Sleuth Home - Detective Mickey Sticks

Tough and Charming
6725 days
Moonlighting Dilettante
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Electrum Dragon Pendant Silver Handled Cane Seal Skin Hat Possum Bomber Jacket Brown and White Wing Tips

Completed Missions

  • Packages Delivered: 0
  • Overdue Books Returned: 0
  • Nemeses Captured: 0
  • Secret Plans Revealed: 0
  • Artifacts Unearthed: 0
  • Journal Pages Found: 0
  • Brass Rings Won: 0

Detective Biography

*fortune teller*

Sometimes life throws you lemons.

Mickey generally makes Sasparilla with them.

Sitting in his well-appointed penthouse one night, his faithful manservant, Percy, at his side, he opened a book. Not just any book. His mother would kill him for this, but it was a... PULP. That's what she'd have called it, alright. Paperback, with yellowed pages, even though it was only recently published, and a lurid cover - Mickey didn't know what lurid meant, but it sure seemed to fit - his hands shook as he began reading.
An hour later, he ordered Percy down to the corner to pick up another. "Make that five, Perce... actually, get every one they've got!" he cried.
The next morning, the doorbell rang. "Mawster Michael, your mother." Percy announced, his South-of-England accent cutting through the affected drawl of his post. Mickey had tried to shake him of this habit, but the tall, slender butler persisted.
"You look like hell, Michael. I suppose you've been up all night with some doxy!" his mother barked, the disapproval cutting the misama of cigarette smoke and too-strong coffee like one of the kitchen knives her father used to sharpen when he was alive. She had married well, but for love. Mickey's father had been a cop before going into the grocery business, expanding a single store into an empire. When he died, the board had sold everything, setting up his wife and son with very hefty endowments.
"Mother, I have found my calling!"
With a moue of displeasure, she sat. "Really, dear. You know you aren't cut out for business", she purred, a scary, almost sinister sound, sickly sweet, but with an edge that Mickey's gypsy grandfather would be proud of.
"I'm serious mother! I'm going to be a detective."

She was right about one thing. He didn't have a head for business.

A year later, sitting in a mold-infested office that doubled as his apartment - he couldn't shake the cliches - he smiled ruefully. "Y'know, Percy, maybe this wasn't the best idea."
Percy didn't answer. He was working as a waiter at a hoity-toity party that night. Still faithful, but a full partner in the company - if you can call it a company - Percy had to moonlight every night of the week... and most days.
"Gah... now I'm talking to myself." he chided.
"If only I had a case..."

Then, as they say in the best detective novels, the ones he probably SHOULD have been reading...

The doorbell rang.

(Ok, it was a buzzer... and it didn't work very well... and probably gave the person buzzing a terrible shock... but it's a start.)


Order o Socrates:  Poor(-1)
Arcanum Brthrhd:  Fair(9)
Cosa Nostra:  Poor(-3)
Eastern Triads:  Neutral(0)
Circle of Light:  Poor(-1)
Green Hand:  Fair(1)
The Tea Steepers:  Neutral(0)
Shangri La Tigers:  Neutral(0)


Barber (New York)
Music Teacher (New York)

Arch Villains

None Caught

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