Ask a Stupid Question…
'Who are you?' asks a gangly adolescent dressed in ill-fitting clothes, sitting on a pile of rubble overlooking the entrance to the Vault, holding a long rifle. He appears somewhat emaciated and his hair has been crudely shorn. 'State your business.'
'I'm Frida Bolevidar. Are you one of the Black Rooks?' you ask.
'Never heard of you,' he replies. 'Be off with you.'
'You didn't answer my question!' you exclaim. 'Are you one of the Black Rooks or not?'
'Why do you want to know?' he asks, adjusting the aim of his gun slightly. He's not aiming it at you, not exactly, but it's clear that he could if he wanted to.
'I'm a detective, investigating some murders. I hoped that they could assist me with my inquiries.'
'Hah! They can't! 'Cos they're dead!' He gives a victorious whoop.
'What happened?' you ask. 'Who are you?'
'I was one of their slaves. They had us farming drugs and suchlike. Earlier in the week, someone attacked them – don't know anything about that, but we noticed how much they were weakened by it – so, we made plans and got ready to fight. Then, when they were attacked by zombies, they tried to retreat to the Vault, but we rebelled, rose up against them and pushed them out. No more Black Rooks.'
'None of them?' you ask.
He deflates somewhat. 'Erm, we took one of them prisoner. Locked him in one of our old cells until we could figure out what to do with him.'
'What's your name?' you ask the lad.
'Joss,' he replies.
'Like Joss Stone?'
'I don't know who that is,' he says, shrugging his scrawny shoulders.
'Do you know anything about irony?' you ask.
He stares blankly at you. 'Is it important?'
'I suppose not,' you admit.
Next to you, Amalric gestures at the firearm Joss is holding. 'Young man, I don't think a long rifle like that is very suitable for gate duty. It would be a useful weapon if you were manning a guard post, somewhere you could take potshots at enemies from some distance away, but if you've got to move into close range to greet people you don't know, who may or may not be hostile, you'd better off with something less cumbersome.'
'Wow, preacher-man,' you say, shaking your head at him. 'Whatever happened to "Thou shalt not kill"?'
'There are a lot of dangerous people down here in the Bowels. I do what I can to keep people safe,' says your newest traveling companion, in a tone of long-suffering patience. 'It will be safer for everyone involved if the next robber or slaver who happens along this way doesn't immediately assume that this young man is an easy target.'
'We make do with what we've got,' says Joss, examining the rifle in his hands. 'It seems weird to be talking to you about this, but… what kind of gun would you recommend?'
'A shotgun, perhaps,' Amalric suggests. 'Or an assault rifle. Anything, really, so long as you can use it quickly and effectively.'
'I've got a shotgun!' you triumphantly proclaim.
'Are you willing to give it to this young man, as a gesture of kindness and charity?'
You shake your head. 'No!'
Amalric sighs. 'In that case, I'm not sure why you even mentioned it.'
'Anyway, I have some more questions I want to ask,' you say, turning to Joss. 'So… you used to be a slave here, right? Along with how many others?'
'I'm not sure I'm comfortable giving you that information, lady,' he says, lowering his rifle. 'Can't see a good reason why you'd need to know.'
'What was it like being a slave?'
'Oh, it was lovely! They let us stay up late and watch television, and we never had to do any work, and they gave us cake and jelly and ice cream to eat, every day,' says Joss, in a voice laced with so much sarcasm that you begin to worry he might overdose. 'No, of course it wasn't anything like that! I mean… what the bloody hell do you think it was like? Why would you even ask that question?! It was work, work, bloody work, every day, get beaten if you don't work, get beaten if you're not working fast enough, get beaten if the boss is in a bad mood, never enough to eat, never any time to rest…' His voice trails off. After a pause and some deep breaths, he continues, 'I saw some of my friends keel over and die. From then on, I was scared to get close to anyone 'cos I knew the same would happen to them, sooner or later. But I… I guess I was wrong. We survived. We rose up against them, damn near killed 'em all. And we won't be slaves again.'
He gazes into the distance for what seems like quite a long time, but it probably less than a minute. Then, his eyes focus on you. 'Does that answer your question, lady?'
'Yeah, that's as much as I need to know,' you decide. 'Um… do you know anything about the recent murders in "the Hole"?'
His reply is a stream of angry expletives. You're fairly sure that means "no".
'All right, the only reason I asked was… I'm investigating those murders. That's why I want to talk to one of the Rooks. I think they might have been responsible, or they might know something which would help me to figure out who the murderer is,' you say. 'Please may I speak to the last of the Black Rooks, the man you've taken prisoner?'
He stares at you for a while longer. Then, he seems to sag, as if overcome with weariness. 'I'll go… talk it over with the others. Can't make that decision on my own.
A short time later, you're escorted into Vault Five by two more skeletally-thin young people with guns. They take you to the small holding cell where they're keeping their sole prisoner. It's quite near the entrance, so you don't have to walk far.
'Clean Willie was always a coward. That's why we took him prisoner. When he was grovelling on the floor, begging us to spare him… ugh, it was too embarrassing to do otherwise,' says one of them, holding the door open for you. 'I don't expect you'll have any trouble with him, but give us a shout if you need anything.'
'His name is "Clean Willie"?' you ask, aghast. 'Why?!'
No answer to that question. The only response you get is a shrug.
Entering the cell, you see an ugly, rough-looking man dressed in a thin shirt and ragged jeans, presumably the clothes he was wearing when he was taken prisoner. He looks vaguely familiar – you can almost imagine seeing it depicted in dozens of 'Wanted' posters you've seen in all your travels throughout time and space – but maybe it's not his fault that he's got a stereotypically criminal-type face. What
is his fault is that he joined a gang of brutish slavers, so… well, you'll bear that in mind.
'Who are you?!' he yelps, glancing from you to Amalric and then back again. 'Don't I recognize you? You're that preacher from the Dung Village market, right? Sir, you've got to help me! They're going to kill me!'
'First, you can help us by answering a few questions.' He gives you a nod. 'Over to you, Frida.'
'Do you know anything about the murders in the area known as "the Hole"?'
'Yes, I'll tell you everything I know! And then you'll help me, right?'
'Um… It depends. What do you know?'
'I… uhh, I didn't see it myself, but… some of the Rooks – you know, that gang I used to be part of – I don't consider myself one of them anymore, yeah,' says Clean Willie. 'I'm a changed man!'
'Stick to the point!' you growl at him.
'Okay, uh… some of the Rooks found a small pile of dead bodies in "the Hole". They looked like they'd all been drained of blood. And, well… waste not, want not, haha… I mean, as a gang, it's best not to make waves. If people in authority thought the Rooks were getting too powerful, they'd send the robot legion to stomp us. But if we killed off a few of our rivals – just a few at a time – and hid the bodies, made it look like someone else had done it… that way, we could grow to become the most powerful gang down here in the Bowels without anyone being any the wiser. Uh, I was against it, of course! I thought it was a silly idea! And morally wrong, obviously!'
'I kinda agree with you, there.' You speak contemplatively, picturing the scene he's described in your mind. 'It sounds like an overcomplicated plot which didn't come to anything in the end. And I'm not sure if there was ever any point to it. I mean, wouldn't the other gangs have known who was responsible for the killings? Wouldn't they have seen how the Rooks were gathering power and trying to take over?'
'Don't blame me! I didn't have anything to do with it!'
'Also, you meddled with a crime scene and made it more difficult to bring a murderer to justice. I'm assuming there is a murderer, right? You found some bodies which had been drained of blood, so you decided to add to the pile. Which means that there's still a murderer out there, somewhere.'
He nods. 'Yeah, that sounds about right.'
What do you want to do next?
[] Ask Clean Willie some more questions.
-[] "Why do they call you 'Clean Willie', anyway?"
-[] "Do the Rooks have any treasure stashed away anywhere?"
--[] "What will you give me in exchange for helping you to escape?"
-[] Say something else (write in).
[] Speak to some of the former slaves.
-[] Ask them if you can take a look at any records, ledgers or financial documents (etc.) which the Black Rooks might have left behind.
-[] Ask them if they can corroborate Clean Willie's story.
--[] Ask them to let Clean Willie go free. He's harmless, right?
[] Go back to 'the Hole' and search for clues.
[] Go to the Dung Village market.
-[] Ask to speak to Ratcliffe in private. Ask him to tell you what he knows about the murders.
[] Do something else (write in).
