For her Majesty the Queen. Part Four, The odd case.

Walking down the cold grey streets of the Southern Prefecture is like finding a silver dollar at the bottom of a scum ridden, stagnant puddle. Even when you reach out to grasp the forgotten wealth you get your hands dirty. The feeling of smog so thick like oily silk presses down on me making each day feel like a weight pushing down on my shoulders. I fill my heart with contempt as I walk up to the doors of my office. This building is old, made on the blueprints found from a time in the ancients past were gangsters and something called "jazz" ruled the streets. I'm sure at one time this building held a good lot, but as the gap of time between the days of the monarchy and "Democracy" stretched the occupants of office building 405c changed. The lawyers and eye doctors who once ran honest practices gave way to Bookies and second rate back ally surgans. Opening the door to my office, the smell of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke fills the air like a round of tear gas during that Buzz ball riot last summer. Damn crazed fans nearly burned down the Northern prefecture. Laura, my secretary was sitting on the reception desk painting her nails as usual. Slick silvery wings and a young thorax makes her a tight squeeze but a lousy secretary. Reaching out I grab Laura's cigarette, snuffing it out and crack open a window. "Dammit Laura what did I say about smoking in the office, you trying to give this old be a heart attack, and what have you been doing all day painting your nails? Be useful for once and give me the next case file." The look of shock on her face was more than satisfying enough until she had to open her gap. "You know Mr.O'buzzly it would do you good to me nice to me once in awhile, and for your information your next case file is waiting in person in your office. It's a hornet by the name of Olov Belah. Damn, "A Hornet? Bloody hell. I hate Hornets" Walking past Laura's desk I ignore the sound of her lighting another cig, opening the door to my office a Large figure stands up from one of the chairs at my desk. Lanky and strong the Hornet wore a woolen trench coat with a scarf and large conical hat that was made of somethings fur. "You know those chairs are meant for clients right?" Unsettled by the Hornets lack of expression at my obvious lack of tact I move to the chair behind my desk, ignoring his outstretched hand and taking a seat, lifting my feet up and pushing back on the chair behind my desk curiosity takes hold of my tongue. "So tell me Hornet, what brings you to my office? I'll give you five minutes before I send you flying through my window." Again the unnerving lack of emotion and cold smile. "Mr. O'buzzly, It is how you say a pleasure, please allow me to introduce myzelf. My name is Olov Belah, I am emissary to king of the Hornet Empire. I've been to the police but they don't want to touch interracial matters, to say the least they are how you say, racizzzst."

For her Majesty the Queen. Part Three, Narrowing it down to one.

Every story needs a protagonist, along with supporting characters and a plot line. It just so happens that the best plot lines are twisted, organised and simple. Hmm kind of like a beehive, in any case this particular story begins some one hundred or so years after the death of Queen Elizzzabeth, during a new revolution of further individualism, brewing in the underbelly of the beast known as the southern prefecture in the massive hive of the Cutter clan. The streets of the Southern prefecture Flicker with the dim light of street lamps, a grey smog from the factories near by hanging like fog. Private Detective Gritty O`buzzly stepped out of a greasy spoon, built under the 108 freeway, whenever a Fly craft zoomed above the florescent sign reading "Buzzies" flickered violently...

Sorry I'm going to have to halt the third person perspective here. It's great in it's own right but as you can probably tell this story is taking more of a gritty turn than Superhero movies. So imagine a rewind button backing up to the point just before our main bee steps out of the diner.

After I finished eating the gruel Buzzy like to call food, I paid the man and headed for the damned streets of Southern Prefecture. This hive is diseased, crime is a constant companion a late night hussy with a nice Thorax and cheap rates. Easy to get hooked on but stings you in the face for the combs in your pocket at the end. Sometimes I wonder why I fight the good fight, making chump change on cheating wives and lying husband; Ha if you can call that a good fight. Looking into a puddle I huff out one last drag of my smoke and distort the ugly fedora barring face looking back at me.

For her Majesty the Queen. Part Two, Were Evolution fits in.

Assuming our lives end tomorrow,the Earth kicks us out of her apartment, and begins to rebuild without our burden how will these cutter bees adapt. Over a few thousand years the bees grow, their brains evolve as they become upright, two legs, two arms, learning to build with tools and fight without the fatal blow of their sting. Eventually the bee becomes a humanoid insect, about four feet in hight. Amongst a hive their is still only one Queen, one female to mate with only the strongest and most hansom of her subjects. Time and the need of survival has given the hive plenty of females, in the beginning these females were killed at birth until a new Queen was needed, but time and the trend of following a lifestyle of the ancients demanded that such barbarous traditions be re evaluated. Living apart from each other the only female who enters a males half of the hive is made Queen, every Queen can recall the bees entire past, a web mind of information is past down through the orb to each Queen in the form of images and sounds. The most primitive being the days of enslavement, the dark times filed with smoke and confusion before the reckoning of the ancients. Some say it was this recollection of the memories of a race that drove Queen Elizzzabeth to madness. Others believe it was the betrayal of her mates and the plague called revolution. In any case, the evolution of the bee has brought them to a place of the ancient Romans of our past, striving to live like the Greeks while grasping to be out of the fatal hold of diseased and maddened rulers.

For her Majesty the Queen. Part One, understanding the bee

Pretend for the moment or at least the length of this story that the our existence has ended, societies gone, human kind has eradicated itself like a mould drying in the sun after the cool rock it was hiding under is upturned by the tide. For hundreds of years the earth has mended itself, creating new mountain peaks from the cement and rebar foundation of Mans plague. While your imagination is grinding its rusty gears lets place a creature at the top of the food chain. No not a lion escaped from the zoo or the chimpanzee that’s just mundane, boring unoriginal poppy cock. Instead Imagine the bee and it's infamous yellow and black jacket. The bee is distinguished by it's amazing ability to baffle theoretical physicists, and somehow associated with birds though it's not quite clear since the fall of man, besides during the avian war bees eradicated the last feather flying meat sack and further strengthened there hold on the sky's. A society amongst themselves efficient and never changing, un harmed by a human need for morality. Now that our issue with the bee is taken care of lets narrow it down to a single hive, the colony of the Cutter clan who's ancestors were once slaves to human masters. A kingdom, prosperous in its own right this hive thrived in its early years the hives Queens were majestic, magnificent leaders who ruled over their domain with cruel justice and benign wisdom. As the wheel turns all things end and unfortunately it was with the maddened Queen Elizzzabeth, who upon her death bed destroyed the orb that summoned a new Queen to the thrown and dooming her people to individualism. Quite frankly it turned into an unorganized mess without any real solutions, guilds were formed social classes decided by the official board of social separation, and what once was a community at whole turned into a capitalist cluster fuck known by the ancient human race as "democracy."