Newt Gingrich: Ace Detective

Yet another one for Freddy’s Fan Fiction! If you’re not aware, part of the show is for participants to pick prompts for a person to write a “fan fiction” story about. I was give the genre of Noir, a Steampunk setting, and the story needed to include Newt Gingrich, who I didn’t know enough about to dislike until I was assigned this story. 

But anyway. I wrote this after a 23 hour day and 4 hours of sleep, while killing time at a rest area picnic table in the middle of rice country. It is…unique, awful, and I hit a point where it needed to end so I just threw the first bad guy that came to mind at it. If you want to check out the live show you can watch it here, but none of us are safe for work, or sensitive souls (lots of cussing and terrible content): https://youtu.be/HZjYgp7uKDo

Without further ado I give you my story, Newt Gingrich: Ace Detective

He sat in his duct-taped chair in his dusty office and stared blankly at the ledger in front of him. Before Kathy’d finally caught him sniffing around another lady’s nest, she’d filled the columns with thick red ink. Not that he doubted her accounting, she wouldn’t’ve messed with the books. Sure she got a little crazy and lit all his suits on fire, but he had faith in her numbers. The business was an ailing dirigible about to make an unscheduled stop to do its best bonfire impersonation.

Disgusted, he pushed the book back and it kicked up a cloud of dust. From a drawer, he removed a scotch bottle and a silver ball, about the size of a healthy orange. He set the ball on the desk and flicked it with one long claw, then poured a drink. The legs of the scotch crawled down the sides of the crystal and settled with the rest of the sweet amber ambrosia. Hillary Clinton herself had gifted him the set after he’d helped cover up another one of Bill’s failings, but he’d had to burn the note she left with them. Wouldn’t do for a woman with her power to be caught leaving mewling love sick notes addressed to the greatest lizard politician-turned-investigator of all times.

The ball let out soft muted clicks as it unfolded and assembled. Its tail was already flicking back and forth, curling around half formed legs, before the head had even started to assemble. As soon as the jaw was in place it began to speak softly with its husky feminine voice.

“OOoo, Newt” the copper cat purred as black jewels rolled out of its skull to form eyes. “She didn’t know what she had. You’re a hell of a catch, kid.” She preened, running one metal paw over her ears. “Any dame’d be happy to have you and they’ll be falling over each other to get at you now she’s outta the way.”

“You’re a great comfort to me, Ava,” he said and shot the scotch. She chuckled deep in her throat and he found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he’d had the dough for the bigger model. The anatomical model.

“Awe, sugar, you know I mean it. I go crazy for the coloration of your scales alone. Why, if I had a body, you know what I’d do to you?”

“Not a clue, doll. Tell me nice and slow, would ya?” He rubbed one hand over his upper thigh as he poured himself another scotch.

“Well, I’d start by…”Ava stopped talking, stopped cleaning herself, and her tail held rigid. There was a clunk and a grind, and she cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped to a terrible, deep octave and underneath it, he could hear metal grinding. It was like having a pro wrestler whisper sexual threats in your ear. “I’d slowly lick you from right behind your ear straight down to your…”

“JESUS CHRIST!” he yelled in terror and backhanded the thing. Ava flew across the room and crashed into the wall, sending copper gears and servos crashing to the floor. A few pieces made a weak attempt to wrap back up around themselves and seek the comfort of their fellow parts, but they quickly abandoned all signs of life and lay still. More scotch went into the glass and he slammed the double just as fast as the first. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered again and hung his head. Newt was going to miss that cat.

A ding sounded from beside the door, giving him another fright. Paper started to scroll out as the little metal limbs inside the frame typed out a message.

“I wish to hire you. I can pay anything,” the person at his door downstairs typed out. For a second the inked legs hesitated, and sprang to life again as the person added, “Please help, Mr. Gingrich. I’ve heard you’re the best.”

It wasn’t even a tough choice for him. All he could picture was the columns of red ink in the ledger as he rolled the tumblers to unlock the door downstairs. 1. 3. 3. 7. A click, a whir, and he knew the door downstairs was swinging wide to permit his visitor. Quickly, he kicked all of Ava’s pieces behind a chair, shoved the ledger in a drawer, poured a scotch to sip in a refined manner and put his legs up. He tipped his hat to give an air of an early afternoon rest, and tucked his tail under the desk as sometimes it unsettled clients.

The handle of his office door turned and a beautiful face poked through. Her blond hair had been cropped short but it complemented her rounded features. Bright red lipstick was all he could focus on, and his mind drifted to where it’d make a nice tourniquet before she’d even spoken.

“Mr. Gingrich?” she asked timidly.

“Please come in, Ms. Lawrence. And call me Newt.”

A small scream of horror fell out before she could close her mouth against it and she sprang backwards, slamming the door shut. Newt checked his tail, sighed, and walked over to find the girl.

She was seated across from him, sipping scotch out of the second of Hillary’s crystal glasses.

“Newt,” she said, seeing how it felt in her mouth.

“Yes,” he told her. “Newt, please.”

“Newt,” she said again. “Like, a literal newt.”

He glared.

“Look, my name is Newton, okay? The lizard thing is just…a coincidence.”

She snorted into her scotch and he glared again, so she tried to cover it up by shooting the liquid and sliding the cup across the dusty desk for a refill.

“Do you want something, Ms. Lawrence?” he asked testily. Sure he needed the cash but he hated few things more than women laughing at his…condition.

Hillary had understood that.

“Please, call me Jennifer,” she said, and gave a little smile. “And I’m sorry. They tried to tell me, to prepare me, but…well, to be honest, I was pretty scared and more than a little high while they were talking.”

Newt relaxed a little and opened his hands towards her. “All is forgiven,” he said. “What can I do for you, Jennifer?”

She shifted and studied her hands.

“Well,” she said, hesitantly, “Are you familiar with…the Mech Ball?”

He sat up straighter and gripped his scotch tightly. A plane roared by in the distance and made the liquid quiver in his glass.

“You mean the only that holds the truce the human race and OwlBearMech?”

Another plane. He figured they must be running the fighters from the nearby base again and ignored it.

“That one,” she confirmed.

“The Mechball that enables our military to use its only mech suit?”

There was a screech of metal from far away but he noticed again that his scotch shook. He could feel something more than hear it, but panic over what JLaw was saying overruled the sirens going off in his head.

“That’s it.”

“You mean the one pivotal piece of technology that is the only thing standing between us and total human annihilation at the terrible claws of OwlBearMech?!” He was nearly screaming now, rapidly blinking both sets of eyelids at her in disbelief.

Jennifer Lawrence’s hands shook as she reached into her purse and fished out the Mech Ball. No bigger than an apple, the blue and silver orb almost seemed to hum and give off the faintest of light.

Newt licked his eyeball in shock.

“What have you done?” he whispered.

She shrugged and looked about ready to cry. “I didn’t mean to. I was just…really drunk and stoned and President Obama dared me to do it because he’d been smoking too and next thing I knew I woke up at home with the mechball and a hangover and half a plate of special brownies so I ate some brownies and cried and my friends said to call you because you’re the best lizard politician turned detective in the whole state!” She was out of breath when she finished and she shook in her chair. He poured her another drink, and the entire building shook as he slid it over. The bass and crash of the mech’s steps as it strolled through the city were louder than the screams and the rending metal.

Newt poured himself another glass as well, sat it on the table, and took a long drink from the bottle.

“You know OwlBearMech’s first objective will be to destroy the Mech Ball, right? You know that it has a tracker on it and is heading straight for us?”

Jennifer Lawrence nodded sadly.

“You need to flee the city, JLaw. You need to just go and grab everyone on the way, and pray to your god you make it out in time.”

She downed the scotch and asked, almost yelling now over the sounds of the approaching OwlBearMech, “What are you going to do, Literally a Newt?”

“Everything I can.” Newt opened his desk drawer and hit a button. From the floor sprang long arms that slammed plates of spiked copper armor over his scales. On the tip of his tail rested a silver mace, and a line of sharpened points ran down the armor along his spine. He grabbed the mech ball in one fist and looked at JLaw.

“Run, Jennifer Lawerence. Run.”

She bolted for the door. He jumped for a crack in the bricks as the first of OwlBearMech’s battle screeches shattered all the windows.

Newt didn’t know how, but he was going to deliver the MechBall back to the United States Government to fight OwlBearMech. He knew he was going to succeed because nothing can stop the greatest Lizard Politican Turned Private Eye, Newt Gingrich: Ace Detective.

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