A Pleasant Ride on the Midnight Transarcadian

You decide to choose politeness, kneeling down and returning the corpse his matchbook.
"Thank you kindly, was getting mighty chilly down here," Drawls the dead man, lighting up a cigarette.


You look around the room at the various arrayed passengers. What sort of questions does one even ask in a situation like this? What is a situation like this? Ace is still ambulatory, more or less, so clearly no actual murder took place here despite the copious blood. It occurs to you that, if you're at a loss as to how to talk to the suspects, you can always talk with the victim.
You turn back to Ace and speak with your usual linguistic elegance, honed from your years experience as a truly exceptional author. "So, what the flaming rat heck is going on here?"
The corpse blinks slowly, its eyeballs barely moving. He takes a long, slow drag from his cigarette before finally speaking.
"If you don't mind me saying, you seem a little confused. I'm a corpse. You aren't supposed to interrogate me."
"I'm conducting an autopsy," you respond, "So answer the question."


Ace exhales, putrid smoke wafting up among Barkley's branches. "You know I knew a rat once. He wasn't the best rat. Not the worst one, either. He's not around any more."
You stare at the rambling corpse.
"Alright, look. Here's how it goes. A new schmuck gets on the train, He starts calling 'em 'detective', and the old detective starts getting called the victim. The same thing happened to the guy before me, and you, well, you're the next one. Best I can say is we don't tend to last long enough to end up like the rest em."
The corpse twists his neck to look at the assembled "They used to be human, I think. Most of them, anyway, there are a couple I can't be sure of. Not all of them like talking about their time on the outside. Train's a weird place. Dangerous place. They do what they need to to keep moving," Says Ace, not quite looking at you.


[] Your response?

Ace sighs and drops the cigarette but into the lantern. He seems to have trouble raising his arm, and slumps backwards when he's done. "Right now, your job is to keep the thing upstairs entertained. He gets too bored, He might try to bring in a new Detective to spice things up, which means you get put where I am and I," He waves, vaguely, "I go wherever the corpses go when He's finished with them. You're gonna want to try to avoid that."

Ace leans back further, almost pressed against the corner, and you notice you've been picking at your scarf. With more than a little mental effort, you pull your hands into line and force yourself to continue what is one of the more thoroughly uncomfortable conversations you've had in recent memory, beat out only by your first meeting with your publisher.
"So, I just need to tell a compelling story, then? And I'll be fine?" You ask, tightening your scarf around your neck,
"Not at all," Says Ace, "You'll just be better off than if you'd tried to fight it. You're still stuck here, you can still get hurt and He's not gonna do much about that, and no-one can keep Him entertained forever. Talk with Ariadne when you get the chance, next car to the front. She's lost count of all the Detectives she's seen pass through. Or the Conductor, if you don't mind going Quisling."
"But it's just a magic train, right?" You respond, more manic than before, "I know how magic works, you just need to give it something it wants and then we're free to go, right?"
A low creaking noise like tortured brass rings throughout the carriage. A conversation between the bloody man and the tree pauses until it's passed. Ace lifts himself back up to look at you. His eyes betray no emotion, but his baritone voice sounds concerned. A cold, lifeless hand settles on your shoulder.
"I know this is a lot to take in, and we're asking you to do it quickly. If you need to take a moment, we can slow down and let you rest. Don't try to solve this all at once, you're not gonna come back from that. The train's not that simple, Marie, but we can talk about that when you're not still trying to figure out how a lump of cats can feint."

Any more questions for Ace?
[] What happens when you 'solve' the mystery?
[] Other (Write In)

Who Next?
[] Interrupt the tree and bloody mans conversation, so you can interrogate one of them.
-[] Interrogate The bloody man
-[] Interrogate The tree constable
-[] ...you know what? Do both!
[] Deformed doctor
[] Catpile
[] No one, you're done here
-[] What do you do instead?
[] Write in

----------------------------------------------

You guys don't insist on making it easy for yourselves. I'm pretty sure you've consistently chosen the route with the most Sanity attacks.

Chapter 5
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. The room smells of nicotine and blood and wood polish. You open your eyes and exhale.
"What happens when I solve the mystery?" You ask.
Ace just lies there, cigarette in hand. The smoke twists and twirls lazily. He then finally croaks out "The 'culprit'..."
A pause,
"The 'culprit' goes wherever the corpses go. Then there's a rest period. Someone new arrives, someone the Benefactor thinks interesting enough. The corpse gets murdered again." Ace takes another drag of his cigarette. A dead person cannot ruin their lungs, you suppose.
"It keeps going and going until the detective bores him. Even the best detective ends up getting predictable. Ask the Conductor. If you're lucky, you can end better than most corpses." Ace smiles a crooked, sad grin "Depends on what you think counts as 'lucky'."
His eyes roll as he looks at the other guests "You've got a couple days to make a case. Throw around something you think you can call 'evidence', make up something halfway believable, and make it interesting enough to keep Him at bay for a few more days.."


Ace lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. There's a strange finality to it. "I'm happy to answer all your questions later. You're on the clock right now, and the train doesn't like delays."

You give a nervous nod and leave him to his unmoving state. A few steps over, you see the tree and the bloody man, locked in conversation. You clear your throat and stand up straight in your best impression of authority. Considering your height, it's not very effective.
"Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, but I need a moment of your time." You turn to the bloody man "Especially you sir. Given your situation, you are the prime suspect." The bloody man raises his eyebrow, and sweat trickles down his face.
"You're finished with Ace then?" He asks. His voice is like oil, his eyes are narrow and glaring.
"I am finished with the autopsy, yes." You say, waving off his impropriety.
"So I wanted to move on to you, Mister..." You offer. The bloody man smiles a wide grin and locks eyes with you. You get the strangest urge to count the teeth.
"Robert Didit Redherring is the name He's put on me. Wonderful meeting you." 'Meeting' or 'meating'?
You take the man's (shaking, sweating) hand and say "Marie Rodier, writer and detective extraordinaire." Language seems to tug at you again. So this is Robert, is it? The same one from the note, you assume. You'll have to ask around about that later. Well, once you can figure out how without raising suspicion.
As you process this, Robert turns to the tree and says "It was great catching up, George. Same goes for you, Bobby. Thanks." Robert says having the tree off, and there is some movement among those branches.


You swear you catch the uniform move its sleeve and wave at Robert? It couldn't have been the wind, could it?
Robert turns to you, giving you a sharp grin. "So, what do you need to know, Miss Rodier?" The red-suited man inquires.

What do you ask? (Up to 3 questions allowed)
[] Ask what his involvement in the murder was.
[] Ask if he did it, I mean it is his middle name.
[] Ask about George, you are really curious
[] Write in.

Voting closes 24 hours from this post, as usual.

Chapter 6

If your interaction with Ace was just an autopsy, that would make this your first real interrogation. You turn on the charm as best you can and flash your sincerest grin. You are quite disappointed to realise that the light has refused to reflect off of it. You're really going to need to get around to appeasing those lamps later on.

"So, Mister Redherring, how were you involved with the deceased?" You ask.
Redherring's brow furrows and his smile twitches. At a guess, you would call it an attempt at a sad smile, but there is still something dreadfully insincere about it.
"I consider Mister Cold a good friend, but I have to say I'm not sure he feels the same about me." Sweat runs down his face as he shakes. "I'm not sure about you either."
You keep your face neutral. "You were covered in blood when we entered," you say, and Redherring gives a blank stare in return.
"The blood was fresh when you arrived, but I really can't credit you your response time. Shouldn't the blood have dried by the time you got here?"

And once again, you are thrown off balance.
He watches you patiently for a few moments, then before you have a chance to continue he starts speaking again. "If you're really going to go through the motions here, could you at least try to be a bit quicker about it?"
Ignoring the jab, you continue, "What did you do in the last two hours?"
Redherring smiles, and it's not a comforting smile. It's the smile of someone who thinks they've got you, and are terrified that they haven't.
"Most recently, I was waiting for you."
Well, you certainly weren't that slow. You sigh and try again.
"And what were you doing before that?"


Redherring's smile doesn't budge. It's an angelic smile, the sort of angel that comes down with a flaming sword, and has too many eyes, and has to remind people to Fear Not. A smile, you realise, with no emotion behind it at all.
"I was having a stimulating discussion with Mister Cold. Nothing else."
Another dead end.
"Did you see anything out of place lately?"
Redherring chuckles at this. It stops just short of being maniacal laughter.
"Miss Detective, I can assure you that there has been absolutely nothing out of the ordinary for this train has happened." His eyes escape yours and move their pinpoint gaze towards a nearby corner. You frown "Nothing misplaced? Moved? Acting odd?"


"Absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. Things here have a tendency to find their way out of place." His gaze focuses on the metal wastepaper bin in the corner of the room "Isn't that right?"
The moment the words leave Redherring's mouth, the train starts to shake, violently. For the first few moments, the bin in the corner stays perfectly still, then begins rattling just out of sync with the train. When the train eventually comes to rest, the bin doesn't. The rest of the passengers are staring at it now. The shaking grows stronger and more violent until finally it tips over with a clatter, the opening facing towards you. For a moment, there is nothing in the bin but darkness, then a brief flash of movement and footsteps moving quickly down a cluttered corridor.

Something stained seems tAfter a most stimulating conversation with mister Redherring, the train rattles and shaakes. There was a joint in the tracks that had come misaligned over the course of countless journeys along these dark and mysterious tracks. How unfortunate.
Like the honourable and noble good samaritan you are, you go to the rubbish bing, which had fallen down, and flip it upwards.
In the process you find absolutely nothing of note, and return to your questioning of the very suspicious blood-covered man, who watches you the whole time like a hawk in the depths of the night watches prey.


You return to Redherring and prop yourself against the door.
"Is that so? Nothing at all suspicious happened before the murder? Are you sure about that, Mr.Redhe-"
Suddenly, you find yourself accelerating downward and it takes you a moment to realise someone has forced open the door. You collide with the carpet with a soft thud before you can really react.

By the time you've made it back to your feet, the newcomer has already barged well into the room. Behind her, Barkley manages a very fine attempt at looking embarrassed, despite his apparent lack of a face. A large owl, perhaps two or three feet tall, has waddled their way to the middle of the increasingly crowded room. While the doctor's suit resembled a coat of feathers, the owl seems quite the reverse, with a pattern of feathers resembling a brown skirt and blouse, topped by what appears to be a genuine felt fedora with a press card tucked behind the ribbon. At this point, your reaction to meeting a new member of this cast has left wonder far behind and has settled into exasperation.
"Ha! I smell an opportunity and Tree-boy here ain't stopping me making my presence known! No force on the tracks keeps me where I belong! 'Opportunity' is my middle name no matter what this overgrown bonsai says!" The owl says in chirpy, feminine New York accent. Redherring gives her a lazy look "Oh, you've changed it again?" He asks.
The owl puffs up a little "Nothing wrong with that!" She says.
She turns dramatically on the tip of a talon and marches towards the victim, "Oh, Ace, honey, what did they do to you? I told ya you been going too easy on us, big guy, and see where that gets ya!"
The chattering avian parks herself on a table with a good view of the slumped over living corpse, who manages a soft "Hey, Ames," before a blinding flash fills the room and the owl starts examining a polaroid photo that had somehow made its way under her wing in that split second of blindness.
"Don't you worry, big guy. I'll make sure this makes headlines for ya."
Her head pivots entirely around and her massive eyes lock with yours, "And you! You're the new Detective, right? I'm Amelia Opportunity F'Owler, and you're gonna keep my boy Ace here in the script, you got that?" She says. Her pupils seem to stretch and shift as she focuses on you.
"And the other thing you're gonna do," The owl continues, turning the rest of her body to match her head, her eyes zoom out and seem to lose some intensity, "Is sit down with me for an interview."

Do you accept her offer?
[] Interview the owl
[] Refuse, continue with your investigation
-[] Who do you interrogate next?
-[] Ask Barkley to remove the owl
[] Other (Write in)

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Apologies for the delays, it's been assignment season and that always sneaks up on me. I'm managing to tread water now, though, so we should be able to keep going until things inevitably become even more dire.