Turn 9
Part Two of Two
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Gerald reclined somewhat lazily in a worn armchair, a table at his elbow, a book in one hand and a drink in the other. With the trouble at the college he had little place to be on a Wednesday, and it gave him some time to catch up on his reading. He felt slightly guilty about taking pleasure in having a few days to himself when those days were gained by such terrible events, but it wasn’t as if he could help the college by being sympathetically miserable.
The only thing that could make this better, he thought as he marked his place and set the book aside on the table, was if Beth wasn’t working today. A day alone to catch up on puzzles, read, and relax was a welcome thing, but without her, well, the day just wasn’t alive anymore.
Gerald sighed and stood up, taking a last sip of his drink before setting it beside his book. His legs were a little stiff under him, a reminder that he’d spent quite a bit of his day in that chair, propped up in one position or another. Now he was restless, and not in a way that could be controlled by even the best of his collection of fiction. He needed to actually do something physical. He stretched, taking several cracks out of his back and fingers in the process.
He supposed he could take a walk, though it was still a little chilly in the season to make that enjoyable, and a long walk was one of those things that wasn’t even half as enjoyable to do alone. A boiling hot shower was appealing, but again, that was something that would be infinitely more enjoyable when Beth got home... Green thought about the hours that separated him from his fiancée and sighed, resigning himself to more mundane labors to pass the time a little. There was a kitchen drawer that didn’t quite shut right anymore, fixing it should be a good physical diversion, and perhaps an interesting puzzle as well.
The kitchen was really part of the dining room, –which in turn doubled mostly as the living room- separated only by a line on the floor changing from carpet to wood. Even with as few tools as Gerald owned, the combination of them and Gerald’s own body almost completely covered the kitchen area. Gerald smiled as he settled in and pushed his glasses back up on his nose a little ways, hoping that this would be an interesting problem.
[Solve Enigma 24 (margin 66), Detect Pattern 64 (margin 6), Mechanics 19-66-6 (Margin 48)] The work was hardly challenging, but it did take up Gerald’s mind nicely, not because of the intricacy of the problem (a screw had stripped from its place, partially jamming the cabinet track), but because of the pains the builder had taken to ensure that no human arm could fit inside to remove any obstruction from the track. It was only when the two cabinets below the damaged one were removed, a half a tube of grease was expended, and a little bit of wiggling, that Gerald managed to get his arm in deep enough to extract the screw and change its position enough to get it traction again.
Sweaty, but triumphant, Gerald fitting the formerly damaged cabinet back into position, feeling it roll back smoothly with a sense of accomplishment.
Gerald had just begun wiping the excess grease off his arm when someone knocked at the door. He frowned and checked his grease smeared wristwatch, only a bit before one, definitely not Beth without her key then. Gerald stood, attempting to get the worst of the grease off as he walked to the door, making a game of attempting to guess who was knocking. The post with a package, possible; the milkman coming to finally apologize for the weekly delivery of cottage cheese, not likely; one of his friends from the destroyed Miskatonic dorm coming to see if he could bum a room for a while, also possible; Beth coming home after quitting her job due to finding a vast wealth of diamonds in her purse, unfortunately that one was only slightly more likely than the milkman apologizing.
When Gerald opened the door onto the cold grey of the day outside, it didn’t reveal any of the numerous ideas that had flashed through his mind in the few short strides from the kitchen to the door. Instead it revealed a pair of men, one of average height, one a little on the short side. They both wore grim expressions and pistols.
”Gerald Whittaker Green?” The taller of two inquired.
Gerald nodded in surprise, taking a moment to realize that he should probably say something.
”Er- yes. I’m Gerald.” ”I’m detective Morgenstern, this is detective Smith. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your fiancée has been abducted.” Gerald stared blankly at the cops for a few minutes, attempting to absorb what the officer had just told him.
”Beth Winters?” He asked slowly, still not exactly sure what the man had meant by abducted, or by fiancée, or by half of the words that he’d just said.
”Yes, I’m sorry.” Detective Morgenstern’s voice was quiet but firm.
”May we come in?” Gerald stared at the two men dumbly, then nodded and stepped out of the doorway, shutting the door in silence after they entered.
Gerald turned slowly away from the door, regarding the detectives in a detached sort of way, barely aware that the cold wind from outside had turned his perspiration into a clinging chill. His house didn’t feel real anymore, not with a pair of police detectives in it, it felt like part of a book. He felt like he was reading his own life off a page, interested, but unattached. Any moment he would put the book down and the police detectives would vanish and Beth would reappear.
”What happened?” Gerald asked, morbidly curious about events that couldn’t be part of his world.
”Her employer,” the shorter detective, Smith, glanced down to look at his notes,
”Ambrose Rance, says she went out to give a set of pills to a man who’d forgotten to take them after paying. When she didn’t come back inside, Rance left the store and looked around for her, but both your fiancée and the stranger had already disappeared.” Gerald nodded, still not exactly sure how to feel about what the detectives were telling him. The words and the names were familiar, but they didn’t fit together, not in his life. The pieces didn’t go to his puzzle.
”Oh,” he said for lack of a better reply.
”She’s gone?” Morgenstern nodded, laying a hand gently on Gerald’s shoulder.
”Yes, but we are going to do everything in our power to make sure she comes back to you. But we have to ask you a few questions first. Do you understand?” [Endure 66 (Margin -61)] (-30 Sanity)
Something about physical contact brought reality back to Gerald. Stories and puzzles might look like this, but they could never reach out to touch you. Beth was gone, she wouldn’t be home tonight, might not be home any night. She wouldn’t come up on him while he was reading and tickle his neck, she wouldn’t listen and laugh when he read to her, she wouldn’t tell him what a good housewife he was becoming when he made her breakfast, she wouldn’t curl up against him, soft and warm at the end of the day. He might never get to see her sitting with his child.
Gerald didn’t remember much immediately after that, but he did remember he was crying; weeping tears pulled from a seething torrent of grief and nameless rage. His disbelief was gone, replaced instead by unutterable loneliness and pain.
”Mr. Green?” The voice was far away, meaningless noise. Gerald heard it repeat again, a mocking echo that went as unanswered as the first.
”Gerald,” a different voice began, a velvet bag filled with gravel.
”I know how you feel, more than you can know, but you need to open your eyes and help us. The woman who was to be your wife is missing, and I think that you know more about her than any person in this city, maybe more than any person alive. The Beth Winters who is missing, scared and alone, is the one who needs you now, not the one you hold tight in your memories.” Gerald’s head rose slowly from his hands, his vision blurred and tear streaked.
”What do you want?” He managed, his voice cracked and worn.
”Just answers,” detective Morgenstern said, pulling out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and offering it to Gerald.
Gerald took the handkerchief with a ragged noise that might have been a thank you, wiping his face and eyes. He still felt like someone had burned his mind and heart to ashes inside him, but at least he could see now. He was too numb to be surprised that he was seated now, propped up on his elbows at his own dinner table, both detectives sitting across from him.
”I’m ready,” Gerald said more steadily,
”whatever you need.” Morgenstern nodded once.
”How long have the two of you lived in Arkham?” Gerald closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember something as mundane as the month.
”Six, no, seven months now.” ”Either of you have any troubles getting adjusted? Anyone try to stir up trouble with you in the past months?” ”No, nothing that I can recall,” Gerald said, fiddling absently with his hands.
”Beth never liked it here, but she could never could quite tell me why. I mean, we were expecting a child, I always thought her anxiety was just a mood brought on by the baby…” He paused and shook his head, closing his eyes and letting his hands fold in front of him.
”I should have tried to listen to her more.” The other detective, Smith, leaned forwards as Morgenstern made a couple notes.
”Did Ms. Winters have anyone she would call if she desperately needed something, someone to get her out of the city when you wouldn’t listen? Family, or another man perhaps?” Silence reigned as Gerald absorbed the question.
”What are you asking me?” Gerald’s voice twisted from hollow to low and angry in a moment, his hands clenching almost involuntarily into fists.
Smith’s expression didn’t waver.
”Exactly what I asked you. Who would she go to if she needed to get out of this town and didn’t want you seeing?” ”I don’t know,” Gerald said between gritted teeth.
”What’s left of her family is a couple states away, and her only brother is on mission. She doesn’t have many friends here, I’m all she has. Now, why are you asking me this?” Smith stared at Gerald for a few seconds, then tapped his pencil on his notepad and leaned back.
”Your wife disappeared at the beginning of her shift, in broad daylight, and she did so with so little commotion that her employer, who was literally yards away, didn’t see or hear anything. Your wife to be is gone, that’s a fact, but what I’m wondering is if she wanted to be gone or not. Young woman, engaged to student, and made to move into city she doesn't like. I've heard worse reasons for a dame getting cold feet.” Gerald’s jaw worked for a moment, initially finding no words adequate to express his disbelief.
”No. No, if she’d asked me to leave the college and move to Spain with her, I would have, in a moment. I don’t know how we would get there, but I’d do it if she asked.” Gerald shook his head, his voice thick with rage.
”You don’t have a right to ask me this, not one goddamn right.” [Discern Truth 55 (Margin -10)] Morgenstern glanced at Smith, his expression unreadable.
”Mr. Green, we are going to do everything in our power to make sure she comes back to you, I promised you that and I meant it, but to do that we have to ask you questions that will be uncomfortable. You need to try and be calm.” ”Calm?” Gerald snarled at the detectives, his voice gaining a mocking edge and rising with each word.
”The woman I would burn the world for and consider it a more than even trade is gone, and not only that, but you’re asking me about whether she might have just left the city of her own volition. So, tell me, does my case sound like too much work for the police, or do the two of you have something going on back at the homestead and you just need to wrap this up quick so you can go home?” For few seconds Gerald just stood there panting, though he couldn’t remember when he got out of the chair. Then his fists unknotted slowly, and he sunk back down to the table, hot anger giving way again to empty despair.
”Are there go to be many more questions?” Gerald asked at last, more tired than angry. More tired than alive.
”No, just a few more,” detective Morgenstern said calmly, seemingly unfazed by Gerald’s outburst.
The questions didn’t continue much longer, a few from Morgenstern and a few less from Smith. Gerald answered them mechanically, barely aware of what he was saying, and forgetting each question almost as soon as the detectives presented the next. The fire that had briefly run through Gerald’s veins was gone, now he just felt like an animal being skinned; like the detectives were tearing something away from him, something he would have cared about had he not been dead inside already.
The detectives standing up from the table nearly caught Gerald by surprise; he hadn’t actually realized that their conversation was over.
”Thank you for your time, Mr Green. I’m sorry for your loss,” detective Smith said, the words rote and unfeeling.
Morgenstern lingered for a moment after Smith started for the door, writing something else down on his notepad. After he finished he tore the piece of paper off and pushed it in front of Gerald.
”Here, if you think of anything else, or if you just need to talk about things, this is where I live. Otherwise you can find me at the station, name is on there too if you need to call.” Morgenstern nodded once, a wordless acknowledgement that managed to convey a lot more sincerity and compassion than Smith’s farewell.
The detectives left quickly after Morgenstern handed Gerald the paper. Gerald didn’t bother to see them to the door. Getting up, even grabbing the note the detective had left, just took more energy than Gerald had right now. He was alone, and he had no reason to move. His books, pastimes and studies that he had intended to spend the week in, seemed pointless now. The entire week, once a prospect full of lazy days to read and catch up on everything that the university had forced him to leave behind, now was an almost unbearably empty prospect.
Gerald looked at the piece of paper on the table, summoning the energy up to put it in his pocket. It had been a gift, and Morgenstern seemed like the closest thing Gerald had to an ally right now. Gerald had the note in his hand when someone else knocked at the door.
Gerald looked at the door in resignation. More questions, or more bad news? He smiled bitterly to himself at that thought, no news could be any worse than what he’d already been given.
”If you’re here to talk to me, come in, the door is unlocked. If you’re here for another reason… just leave,” Gerald called raggedly to the door, not bothering to get up.
The door swung open almost before Gerald finished speaking, admitting a plain but well dressed woman his own age. She was slender and noticeably shorter than Gerald; even standing she was scarcely taller than he was sitting. Her face was surprisingly square jawed for a woman, the clean lines of her face sharpened instead of rounded by the addition of makeup. Her skin was tanned more heavily than most city women, and there was a roughness to the way she carried herself that spoke of an unusual past. The tight bun of blond hair and the pantsuit made her look professional in an oddly masculine way, but the brown eyes that looked at Gerald with as much compassion as a pair of stones almost made her look inhuman.
”Kind of you to invite me in,” she said after she closed the door behind her.
”Mine name is Eliza Heart, if necessary you may call me miss Heart. Now, did the police tell you to remain in your home?” Gerald stared at the woman. His first impulse was to ask her who she was, but she had already covered that. Not exactly in an illuminating way, but she had covered it.
”No… Why are you here?” ”I was sent here to bring you to my employer, a man who wants to help your wife. Since the law doesn’t care where you go, I suggest that you come with me.” The woman’s hard face went thoughtful for a moment, as if she was attempting to remember how to show some form of empathy for another human being.
”Or is there a problem for you, something you need to do before you can leave?” The question, delivered in an inert tone, seemed to be the limit of her people skills.
”I-“ Gerald faltered, trying understand this woman’s sudden involvement. He had no idea who she was, had never even seen her before, but she wanted to help Beth, or at least take him to someone who wanted to help Beth. That alone was enough to make him take her seriously. Gerald coughed hoarsely and stood up, looking around his house.
”No, not really. I’ve got some things to put up and I need to check the mail, but that can wait.” ”You have no mail, I already checked,” Eliza said brusquely. [Discern Truth 37 (-7) Vs Lie 66 (-16), Gerald Wins]
Gerald frowned. Not only was that an highly unusual thing for someone to just do, but he was fairly certain that “Miss Heart” was lying about his mail. He had no idea why she would, but he thought she was lying all the same.
”I have a car waiting outside,” Eliza said, pausing slightly impatiently as she considered Gerald’s expression.
”Is there something else?” Location: Own Home
Status Effects: None
Health: 45/45
Sanity: 30/60
HeadHair
BodyButton up shirt (Sleeves Rolled up)
LegsDark Grey Suspenders
-Small slot:
Wallet-Small slot: Empty
FeetPlain Brown Shoes
L. Hand-Infinite Slot: Empty
R. Hand (Greased)
-Infinite Slot: Empty
Special:
WristwatchCarried Weight 10/45
Injuries: None
Attribute Bonuses: +5 Per, , +10 int, +10 Wis, +10 Wil
Attribute Penalties: -5 Str, -5 End, -5 Agi, -5 Cha
You are in your own house. You are currently seated in the merged living/dining area. Eliza Heart (Stranger) is by the door to the outside.
There is an exit to the bedroom to your left.
There is an exit to the bathroom behind you.
The kitchen area is off to your right and behind you.
The door to the outside is to your right.
Loose Items
Own home, roll can be made to find a specific item that could reasonably be found.
---~~~---
Patric didn’t have the time or the rats ass of concern necessary to figure out what was wrong with his fellow newblood, instead he resorted to his usual solution for things; hitting it until it got better. [Brawl 27-20 (Margin 28)]
Patric’s backhanded slap knocked Jerry sideways a little, splitting his lip back open from where Rake had hit him. [Jerry Endure 16-28] The thug spluttered and clutched his ruined lip in pain, but he looked more confused than anything else.
”Wha-? She was… beautiful…” Jerry whispered, swaying on his feet.
”I need to find her, I nee-“ Jerry didn’t get to finish due to Patric grabbing both of the thug’s ears as handles, painfully jerking the bleeding man’s face until it was an inch away from his own.
” "Snap outta it,"” Patric roared.
”RUN. That way,” he added, shoving Jerry in the direction of the exit.
The thug stumbled at first, but he managed to pick up a sort of lame jog after a few strides. He definitely wasn’t well, but he’d received the best supportive care that Patric could offer. Now Rake was the one who needed his help.
Rake was still sprinting over to the shard that he’d spotlighted, and Patric ran after him, following the dancing glow of Rake’s light.
Patric was almost halfway to Rake when the singing started. The sound seemed to grow out of the unseen laughter, a silvery thing that didn’t seem to have a distinct pitch or volume, it simply was, and yet… It seemed to be missing something, an indescribable void in the music that Patric wanted to fill and flee from in equal measure. [Endure 48 (margin 2)] The song, if it could be called that without any recognizable notes, wove its way through Patric’s senses. His skin felt wrong on his body, as if his bones had been twisted under it, making it lie strangely across his body. It was only through cold will that Patric kept moving, trusting that he could still put one foot in front of the other. The feeling didn’t stop, and even his limbs felt crooked and strange under him, but he didn’t stop to think about it or check.
[Rake endure 97 (margin -57)] Rake’s reaction to the corrupted melody was different, for the worse. His flashlight went skittering out of his hands as he doubled over, grasping at his stomach in agony. The senior enforcer struggled to remain upright, to remain walking, but he didn’t make it another two paces before he fell to his knees.
Patric caught up to Rake as the older man collapsed onto his side. Patric stood over him helplessly before Rake’s snarling visage twisted to face him.
”The… splinter, get-” The enforcer’s rasp cut off abruptly as the tone of the song changed, gaining an ugly overtone, a tarnish on the silver melody. Rake’s jaw slammed shut, blood leaking out of the side of his mouth from where he’d bitten into his own tongue.
Patric bolted out into the darkness to try and find the piece of box that Rake had been trying to get. The increasing amount of sunlight streaming in from the ceiling was helping, but the thin wisps of yellow grass that carpeted the floor ke-
Sunlight?
Grass?
Patric’s search halted as he stared at the cellar around him, uncomprehending at what the bright golden glow that seeped in through cracks in the ceiling was revealing. The walls of the winery cellar, so clear in the earlier light of the enforcer’s flashlights, were now melting away. From the packed earth of the cellar floor grew thin tendrils, sickly things the color of jaundiced flesh. They twisted in time to the music, pulsing and growing ever thicker in the light that streamed down from above. It was strangely beautiful, and as indescribably wrong as the melody that saturated it.
”It’s all right, Patric,” whispered a soft voice behind him, comforting and beautiful.
”You won’t find it, but it doesn’t matter. Just look at me, everything will be all right.” [Singer Persuasion 69 (Margin -9) Vs Patric Lore 71 (-66)]
Patric’s feet shifted under him, making him turn slowly to face the door that had fascinated the other newblood. The action wasn’t something that Patric had intended, but it wasn’t exactly against his will either. The song still filled his mind, dulling his thoughts and clouding his vision, making it hard to see anything but the woman who seemed to almost complete the alien room with her presence, almost.
She was… beautiful, almost perfect. Patric couldn’t even bring words to mind to describe her; no word in English seemed quite adequate to capture any single part of her. The melody of tarnished silver seemed to emanate from her, but her lips didn’t move to shape the song. She smiled, beckoning Patric to come to her as she walked toward him. The tendrils that now completely covered the floor parted between them, opening a path. [Patric Endure 97 (-47)]
Patric abandoned the search for the piece of crate, any other goal than reaching the strange woman forgotten. She was what was important now. The impossible weeds and corrupted sunlight were meaningless, the stench of rotting meat that filled the air was merely irksome, and the melody… it seemed almost complete now, growing brighter and more whole with each grudging step he took toward her.
The woman flowed forwards to meet Patric; each step to him a liquid motion that echoed the sway of the jaundiced tendrils. She stopped when she was close enough to touch him, and Patric found that he had no desire to close the distance further himself. The woman smiled at him, a slow, sad smile. She reached out to touch him, her small hand seeming to hum in the still air.
Patric felt that he could take that hand if he wanted, and he knew it would change things if he did. Part of him wanted to reach out to her and make the touch voluntary, part of him didn’t feel adequate to touch her perfect skin with his calloused hands. A third part of his mind was screaming and crying, but that primitive part of his brain wasn’t in control.
A good thing, since the being that his older mind saw was a vision to make a strong man dig out his own eyes and never regret the action.
(Sanity -10)
Location: Abandoned Winery
Status Effects: None
Health: 75/75
Sanity: 42/55
Head Fedora (No spots)
Body: Open collared shirt
-V.Small slot: Empty
Black Drape Suit
-Small slot: Empty
-Small slot: Empty
-V.small Slot: Empty
Legs:Black Trousers
-V. Small slot:
Wallet-V. Small slot: Empty
-V. Small Slot: Empty
-Small Slot Empty
Feet: Black Shoes (No Spots)
L. Hand-Infinite Slot: Brass Knuckles
R. Hand-Infinite Slot: Brass Knuckles
-Special Slot: Trade Family Ring
-Special Slot: Wristwatch
Carried Weight: 2/55
Injuries: None
Attribute Bonuses: +5 Str, +15 End, +5 Will
Attribute Penalties: -10 Cha
You are in the cellar of the abandoned winery. Shafts of light stream down from above. Pulsing yellow tendrils cover the floor. The cellar smells of death decay. Music that you can't quite describe fills the air. There are numerous dusty crates and barrels strewn about, most of them are broken and in various stages of decay. Rake (Trade Senior Enforcer, Allied, Direct Superior) is here and is writhing in pain on the ground behind you. Two trade enforcers (Allied, superior by experience) and a thug (Trade faction, allied, colleague, slight inferior by action) have fled beyond your vision.
Directly in front of you, close enough to touch, is a woman that cannot describe with anymore accuracy than you describe the broken song that fills the air. She is reaching out to touch you.
The exit is behind you.
There are several doors on the lefthand wall of the cellar.
The aging cellar continues on ahead of you.
Author
Topic: City of Madness; Arkham. Ch. 1: The Lord of Broken Song (Read 30282 times)