batman's power cruiser turned sharply and headed off in another direction. He was heading right into the path of a group of canoeists! The Miis in the small craft plunged their oars in to the water and paddled as fast as they could at the sight of the two power cruisers roaring towards them. One of them, a Zoidberg, caught in the grip of fear, merely caused his canoe to navigate a very small circle. The others had acted quickly enough to be out of harm's way, but the Zoidberg remained in Batman's path. The Zoidberg sighed and gave up his efforts to maneouver the canoe and instead sat dead in the water, reluctantly accepting his fate. Just as the Batman was about to collide, he turned at the last second. Detective Tom Steele was not as quick, however, sending him shooting into the halpless Zoidberg. The power cruiser ploughed into the canoe, sending the Detective flying over the handlebars and causing the Zoidberg to tumble out of the watercraft. The Detective made contact with the water, several times, as his trajectory caused him to skip along the surface as would a stone across a pond. His momentum slowed enough after the third bounce to allow him to sink into the water. Detective Steele punched his way to up through the water and sucked in the air as he breached the surface.

He looked around frantically for the Batman. Tom saw the wake of a power cruiser approaching the seaplane dock some distance away. He wouldn't be able to get there in time. He needed a solution and he needed one fast, the distant chug of the seaplane engine starting echoed across the waves. He watched as the seaplane pulled out of its dock and gently rose from the water. Its path would take it directly above the water-logged Detective. It seemed that this Batman wasn't as skilled a pilot as his facesake, the seaplane wasn't gaining very much altitude as the wings wobbled slightly. Maybe it would be low enough...yes, it would be...Tom put his plan in to action. He quickly swam over to the Zoidberg who was now clinging to his badly-damaged canoe. The Zoidberg seemed relieved that there was apparently some assistance for him, a smile spreading across his face. Tom did not smile back, he merely looked at the Mii with a deadly serious expression. The Zoidberg's expression changed to shock as Tom pushed down on the lobster's shoulders, forcing him under the water. Zoidberg flailed and kicked under the water. Just as Tom had hoped. A lobster in trouble would surely get the attention of one of his predators...yes, Tom could see the unmistakeable silhouette rising in the crystal clear water. The Detective pulled the Zoidberg back up and hoisted him on to the canoe, the lobster was frightened and shaking. Zoidberg was taken aback as Detective Tom Steele began rising out of the water...on the back of a whale! The seaplane was nearing, still low enough for Tom's plan. The Detective stood up warily and made his way to the whale's blow hole. The seaplane drew closer. The timing had to be just right. Tom felt the rumblings beneath his feet. The timing was perfect.

“Sorry,” said Detective Tom Steele to the Zoidberg as he produced another pair of sunglasses and slid them on to his face, “Gotta blow.”

Just then the whale expelled a jet of water from its blow hole, blasting Tom in to the sky just as the seaplane flew overhead! He grabbed on to one of the pontoons, and not a moment too soon as it seemed the Batman had finally come to grips with the aircraft, the seaplane gaining altitude at a much quicker pace. The Detective climbed up, with the help of the supporting struts, and stood atop the pontoon. He ducked so that the Batman wouldn't see him. Tom quickly surveyed the surroundings, they were flying along the very edge of the island it seemed. The Batman was sitting in the front seat, the one to the rear was vacant. The Detective silently climbed in to the rear seat. He looked for some controls to bring the plane down. Tom furrowed his brow as he realised all of the flight controls were in Batman's section. How to stop him then? He didn't feel right about punching someone in the back of the head. And a Batman at that. Even though he wasn't the real Batman, the papers would have a field day if a lawman punched a Batman in the back of the head. Tom would not have enough to make a decision to proceed cautiously, however, as Batman seemed to realise there was someone behind him. He turned around to confirm and jumped at the sight of Detective Tom Steele staring him down. Batman did the unthinkable, he jumped out of the plane! Tom hadn't seen the parachute pack fitted securely to the fugitive. Tom, on instinct, and against better judgement, leapt out of the plane as well. The air rushed past him and his heart pounded in the inside of his chest while he positioned his body as though he was diving headfirst toward the ground. His body shape gave him the edge over Batman's spread-eagled approach in terms of speed. Tom's strategy was working, the gap between the two was closing fast. As soon as he was range, he wrapped his arms and legs around the Batman. Batman struggled to break free but it was no use, Tom was not going anywhere.

“What do you know about the frisbee murder?” Tom forced the words past the defeaning air.
“I won't talk,” replied the Batman.
“Why are you protecting the guy that works at the bowling alley?”
“The boss told me to.”
“Talking now, are we?”

Batman realised he had said too much and closed his mouth before pulling the rip cord. The parachute exploded out of the pack, the Detective narrowly dodging the expanding fabric. Their velocity decreased markedly as the ground approached. Tom looked down, it seemed that they were heading right for the Swordplay arena. The swordplay arena was daunting at the best of times, two combatants on a small circular pad thirty metres in the air, deaths were frequent though not widely-reported. Large amounts of hush money made their way to victims' families as new tourists took their place on the freshly-cleaned arena. The parachuting pair landed softly though clumsily, the Batman struggling free in the process. Batman scrambled over to one of the swords as Tom picked up the other one. The Detective rushed towards the suspect, brandishing his sword in an attacking pose. Batman tried to push himself to his feet but was met by the Detective's foot pushing on his back, forcing him to the ground. The defeated fugitive rolled on to his back, the Detective putting the sword to his throat.

“Tell me what you know or I'll feed you to the sharks,” demanded the Detective.
Batman hesitated before relenting, “Okay...okay, I'll tell you.”
“Speak,” said the Detective.
“The guy, the dead guy, tried to muscle in on the boss' business,” said Batman.
“The boss? The guy at the bowling alley?”
“No...no, he's just a dealer, the boss is...well, he's higher up,” said Batman. “The dead guy was a novice, didn't know how things worked on Wuhu Island, he made a few small deals but he was dealing in the small-time. We had a brand new product, something that'll really make you feel in control of everything, we call it MotionPlus. The dead guy came to the bowling alley to talk to our dealer, complained that he wasn't getting his share of business on the island, that we had a monopoly and that whoever didn't have MotionPlus wouldn't be having any fun on Wuhu Island. It was a hit, man, a big hit. Our dealer tried to settle things, give him a MotionPlus for free, but the dead guy said he needed more than one to get the full experience of business on the island. We offered to sell some to him, however, he took exception to our prices. He tried to steal some. Our dealer took him out to the frisbee area, it's quiet late at night, and, well, I suppose you saw the result of that.”
Detective Tom Steele took a moment to process everything, “Where can I find your boss?”
“I don't know, he could be playing table tennis or basketball for all I know,” said Batman, “I've never met the guy.”
The Detective pressed the sword harder against Batman's throat, “Any ideas?”
“I hear he enjoys a lunch-time cycle around the island,” said Batman. “Maybe you could catch up to him then.”

Detective Steele pushed the now-handcuffed Batman through the doors of the Wuhu Island Police Station. The paper work and formalitites were quickly taken care of at the front desk before Tom took the prisoner to his cell. He looked at his watch as he made his way back to the office, it was 12:15. The drug boss could already be out cycling, Tom had to hurry or else miss his chance. As he made his way down the corridor towards his office he saw Chief Chuck Norris approaching the other way. There was something about him that unsettled Tom. His pants. Tight, black, stopped above the knees.

“What's with the get-up, Chief?” he asked.
“Going for a lunch time bike ride,” replied Chief Chuck Norris as he passed the Detective.

Tom turned as fast as he could, drawing his weapon as he did, but he was only met by the business end of a nine-iron. Tom fell to the floor, the world around him blurring and fading to black.

The black began making way for green, globs of green and blue were all that Tom could see. He forced his eyes open; it was a slow, groggy process. The globs began to sharpen and take shape, trees, clouds, sky. The air felt thin, he could hear the distant gargle of a stream, maybe a waterfall. There were trees all around him, gently swaying in the breeze, their branches tussling with each other playfully. He decided he must be in the forest quite high up on the island. Tom tried to move but something was restricting his movement. He realised he was pressed up against a tree, his hands tied behind his back with his stomach strangled by a rope running tautly around the trunk. There was someone standing some distance in front of him. Tom tried to focus on the figure. It was the Chief.

“Chief,” drawled Tom, “what...what are you doing?”
Chief Chuck Norris lifted something in his hand, “There are a lot of accidents on this island. Accidents that never get reported. Bad for business.”

The Chief held the object steady. Tom could see now that it was a bow. He desperately struggled against his bonds as his bearded boss pulled back on the bow's string, arrow in place. The Chief launched the arrow. It shot through the air and slammed into the tree centimetres from a wide-eyed Detective Tom Steele.

“Got to adjust for the wind,” said the Chief casually. “Business is good and I can't let you get in the way.”
“We worked together for so long,” said Tom.
“You're idealistic,” said the Chief, drawing another arrow. “You wouldn't have survived on Wuhu Island for five minutes if it wasn't for my protection. But now you know the truth, the only way to protect myself is to kill you.”

The Chief let fly with the arrow, this one drove itself into the tree on the other side of Tom. He closed his eyes and searched for a solution. But a simple, frightening fact dawned on him. There was no solution. He would be a sacrifice to appeal to the mass MotionPlus market. Someone who had been loyal to The Chief for years cast aside and forgotten in favour of the millions of casual visitors to this island. The fun and games in the sun and sand would continue and the blood stains would be ignored.

Chief Chuck Norris fired his last arrow at Detective Tom Steele.

It was a perfect shot.

The laughter of those enjoying themselves all around the island seemed to swirl up to the forest heights and become amplified. The echoes of enjoyment suffocated the sound of Tom's last words.

“What more could a Mii want?”



__________

I hope you enjoyed that foray into the seemy underbelly of Wuhu Island.

Once again out doing yourself, in bringing out the dark underbelly of the innocent games. High Five.