erlking
God I Want Summer To Die
That's true, but it's also more depressed and disappointed. It seems more like someone who's half given up already.
Light Up (Dresden Files)
- Thread starter Bladestar123
- Start date
- Location
- Postcard from the Root
[X] "There's more to it than you think."
- Location
- Canada
[X] "This is a good opportunity, for me."
Part of the problem is you have to downplay the credit from any solved cases. And you must write off any losses without revealing the risks, so SIU always looks like its spending a shitload of money, getting hurt and getting either no results or it turns out to be a costumed freak.
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
Votes locked in 12-24 hours
[X] "There's more to it than you think."
Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
[X] "There's more to it than you think."
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
Votes locked
LostDeviljho
Flame Dragon Princess
- Location
- The glorious Pacific Northwest
- Pronouns
- Any
Oh wow my vote won. Honestly didn't expect that.
Here's hoping it works out.
Here's hoping it works out.
Actually it tied.
LostDeviljho
Flame Dragon Princess
- Location
- The glorious Pacific Northwest
- Pronouns
- Any
technically, but I don't see Blade asking for a tiebreaker so I'm assuming he's going with votes as presented.
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
Oh, I missed that. Oops, I'll -
Ah, thank you very much Veekie, Nevill. Votes re-locked.
Ah, thank you very much Veekie, Nevill. Votes re-locked.
First Offense (III)
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
[X]
"Are you sure," she carefully enunciates, "That you want. To go work. For SIU?"
You turn to regard her.
"Remember procedure David, did you do the paperwork? Better get those notes down son."
"Work it off David, you're still on the clock."
"David, you missed the girl you stopped by Vernon. Clean that up, Bill's spotting the drinks today, so you'd better hurry."
"That's some piss-poor handwriting Hawke, I hope it doesn't have a patch on your investigative ability."
"Get up son, you need to finish the job."
"Hold it in David. Not in front of them. Stay professional."
"Here's a tip rookie, never let them see you flinch. This is your beat now, act like it."
"Dry those tears. Time enough for them another day."
Your lips move almost on their own.
"There's more to it than you think."
Her eyes lose that hard grey shine, just a moment.
"What do you mean?" She whispers lowly, urgently, eyes searching yours.
You avoid her glance, ducking your head and focusing more on the ground. "You heard me," you say lowly, "There's more to this than what most people realise."
She goes quiet. You dare look back up at her eyes, but they aren't looking at you anymore. They're staring at some point in the distance.
"David, whatever it was that hit your windshield left no fragments and no traces. And before you ask," she says, cutting you off before you can open your cynical mouth, "Bill ran traces on the lightpole, the one you 'hit'. Bent from the car, for sure, but no friction burns on the tires. Bill says that it's probably slick, or water, but the ground was dry under those tires. No moisture or anything."
Her lips quirk up.
"I can believe there's more to it."
You sigh, a little. The order to stay hands-off on the investigation had been passed on almost immediately, and Central had claimed the lead by dint of the accident occurring on the border of the two areas.
Clearly, that had failed to dissuade some of your old partners.
"You shouldn't have done that."
"Plainclothes investigations on our own time are not supervised or hindered as long as the laws are respected."
Translation: she had the head's implicit permission to do so, but he wouldn't admit it.
"No, you shouldn't have done that. You don't know what you're fucking with, in this." You say, a little angry, a little worried.
"Then explain."
"...this is out of your jurisdiction."
Her mouth tightens. Clearly the fact that Central had overrode them to take the case rankled. "That right?"
"That's right. It's in mine."
SIU went unsaid, and she stills.
"Explain."
"...do you trust me?"
She sighs, a little frustrated. "God help me Hawke, but yes. We've served together for a while. You're a steady man, with a clear head."
You swallow. "It's not human."
"What?"
"It's not human, the killer isn't human."
"What the fuck are you talking about David."
"It's. Not. A human. The killer. The thing that killed that woman, that killed all those people up north. It's all one thing, and it's not human."
She stares at you. "Based on what."
"I saw it."
She swallows. "You saw it."
You nod a little. "I did. It assaulted me. I don't remember anything else."
She blows out a gusty sigh.
"Alright David. It's not human." You can see the cogs in her head spinning, and she's clearly struggling to resolve this. "What do you...what did you see?"
"I saw...I saw a shadow." You say slowly. "I saw a shadow, for the most part, that seemed tall and thin. It was in the back of an alley. I got out of my car to investigate, and he turned around, and he was even skinnier than I thought. He looked...bad. Sick, almost. He had more bones than face, and he was scratching at his face.
"I didn't realize yet," you add, seeing the growing discontent on Mary's face. "I didn't realize what he was. He was just there, yanno? Then he came at me. It was fast, so fast I blinked and then he was in front of me, and then he was just beating on me. He was stupid strong too, I couldn't even hold him off. He got three good hits in, and I was out. Couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything, it felt like he'd moved my ribs with some of those hits, just shifted them into my chest cavity. All sharp pain. Last thing I saw were his fucked up teeth, they were rotten and broken as hell, but they were sharp."
Her face contorts, and she appears to be thinking about it. You feel somewhat anxious, but she doesn't respond.
Her face goes slack after a few minutes, and she looks at you. The hard edge in her eyes is completely gone at this point.
"Alright."
You blink.
"Alright David. Alright. I'm willing to believe you-" she holds a finger up. "For now. You aren't the sort of guy to make shit like this up. I can work on this assumption for a while."
She puts a hand to her head, and slowly slicks her hair back, breathing deeply out of her nose.
"I'll need proof David. Better proof, I mean. I'll need to see. For myself."
You nod slowly.
"I'll let you know when I find something."
She sighs in half-relief, half-resignation.
You watch her steadily.
Her hand reaches back, and you tense, deep in your gut, and only relax when she pulls out a radio.
The radio is matte, like all of the ones in the station, but this one is clean. Pristine. Brand-fucking-new, but the sticker on the side tells you that the station already processed it and it's synched to Dispatch.
She holds it out to you, not meeting your eyes. You take it, the hard plastic flexing a little under your grip.
"Your boss contacted the station. You're on leave until next week. He said he needed time to finalize some of the paperwork," she says under her breath.
"Don't waste it."
Your hand tightens around the radio, and she lets go.
You nearly slam the door to your Corolla shut, the hurry carrying your momentum so hard you need to brace yourself on the emergency break.
The sharp pain in your wrists punishes you for your poor decision, and you feel a brief surge of helpless frustration that nearly leads to you kicking your car. Then, you actually think, and sit yourself back forcefully, the seat creaking from the force. You gingerly nurse your wrist, the pain distracting you from what you don't want to face.
You think about it for a minute, and then groan, get out of your car, and walk back into the police station with no small impatience.
You stare grumpily at the road as you slowly pull out of the station, briefing papers, subpoena, and laptop secured in the Cruiser. This time, you hit your radio successfully, and follow procedure to the letter, Dispatch sounding as staccato as ever.
You were told to aid, which makes you little better than a glorified auxiliary, in and of itself a glorified civvie. What a promotion. You groan, and lean your head against the steering wheel, having stopped on a side street, and let Dispatch wash over you.
-robbery on Marshall, suspect running, armed with switchblade,-
You blink tiredly, maybe, finally, letting yourself feel the full weight of what has happened to you. The men and women you worked with were brave people, but far too much so. Mary had left the offer open, but you were hesitant to take advantage of that.
-three car crash on Pacific and Venice, no injuries but violence escalating-
Your back feels like it's sagging into your rib cage, as you let yourself fold out over your lap and car. Maybe you should though, if stress did this to you. Look at your poor spine, all limp from all that tension. A burden shared is a burden halved, or something like that.
-owner's complaining about potential robbery, possible break-and-enter-
You make a brief muffled sound of protest as the discomfort gets to be too much to bear, and you force yourself to sit back up, head lolling on the cushion. Is this even all-
-pursuit necessary down 80th from Sepulveda, potential murder weapon-
You sit bolt upright and curse.
The siren screams out over the neighborhood, and you make sure you know where you're going, GPS beginning to flash directions. The papers rustle mournfully beside you, and you give the writs a commiserating look. You'll both be doing work tonight.
It's bright, and you rise with a weary grunt. Your bleary eyes fail to help you identify the loose clothing beside your bed, and you slip on it, nearly going headfirst into the wall. You brace yourself with your right hand, and howl with pain as your wrist twinges angrily.
What an omen. You grit your teeth, and idly reach over to pat the wooden dresser. Rowanwood, of course, carefully handmade. You'd carved symbols all around its surface, patterns you'd repeated around the bedframe and the windowsill. The window is shut tightly, blinds open to allow natural sunlight in. You'd actually destroyed the mechanism for the blinds and attached them to a bell instead, and then added a little sprinkler full of holy water to the bell tongue. You'd need to replace that, Sunday was coming up. The local Father was always willing to help, if slightly perturbed by your weekly "eccentricities".
No matter, you'd flashed the badge, and he'd accepted your weak excuse of "stress relief". You'll not be entering the confessional though, the guilt from lying to the kind man may actually kill you.
Speaking of things that might kill you...
You sigh, and gaze ruefully at your messy room. And shake your head. Time enough for that later, you weren't in the mood.
You have a week before you are required to present yourself at SIU.
[ ] Hit the streets and start looking for rumors.
[ ] Head to your old station and try going through missing persons reports to find more connections.
[ ] Head to Central and try to contact your boss to leverage some support. (Will involve revealing your personal investigation)
[ ] Head to the crime scene and see if you can find any information.
[ ] Head to the scene of your assault and see if you can find any information.
"Are you sure," she carefully enunciates, "That you want. To go work. For SIU?"
You turn to regard her.
"Remember procedure David, did you do the paperwork? Better get those notes down son."
"Work it off David, you're still on the clock."
"David, you missed the girl you stopped by Vernon. Clean that up, Bill's spotting the drinks today, so you'd better hurry."
"That's some piss-poor handwriting Hawke, I hope it doesn't have a patch on your investigative ability."
"Get up son, you need to finish the job."
"Hold it in David. Not in front of them. Stay professional."
"Here's a tip rookie, never let them see you flinch. This is your beat now, act like it."
"Dry those tears. Time enough for them another day."
Your lips move almost on their own.
"There's more to it than you think."
Her eyes lose that hard grey shine, just a moment.
"What do you mean?" She whispers lowly, urgently, eyes searching yours.
You avoid her glance, ducking your head and focusing more on the ground. "You heard me," you say lowly, "There's more to this than what most people realise."
She goes quiet. You dare look back up at her eyes, but they aren't looking at you anymore. They're staring at some point in the distance.
"David, whatever it was that hit your windshield left no fragments and no traces. And before you ask," she says, cutting you off before you can open your cynical mouth, "Bill ran traces on the lightpole, the one you 'hit'. Bent from the car, for sure, but no friction burns on the tires. Bill says that it's probably slick, or water, but the ground was dry under those tires. No moisture or anything."
Her lips quirk up.
"I can believe there's more to it."
You sigh, a little. The order to stay hands-off on the investigation had been passed on almost immediately, and Central had claimed the lead by dint of the accident occurring on the border of the two areas.
Clearly, that had failed to dissuade some of your old partners.
"You shouldn't have done that."
"Plainclothes investigations on our own time are not supervised or hindered as long as the laws are respected."
Translation: she had the head's implicit permission to do so, but he wouldn't admit it.
"No, you shouldn't have done that. You don't know what you're fucking with, in this." You say, a little angry, a little worried.
"Then explain."
"...this is out of your jurisdiction."
Her mouth tightens. Clearly the fact that Central had overrode them to take the case rankled. "That right?"
"That's right. It's in mine."
SIU went unsaid, and she stills.
"Explain."
"...do you trust me?"
She sighs, a little frustrated. "God help me Hawke, but yes. We've served together for a while. You're a steady man, with a clear head."
You swallow. "It's not human."
"What?"
"It's not human, the killer isn't human."
"What the fuck are you talking about David."
"It's. Not. A human. The killer. The thing that killed that woman, that killed all those people up north. It's all one thing, and it's not human."
She stares at you. "Based on what."
"I saw it."
She swallows. "You saw it."
You nod a little. "I did. It assaulted me. I don't remember anything else."
She blows out a gusty sigh.
"Alright David. It's not human." You can see the cogs in her head spinning, and she's clearly struggling to resolve this. "What do you...what did you see?"
"I saw...I saw a shadow." You say slowly. "I saw a shadow, for the most part, that seemed tall and thin. It was in the back of an alley. I got out of my car to investigate, and he turned around, and he was even skinnier than I thought. He looked...bad. Sick, almost. He had more bones than face, and he was scratching at his face.
"I didn't realize yet," you add, seeing the growing discontent on Mary's face. "I didn't realize what he was. He was just there, yanno? Then he came at me. It was fast, so fast I blinked and then he was in front of me, and then he was just beating on me. He was stupid strong too, I couldn't even hold him off. He got three good hits in, and I was out. Couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything, it felt like he'd moved my ribs with some of those hits, just shifted them into my chest cavity. All sharp pain. Last thing I saw were his fucked up teeth, they were rotten and broken as hell, but they were sharp."
Her face contorts, and she appears to be thinking about it. You feel somewhat anxious, but she doesn't respond.
Her face goes slack after a few minutes, and she looks at you. The hard edge in her eyes is completely gone at this point.
"Alright."
You blink.
"Alright David. Alright. I'm willing to believe you-" she holds a finger up. "For now. You aren't the sort of guy to make shit like this up. I can work on this assumption for a while."
She puts a hand to her head, and slowly slicks her hair back, breathing deeply out of her nose.
"I'll need proof David. Better proof, I mean. I'll need to see. For myself."
You nod slowly.
"I'll let you know when I find something."
She sighs in half-relief, half-resignation.
You watch her steadily.
Her hand reaches back, and you tense, deep in your gut, and only relax when she pulls out a radio.
The radio is matte, like all of the ones in the station, but this one is clean. Pristine. Brand-fucking-new, but the sticker on the side tells you that the station already processed it and it's synched to Dispatch.
She holds it out to you, not meeting your eyes. You take it, the hard plastic flexing a little under your grip.
"Your boss contacted the station. You're on leave until next week. He said he needed time to finalize some of the paperwork," she says under her breath.
"Don't waste it."
Your hand tightens around the radio, and she lets go.
You nearly slam the door to your Corolla shut, the hurry carrying your momentum so hard you need to brace yourself on the emergency break.
The sharp pain in your wrists punishes you for your poor decision, and you feel a brief surge of helpless frustration that nearly leads to you kicking your car. Then, you actually think, and sit yourself back forcefully, the seat creaking from the force. You gingerly nurse your wrist, the pain distracting you from what you don't want to face.
You think about it for a minute, and then groan, get out of your car, and walk back into the police station with no small impatience.
You stare grumpily at the road as you slowly pull out of the station, briefing papers, subpoena, and laptop secured in the Cruiser. This time, you hit your radio successfully, and follow procedure to the letter, Dispatch sounding as staccato as ever.
You were told to aid, which makes you little better than a glorified auxiliary, in and of itself a glorified civvie. What a promotion. You groan, and lean your head against the steering wheel, having stopped on a side street, and let Dispatch wash over you.
-robbery on Marshall, suspect running, armed with switchblade,-
You blink tiredly, maybe, finally, letting yourself feel the full weight of what has happened to you. The men and women you worked with were brave people, but far too much so. Mary had left the offer open, but you were hesitant to take advantage of that.
-three car crash on Pacific and Venice, no injuries but violence escalating-
Your back feels like it's sagging into your rib cage, as you let yourself fold out over your lap and car. Maybe you should though, if stress did this to you. Look at your poor spine, all limp from all that tension. A burden shared is a burden halved, or something like that.
-owner's complaining about potential robbery, possible break-and-enter-
You make a brief muffled sound of protest as the discomfort gets to be too much to bear, and you force yourself to sit back up, head lolling on the cushion. Is this even all-
-pursuit necessary down 80th from Sepulveda, potential murder weapon-
You sit bolt upright and curse.
The siren screams out over the neighborhood, and you make sure you know where you're going, GPS beginning to flash directions. The papers rustle mournfully beside you, and you give the writs a commiserating look. You'll both be doing work tonight.
It's bright, and you rise with a weary grunt. Your bleary eyes fail to help you identify the loose clothing beside your bed, and you slip on it, nearly going headfirst into the wall. You brace yourself with your right hand, and howl with pain as your wrist twinges angrily.
What an omen. You grit your teeth, and idly reach over to pat the wooden dresser. Rowanwood, of course, carefully handmade. You'd carved symbols all around its surface, patterns you'd repeated around the bedframe and the windowsill. The window is shut tightly, blinds open to allow natural sunlight in. You'd actually destroyed the mechanism for the blinds and attached them to a bell instead, and then added a little sprinkler full of holy water to the bell tongue. You'd need to replace that, Sunday was coming up. The local Father was always willing to help, if slightly perturbed by your weekly "eccentricities".
No matter, you'd flashed the badge, and he'd accepted your weak excuse of "stress relief". You'll not be entering the confessional though, the guilt from lying to the kind man may actually kill you.
Speaking of things that might kill you...
You sigh, and gaze ruefully at your messy room. And shake your head. Time enough for that later, you weren't in the mood.
You have a week before you are required to present yourself at SIU.
[ ] Hit the streets and start looking for rumors.
[ ] Head to your old station and try going through missing persons reports to find more connections.
[ ] Head to Central and try to contact your boss to leverage some support. (Will involve revealing your personal investigation)
[ ] Head to the crime scene and see if you can find any information.
[ ] Head to the scene of your assault and see if you can find any information.
Last edited:
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
What do you plan to do with an empty corkboard? Go find something to put on one first.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Head to your old station and try going through missing persons reports to find more connections.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Wait a second. This flashback is fine and dandy, but when did we hit it with a car? We stopped and got out to take a look at it, it assaulted us, we blacked out... so what happened next and how did the car get wrecked?
[x] Head to the scene of your assault and see if you can find any information.
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Khawy
TITANNNNNNNNNNN
- Location
- The United States of America
Who are you asking this to? Seems to me that Hawke has spots in his memories, so I doubt Blade will give us anything substantial until the big reveal.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Well, I initially thought this sequence of events went as follows: we saw something, ran it over with a car, got out to take a look, and then got attacked/blacked out. Seems logical, no?
Then it turns out that we either drove a car in an unconscious state (?), our memories were altered, or someone else was there and then removed all traces of their presence. That sounds... overly complicated? So I am just checking if I heard this right and am not missing any obvious facts.
Then it turns out that we either drove a car in an unconscious state (?), our memories were altered, or someone else was there and then removed all traces of their presence. That sounds... overly complicated? So I am just checking if I heard this right and am not missing any obvious facts.
Bladestar123
Happy
- Location
- Man, wherever
You're certainly thinking in the right direction. I don't believe you are missing any obvious facts.
- Location
- Sweden
I think that it might have been a black vampire. They are known for being realy durable so they could have been hit by a car and just walk it of, and they are known to be magic users.