This is only the first chapter of my planned detective noir/lovecraftian horror novel, Mask Of The Horned King.
Once it's done and posted chapter-per-chapter here on FA and a few other websites, I plan to send it to a publisher of furry books (or maybe even a "normal" one?), edited and revised, so that I can start off my writing career and claim myself a member of the Furry Writer's Guild!

So pretty, PRETTY please, if you leave a comment on this thread, do your best to make it as complete and in-depth as possible - include your critique, opinions and general comments, please! This will help A LOT on my future as a writer!

Anyway, I hope you like it!~

P.S.: I'm also looking for someone to design me a logo for each chapter's thumbnail, showing the titular artifact in a dark background. If you're interested in helping, PM me! You may even get paid!

---

           Zillion McClenahan Shard was a private eye with no hopes of attaining a better life, a
better job, a better payment or heck, even a client or two. Even though he
lived on the filthiest, most downtrodden neighborhood in town, the few cases he
ever solved were related to everyday stuff like murders and muggings. However,
the investigation he was paid to deal with in that fateful day proved to be a
little more interesting than most.
           Subject matter: Louis Reinhardt. Age: 19. Species: Fox. Zillion knew him, if only for the dozens of times he
broke through his office’s door when looking for the local library. The vulpine
was an avid reader, and this was apparent by the heavy, bloodstained tote bag
that laid next to his beheaded corpse. The big bridge downtown was an
incredibly busy place at dark Saturday nights like that one, but nobody – not
even the cops – cared for Reinhardt’s dead body except for Zillion and a
grey-furred, black-masked raccoon, who was analyzing the deceased canine as
thoroughly as the skunk detective, if not even more so.
           Zillion was weirded out by this, since he was the one paid to deal
with the case. Inquiring the raccoon, the skunk discovered that Rocky, as he
preferred to be called, was a close friend of Louis and, coincidentally, a
private eye, but his emotionless mannerisms showed no sign of affection towards
the fox.
           In the end, though, the two investigators struck a deal, with each one taking away a half of Reinhardt’s
inventory for further studying – Zillion grabbed a few thick books and a museum
pamphlet while Rocky left with the rest of his dead friend’s Bible-like volumes
and the bag that held everything together without showing the slightest sign of
disgust towards the massive pool of blood it rested on.
           Creeped out by the icy raccoon and tired as all hell, Zillion sloppily left his collected evidence at his office’s
desk and rushed to bed without even thinking about a change of clothes.
           “Eh, I’ve got yet another boring case on my hands”, he thought as he laid on his bed. “I’m gonna solve it in a
day or two, report back to the guy who hired me and get my fifty bucks, as usual. I just have to worry about that raccoon… Actually, I’ve never thought I’d have competition, heh. Anyway, I’d better sleep, because tomorrow will be yet another boring day of work…”