“Well, Remilia always said ‘learn best by doing,’ so sh-“
You hold up a hand. “Stop. Stop, please. I am entirely not drunk enough for this.”
“But you’ve drunk like seven glasses!”
“And it is still not enough to want you to tell me that story. I think I need to get blackout drunk for that. Speaking of; barman, another White Russian if you please.”
Flandre is still nursing her whiskey sour. “So why didn’t you run?”
You down the White Russian and signal the barman for another. “Because I don’t care anymore.”
“But… it’s no fun this way! I’ve been waiting here for such a long time for you~. And you don’t even want to play and make it interesting.”
Flandre puts her hands on her hips and turns to face you. “You just want to get me drunk so you can run off.”
“Nope. I want to drink to forget. You’re going to take me back, and then I get to be Remilia’s mind-slave again.” You twirl your hand in the air half-heartedly. “Whoopie.”
Flandre frowns. “I don’t like seeing you so sad.”
“We don’t have to go back immediately.”
You raise an eyebrow at her.
“I just want to see you smile again~!”
“Good luck on that. I’m going back to mind slavery, had the guy who rescued me try to kill me as soon as I had the slightest shred of hope, the one guy who actually was willing and able to help me, and he turns it back on me.”
“…You know, you did try to kill him first.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill him!”
She cocks her head at you questioningly. “Does he know that?”
Well. Shit. “…Probably not.”
“You think that might have had something to do with that, dumbass?”
“Where did you learn to talk like that?”
“I’ve been here a couple months. People in this city aren’t too nice. But you’re avoiding the question~”
“Fine. Yeah, that probably had something to do with that. Did it work, though?”
“What, trying to fake your death at his hand?”
“Kind of. Remilia’s not too sure you’re alive. Yukari doesn’t know, either, but that’s because she didn’t bother to look when you were in Gensokyo, I think. But now that you’re out of Gensokyo, I don’t think she could find you anyway.”
“Why didn’t Remilia just ask Yukari to look?”
“Remilia? The one who has a chip on her shoulder, always something to prove, and tries her hardest never to look weak or dependent on anyone? Come on. You know her better than that.”
“…Yeah. Good point.”
“But that’s all beside the point. Tonight I want to see you smile~”
You down your last White Russian and grin fiercely at Flandre. “Fine then. Drink up. We’re gonna have a good time.”
Flandre notices she has another whiskey sour that you ordered for her: she grabs one, downs it, and then chugs the other.
“Put it on our tab, barkeep.” He nods.
oh god my head
Every beat of your heart is though a brass band with the world’s largest bass drum has been marching through your head. The throbbing is unbearable. Your mouth is sticky and dry. You’re face down on concrete, and can vaguely see a little light through your eyelids.
“Finally awake?” Flandre doesn’t sound quite so chipper.
“Unh,” you grunt in the affirmative.
“You know where we are?”
“Uun.” You shake your head. You’ve made better decisions. It’s as though your brain is sloshing around in fluid that is made entirely out of pain and fire.
“One of the… um… police officers? One of the police officers called it the ‘drunk tank.’”
“How… how we get here?” Words are slow to form in your mouth.
“Well, for you, they kind of threw you into the ‘paddy wagon’ and you rode on the floor. I kind of fell on the seats. And then the wagon bounced, and I fell on top of you.” She trails off.
“There… there’s an ‘and then’, isn’t there?”
“There’s an ‘and then.’
“Are you gonna tell me?”
“…Okay. So I landed on top of you, and you just groaned and whimpered a little.”
“I’m not done.”
“So I pushed you over so that I could have a little bit of floor to lay on, and I had laid down next to you. I guess I accidentally elbowed you in the stomach or something…”
“You… kind of threw up all over me. Right in my face.”
“Oh God, Flandre, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. The police were nice enough to let me take a long, hot shower.”
“I’m kind of surprised you let them arrest you.”
“They promised me a shower. I really wanted a shower after that. I think they spent about two hours hosing out the wagon.”
You force yourself up. Yup, you’re in a sparsely appointed cell, with two beds, and Flandre sitting on one with an ice pack on her head.
Ha. Ha ha. Vampires can get drunk. Ha ha ha.
Laughter hurts your head, and you let out a groan and slide over to the wall.
“Why’d they arrest us?”
“Well… a couple of reasons. So we left that bar, right? The first thing you said after that is that we ‘need more alcohol. Lots more alcohol.’ So you threw a rock through the front window of a liquor store. I asked you why you did that and you said ‘Shhhhhh. I’m stopping time.’ Then you walked right through the hole, which, incidentally, ripped your dress quite a bit, walked right past the guy at the counter, grabbed two bottles of vodka, and said to the counter guy, ‘Shhhhhh. You didn’t see me.’ And walked out.”
“He didn’t try to stop me?”
“Well. The tears in your dress gave him a bit of a view. Young guy, couldn’t stop from staring.”
“And then the cops arrested us?”
“Oh no. No, we walked by a theatre. You gave me one of the bottles of vodka, told me to drink it, and started drinking yours. Then you saw the theatre, shouted “I want to see Hamlet!” and ran in.”
“Were they showing Hamlet?”
“Nope. Can’t remember what it was. But you got in there, and started shouting.”
Flandre takes a breath. “HAMLET, LOOK OUT! THE VAMPIRES ARE GONNA BITE YOU! LOOK OUT HAMLET! OH GOD, I CAN’T WATCH THIS! I CAN’T WATCH THIS! OH NO!
“And then someone in the audience told you to shut up. He made a mistake.”
At this point you’re cradling your forehead in your hand.
“You shouted ‘WHICH ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS SAID THAT? WHICH ONE OF YA’LL DEAD MOTHERFUCKERS SAID THAT? WAS IT YOU, FATSO?’ And then you pointed at this skinny guy. ‘SAY IT AGAIN, FATASS.’ I don’t think it was him, anyways. But it was him now, to you.”
“He said ‘Just be quiet and watch the show.’ That set you off on a tirade. ‘OHHHHHH, NOW YOU FUCKED UP! NOW YOU FUCKED UP! NOW YOU FUCKED UP! YOU HAVE FUCKED UP NOW!’ And then you threw your empty vodka bottle at him. Completely missed him. Hit someone a few rows back. It shattered, and there was screaming and blood everywhere.”
“And then we got arrested.”
“Nope, not yet. You just kept shouting at the guy. ‘WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?! HEY!’ He said ‘WHAT!’ Then you said ‘WHAT!’ at the top of your lungs, and punched the guy right in the face. That set the crowd off to run out of the theatre. And then we left.”
“…And did what?”
“Well, by that time, I’d finished my bottle of vodka, and I can’t remember too clearly. You were standing in the middle of the road, a busy road at 2 in the morning, with a megaphone you had gotten somewhere, and were shouting ‘I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD AND I DECREE ALL TRAFFIC MUST STOP!’ Cars drove by you, and you shouted at them for violating your royal decree, and you threw things at them. That’s when the police showed up.”
“Yup. They arrested you and I for being ‘drunk and disorderly’, or so they put it.”
“What were you doing?”
“Well…” You realize that Flandre isn’t wearing the red dress she was last night. In fact, that dress is nowhere to be seen, and she’s wearing just a T-shirt and some bike shorts.
“And that’s mostly it.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember a lot of it. I kind of vaguely remember you throwing me out of a second story window. And then jumping after me. Not sure what that was about.”
You laugh and then sink down onto the concrete, and smile. “Hell of a night.”
Flandre smiles. “Told you I’d get you to smile~”
Choices voted for in the previous update will be showing up later. In addition:
[ ] Be Flandre.
-[ ] Write-in.
[ ] Be Sakuya.
-[ ] Write-in.
All moved in and settled in in the States, so I should be making more updates in a more timely manner. Also I have some shorts I want to write. That board was the greatest idea. The recap has taken waaaaaaaaay too fucking long, so once I get my computer shipped in from Okinawa, I’ll just post a link to an .odt of the story so far.
I hate to bring this up, since this is from the first thread, but was the investigator leaving the casing behind a plot point we never picked up on, or a mistake? revolvers don't expel casings when firing.
>So you threw a rock through the front window of a liquor store. I asked you why you did that and you said ‘Shhhhhh. I’m stopping time.’ Then you walked right through the hole, which, incidentally, ripped your dress quite a bit, walked right past the guy at the counter, grabbed two bottles of vodka, and said to the counter guy, ‘Shhhhhh. You didn’t see me.’ And walked out.”
If a H-scene is possible;
[x] Be Flandre.
If it isn't;
[x] Be Flandre.
-[x] Be hungover. Try to break out of jail. Fail miserably.
Also, Will Flandre and the Investigator ever interact in a non-hostile manner?
Time for a recap! Since last time we had Kotohime do it, it's time for someone who probably isn't obsessed-
“I'M NOT OBSESSED! HE'S A VERY NICE MAN!”
Get out of here you're not even recapping what are you doing.
Anyways, we'll go for a conflicting viewpoint, that of Wriggle Nightbug, ace investigator!
“You haven't even put me in any recent updates! I'm a minor character at best!”
“But I'm supposed to be the one that takes that asshole down!”
This kind of was the plan but...
“But what? Don't give me that crap! You're just going to let that asshole get away with all of this then! No consequences or anything!”
No, of course no-
“Shut up! Just give me the story!”
You know you won't actually remember any of this when the story continues, right?
“Fuck you. I know this will incriminate him.”
Alrighty then. You have fun with that.
“So here we are at the beginning of the second thread, and I'm trying to get Patchouli to help me. But of course she doesn't believe anything I say.”
Oh woe is you, the long-suffering avatar of justice.
“Hey! Don't give me any lip. I'm the one running this recap, and I won't take any crap from you. Anyways, it still was pretty funny when Patchouli fell out of the beanbag chair onto her face. She's almost lazier than Kaguya. Hey... we haven't actually seen Kaguya, have we? Even though the story went to Eientei?”
Stop speculating! You know that just ends badly for anyone involved.
“She's immortal. What could you even do to her?”
Oh god you don't want to ask that question just get on with the recapping.
“And then we get back to the flashback part where he's hiding Sakuya's body. And of course I was there so it's not really a flashback if I'm recapping it.”
You are never going to come back for a recap. I hate you so much already.
“Quit your bitching. Whiny loser. Blah blah blah lake, blah blah blah mausoleum, massive amounts of bones and bodies and dead things, possibly a sentient evil entity blah blah blah. Why didn't it just eat him?”
The same reason he's still alive now: a combination of general incompetence, flagrant lies that he pulls off with enough confidence for people to believe them, and general dumb luck.
“And the hat.”
And the hat.
“Well at that point after dealing with the wholly ineffectual Patchouli, I figured I'd need some kind of ally. The Investigator's got Aya, so I figured I'd get Hatate on my side. How did that happen, anyway? You never really expounded on that.”
By virtue of you meeting the one person in Gensokyo that could deal with a personality as abrasive as yours.
“Shut up. Anyways, next update, Kotohime riling up Mokou while Meiling tries to save a badly-burnt Remilia. Kind of wish I was there. Could be entertaining to watch the Investigator's fangirl get her ass handed to her.”
That doesn't quite happen.
“And... Kotohime handles Mokou like Mokou was a rank amateur. I am in awe. I am never going to get in a fight with her.”
Wait for it...
“And then her hatred of Aya takes over, she goes off mumbling to herself, and gets nailed in the head by Mokou. Dumb bitch.”
“And Mokou is kind of a bitch to Yamame. Bet she regrets it now that Yamame's dead.”
And here it comes.
“Tewi finds the body. I FUCKING KNEW IT WAS HIM.”
That was the thread before yours. Stop being so smug.
“Fine. Tewi finds Eirin and Kotohime... and Kotohime handles it in entirely the wrong way. Way to be insensitive, jerk.”
Kotohime's actually a nice person when Aya or the Investigator isn't involved.
“But he is involved!”
Not like she knows it.
“I'll tell her.”
You know she won't believe you.
“You're a dick, you know that?”
Yeah, yeah, quit your bitching and get on with the recapping.
“Aya helps, glossing over, don't care...”
Single minded, eh?
“Shut up. That asshole investigator rolls up to Eirin all how-do-you-do with that arrogant swagger, and shows his 'expertise' in doing the case. Eirin's not gonna be happy in the slightest when she finds out that he killed her drug buddy.”
Drug buddy? Is that what you're calling it?
“What, you got a problem with that? I calls them as I sees them.”
“And then three months pass, and someone finally notices Sakuya's gone.”
Yeah, you'd have thought the Scarlets would have said something about it sooner or noticed it sooner.
“Well, the mansion burned down and all that.”
Eh. Just something to think on.
“Interesting. I'll have to follow up on that lead.”
“Well what? He's still a murderer.”
But he didn't kill Akyu.
“Which... is unexpected. I kind of did not see that coming.”
Yeaaaaaaaaah. You're both right and wrong: he is a murderer, but he didn't kill Akyu.
Do you have any suspects, Ace Detective Wriggle?
“Umm... Kotohime? She's crazy enough but... eh, no motive. Keine? Then that brings up the question of who whacked her. I don't think it was her, but it could have been. If it was, that trail's gonna come up real cold.”
Doesn't make sense, does it?
“Well, you've got to look at it this way- Akyu's whacked. There goes the keeper of records. And then Keine gets whacked. There goes the one who can see all of history. Yamame's the outlier here, her death was kind of a killing of opportunity. Who'd have profited from the stop of the recording of history?”
“What, like Kaguya and Reisen? It's kind of odd how we haven't seen Reisen since the Investigator got his hair dyed, and we haven't seen Kaguya at all. I wouldn't point the finger at Eirin, because of how she reacted to the death of Yamame. The Scarlets? If I didn't know what Sakuya had been up to this whole time, I'd say her. But the Scarlets might have done it.”
What about Yukari?
“She wouldn't have done it herself, she'd have used a cat's paw.”
Heh. Cat's paw.
“What, you know something I don't?”
“So what, is it Chen? Some goddamn cat joke?”
Wouldn't it be more likely to be Ran?
“Also a possibility.”
Let's keep recapping. We'll come back to this.
“Okay. I need a bit to think anyway. Well, there's Keine's brutal murder scene. I'm sure there's clues to be had there.”
Probably. Worth a look. The Investigator's not in Gensokyo anymore, though.
“Yeaaaaaah... wait, really? How'd that dick get away from me?”
Reimu did something right for once.
“Miracles do happen. Maybe Kotohime should check it out. I mean, she's not totally incompetent...”
Why not you?
“Why would I look? You said I'd forget all this.”
Because it you might think it had been the Investigator that killed her, even though it wasn't.
“So... did I check?”
Dunno. We might have to flashback on that one. You think you'd work with Kotohime on that one?
“...Maybe. Not that dick investigator though.”
“And then Suika.”
She a suspect?
“Nah, probably not. She doesn't seem bright enough to have pulled this off.”
Yeah, she doesn't seem like the sharpest knife in the drawer.
“Not very nice, but can be true.”
So, gonna recap this?
“What's to recap? The investigator gets his ass handed to him by a small oni girl, and it's hilarious. Though in retrospect I don't suppose it makes sense that he'd be taking advantage of Suika- he couldn't have even if he wanted to.”
“And then Sakuya rolls in and focuses the Investigator on what he needs to do. She... kind of kept that anger bottled up pretty deeply. Wonder why.”
Oh man you really don't want to know.
“Man. Um. I don't know what to say. Let me just quote her here.”
'Charisma' isn't the word for it. She says something... and you just get this feeling, deep in your chest, that you have to do it. Even when your own mind is screaming at you not to do it. Do you know what it feels like, to be a prisoner in your own body?'
“Ouch. That is some shit. Nobody even knew about this?”
I don't think anyone quite suspected that's what she meant by 'charisma.'
“That's fucked up.”
No, keep going.
“Okay, this is fucked up.”
'We'd... capture and breed people. They are vampires, remember. And they didn't feed on natives of Gensokyo. The Scarlet Devil Mansion has... extensive sub-basements. Where we bred humans like cattle, for slaughter. We wouldn't have had to, either, if it had just been Remilia. She had enough control to not kill people herself. But Flandre... she couldn't. Every time she'd feed, she'd kill someone. We'd have to bake people into her food. People! I still remember the smell of cooking people.
'Do you even know where those people came from? Do you?'
'They only stopped grabbing people after Remilia used her 'charisma' on me.'
“Oh. Oh dear God. I think I'm going to be sick.”
It's... not pretty.
“I'm... I'm almost glad I won't remember this.”
Yeah, I kind of envy you that.
“Ugh. Let's go on. Anyways, he finally determines to get out of Gensokyo with Sakuya... and then goes to see Yukari.”
Now let's consider them as suspects again.
“Okay. Why would Yukari antagonize him into investigating again if she's done it? Wouldn't she want him to be all 'oh that's cool I give up on the case now' if she killed or had Akyu and Keine killed?”
Probably. Bitch has got layers and layers and layers. She could be doing an elaborate double blind.
“Now that shit's just too complicated. Not buying it.”
Eh. Just throwing it out there.
“Yukari's not dumb. Putting him on the case again when she'd done it is just dumb.”
Fair enough. But what if it was another member of the Yakumo household?
“And she doesn't know it? Hmmmmm. Bears thinking on.”
And there's a whole host of other possibilities, like that she might be setting him up. She's a fairly good manipulator.
“Man. My head hurts just thinking about it.”
Yeah. Let's go on.
“So... he was planning to kidnap Chen?”
“But he didn't.”
Nope, left before he had a chance.
“Damn. Even though he wasn't going to kidnap Chen as part of the investigation, but just to get back at Yukari, something important might have shaken loose. Damn, damn damn damn.”
You sound like you really want to get to the bottom of this.
“Damn right I do! Someone's got to stand up for justice here!”
“Right, recap. Man this is dragging on.”
Don't remind me.
“Right. So, we're gonna gloss over this whole 'returning to Detroit with Reimu's help' thing, because yeah, it happened, not much in the way of clues.”
Damned if Kotohime took it badly though.
“Yeah, can't imagine she would.”
I kind of agree on the glossing over of this part, nothing too plot important except him accidentally leaving his hat behind.
“Yeah, what happened to that hat?”
“Oh, and Sakuya tried to get into his pants?”
It's not something he hasn't seen before. Crazy dames come to him, he helps them solve problems, and they try to repay him in the only way they know.
“So, what, he's trying to be nice to Sakuya?”
I don't know. I kind of doubt it.
“What, is he gay?”
Um. I- what- uh?
“I said it. Is he gay?”
MOVING ON. MOVING RIGHT THE FUCK ON.
“So they're in this Detroit, on a cold November day, and he shoots her. Fade to black. The end. Well, that was unsatisfying.”
You know, a scene like that was originally how I had planned to end this story. I've gotten a bit attached to Sakuya, I guess.
“I see that. Because Flandre saved her. Where the hell did she come from, anyway? And why does she look all grown up?”
The first one I can't answer, but the second one is obvious- vampires work differently outside of Gensokyo.
“So, what, more Anne Rice like?”
How do you even know who she is?
“Rinnosuke gets all kinds of things.”
Right. No, not quite like Anne Rice, but kind of a middle ground- inhumanly powerful, but not loli or with the powers of danmaku or kyuu~ ing like she's used to.
“Ah, I see. So she's kind of shaped to the reality to fit in better.”
Yeah, I guess that's a good way of putting it.
“Interesting. And I see that Ichirin is in Detroit.”
“Curiouser and curiouser. I can see why Sakuya would go with Flandre after the Investigator tried to kill her. Is Avery his real name?”
Considering how truthful he's been up to this point, probably not.
Also, yeah, Sakuya's been riding an emotional rollercoaster. I almost feel bad for her.
“Does that mean you're going to be nicer to her?”
Hell no. What kind of hack writer do you think I am?
“But that scene with Flandre was kind of heartwarming...”
Shut up. I'll have none of this from you.
“Hahahaha. I finally got to you.”
Right. Maybe I'll even make you less than a bit character for this.
“You damn well better. Now I want to know who did Akyu and Keine. And that asshole's gonna pay for what he did to Yamame.”
Okay then. Welcome back to Compensation: Adequate, after entirely too long of a hiatus!
[ ] Flashback with Kotohime and Wriggle investigating the Keine murder scene
– [ ] Be Kotohime
– [ ] Be Wriggle
[ ] Sakuya and Flandre in jail
– [ ] Be Sakuya
– [ ] Be Flandre
[ ] Aya and Kotohime left all alone in Gensokyo
– [ ] Be Aya
– [ ] Be Kotohime
[ ] Where's that fucking Investigator asshole?
– [ ] Be Wriggle
[ ] It's not every day you get a hole blown in your hand...
– [ ] Be Ichirin
– [ ] Be the Investigator
[ ] Where the hell's the hat?
– [ ] Be the hat. You can't be the hat!
– [ ] Be Reimu?
Flashback will be soon, I need to review my notes that aren't here at the moment.
[x] Sakuya and Flandre in jail
– [x] Be Sakuya
[x] It's not every day you get a hole blown in your hand...
– [x] Be the Investigator
You're awoken by the sound of your cell door sliding open.
“Ladies, it's your lucky day, someone posted your bail.”
“Posted bail? Who would have done that?”
You look at Flandre. She shrugs.
A man in a snappy three-piece suit waltzes into the cell, the kind of person that dirt doesn't even seem to cling to, a kind of person who is above dirt.
“Miss Izayoi, Miss Scarlet. I am James Nugent, and a mutual friend of ours has arranged your release. You are, of course, free to go, but I would appreciate if you would come with me, and we have things to discuss in my office.”
Again you glance to Flandre- and again, she shrugs. She is as baffled as you are by your sudden turn of luck.
“Well, what are you going to do now?”
“I don't know.” You shake your head. “I haven't been here in Detroit for some time now. I'm a little out of the loop.”
Unzan chuckles. “I've been keeping an eye on things.”
“Yeah. Whatever you told Ichirin may have worked for her, but I know there's something more to it than 'I don't know'.”
“So what, you think you know?”
“Calm down, son, stop getting so uppity with someone who just fixed your hand. I just came across some information you may want to know. But hey, you're the Investigator, so badass hardly anyone even knows your name.”
You sigh. “Look, I'm sorry. Could you please share your information with me?”
“Ha. Knew you had a polite bone in you there somewhere. So. You remember Johnny Two-lips and the rest of his gang, right?”
“You can't possibly mean the same Johnny I know. He's not competent enough to lead ducklings in a straight line.”
“I do mean him, but he's not leading anything. Look, the gang you know just bailed those two broads out of jail, the two that you were with earlier. Including the one that shot you.”
“How did you know there were two?”
“A little birdie told me. Now look, a lawyer by the name of James picked them up...”
The car that James had waiting outside the precinct pulls up to a nondescript building a little ways off of Grand River. Of course, you've not noticed this at all, being that the windows are heavily tinted and James has been asking you questions, and engaging you in small talk.
Finally, you and Flandre arrive in his office a few floors up, and he gestures you to the two leather chairs in front of his desk for guests.
He walks over to the liquor cabinet in his office. “Ladies, could I get you something? Whiskey, a nice bourbon perhaps?”
You think to yourself that drinking may be a bad idea, what with the having been arrested for it and all. Flandre doesn't think so, having asked for a whiskey on the rocks. Water may be the safer bet for you after all, and you let him know.
As James seats himself in his chair, he sets the ice water before you, and the whiskey before Flandre. He pours himself a straight gin, no ice.
“So who is our mutual friend?”
“Well... Our mutual friend is the kind of person who has been trying to get in contact with Avery for quite a while now, but hasn't been able to. He was kind of hoping the two of you would be able to help him in this endeavor.”
“Avery?” Flandre looks confused. “I don't know anyone by that name.” She looks at you. You shrug.
“I don't know anyone named Avery either.”
“Really? A private investigator type, not the nicest of people?”
“Ohhhhhhh, you mean him. Now that I think of it, he's never actually given me his name.”
James leans back in his chair. “He tends not to do that with people. I don't think Avery's even his real name, just one of the pseudonyms he adopts when it's convenient.”
“Right. So why does your friend think that we can help him locate this Investigator?”
“Oh, it's simple. He'll come anyways.”
You slosh the drink around, with the slowly melting ice in your water, and take a sip.
Flandre speaks up. “I don't know. He's not a very nice person.”
“Oh? How so?”
“He tried to k-”
You place your hand on Flandre's shoulder. “He doesn't need to know anything about that.”
James leans back in his chair. “It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything.”
“That's great. Can we go now?”
He gestures grandly to the door. “Please feel free to make your way out.”
You stand up, and immediately feel woozy, and fall right back down into the chair. Flandre's drink has already slipped from limp fingers.
“Wh- what have you put in the drink?”
“Oh, nothing, just some ice.”
He laughs, and the world goes black.
“Who's this James Nugent guy?”
“One of their frontmen. An accomplished con man. Not the most physical type of guy, but smart like a fox. The girls are with him now.”
You get up and immediately check your holster. Your gun is not there. “Where is my gun.” It is not a question, but a demand.
Unzan chuckles again. “I'll get that to you. Let me get Ichirin. We'll see what's to be done.”
The radio crackles in your earpiece. “You know who you're aiming for, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, the guy with the green hair.”
“Alright. Be ready, I expect him within the next two hours or so.”
You stroke your long rifle. Of course I know what color his hair is. I helped with that.
Select one from each group:
[ ] Be the Investigator.
[ ] Be Ichirin.
[ ] Be Unzan.
[ ] Storm the lawyer's office immediately.
[ ] Slip into the office undetected.
[ ] Leave the girls to their fate. (You asshole.)
[ ] Write-in.
>>153392 It really was. I had also made the mistake of writing this after about eight straight hours of drinking. Didn't even realize this was up until the morning after... so, I guess I'll just roll with it for now.
I am going to skip the last vote because I obviously burnt out, and that means that I need a change of style to stop the burnout again. And because this new style will really help with the next “scene” sort of thing. And I have better ideas in mind this time.
You storm down to where Unzan parked his car.
Or rather, you would, if you knew where it was parked. You reach the bottom of the stairs and realize this. Scowling, you wait for Ichirin and Unzan to follow you down the stairs.
Ichirin chuckles a bit when she sees your face, and Unzan is obviously holding back one of his belly laughs.
You scowl a bit harder.
Now Unzan actually laughs. “Come on, don't be so angry. We're going to go and get them back.”
This does nothing to help your mood. “How are you so upbeat about this?”
“I haven't gotten a chance to crack some heads for a while now! This is exciting.”
Ichirin is carrying what looks like a briefcase. You gesture to it. “What's that?”
“Oh, nothing. It'll just help me with watching you and Unzan when you go in.”
“You're not going with us?”
“No, I've got something special planned.”
By this time you've reached the car. Unzan hops in the driver's seat, and Ichirin gets in the back, leaving shotgun to you.
Unzan smiles and hits the dashboard above the glove compartment. It falls open, revealing a sawed-off shotgun. “That'll be my dancing partner tonight. I've got a couple other things, you want one?”
I've got my gun, and I've got my knives. Should be good. “Nah, I think my friends can handle it.”
Unzan grabs the shotgun, and lays it across his lap. “Your loss.” He reaches into the glovebox a bit deeper, and pulls out what appears to be a miniaturized Tommy gun. He tosses it back to Ichirin. “You might need that.”
She pulls off the drum, checks it, and cocks the weapon after reattaching the drum. “I hope not.”
Unzan laughs again. “Eventually someone's going to get close enough to you to make you use that.”
You're impatient by this point. “Look, can we just go? We might be on a deadline.”
“Don't get your knickers all in a twist, we're going.”
You drive for a while, and now you're a block out from the office.
Unzan stops the car next to a tall building that overlooks the office on the other side. Ichirin hefts her briefcase and her Tommy gun, opens the door, and gets out.
“What's she doing?”
“Playing guardian angel for us both.”
“What, from here?”
“No better place.”
You gesture to Ichirin struggling with the door that seems locked, with her two full hands. “She's doing real well already, isn't she?”
Unzan facepalms, and shouts out the window: “Look, I know it's locked, just hit the glass in the door with your case!”
“But that'll scratch it!”
Unzan looks at you. “I'll be right back.” He opens the car door, and walks over to the door where Ichirin is trying to get in. He then punches the glass door, and shatters it. “There. Not locked anymore.” Ichirin bows to him, and disappears inside.
“Didn't that hurt?”
“What, a little bit of glass? Nah. I didn't even touch it.”
“But then how did-”
“My secret.” He smiles. “So, how do you want to handle this?”
[ ] Well, we could just go guns blazing through the front door. I'm Rambo!
[ ] We could look for a skylight and jump in through that. I'm Batman!
[ ] It's a block to the front door, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and some bitch stole my hat. Hit it.
[ ] Look I'm sure we can be reasonable about this, there's got to be a backdoor somewhere that we can just quietly steal in through because I'm Sam Fisher.
[ ] I'm absolutely certain I can just talk my way in there, because my name's Bond. James Bond.
[ ] Write in
These updates will be shorter as I am going to try and make them daily for the duration of this scene so that there can be more choice in how to go about this. Also I have not forgotten about Aya/Kotohime. Promise.
I've just read it through...I'm just going to say this story reminds me of Ovid*. Or of Kefka. One moment I'm laughing...the next, I'm feeling sick at myself for laughing at the death and misery. If that's what you were going for, congratulations.
“It's only a block there, we'll be fine. Besides, we have to wait for Ichirin to get set up.”
“Yeah, what did you think she was doing?”
“I'm gonna be perfectly honest, I didn't really give it any thought.”
“You remember that briefcase, right? She's got a disassembled long rifle in there.”
“Wait, she was going to snipe for us?”
“More or less.”
“I almost feel bad now. I can't really see her being all that useful with this plan.”
“What's this plan of yours?”
“Kind of hard to explain. Let me drive.”
Unzan shrugs. “Sure, whatever. Just try not to scratch the paint.”
“It's an old cop car that you got at a police auction! The paint doesn't even match!”
“It's my old damn cop car.”
You smile. “I'll try.”
“She should be fine now, so whenever you're ready.”
Oh man I have wanted to do this since forever “It's a block to the front door, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and some bitch stole my hat.”
Unzan cocks his shotgun. “Hit it.” I think he thinks we're doing a driveby. Do ho ho ho ho ho ho.
You floor it, and tires squealing, round the corner, yank the wheel again, and swing to point directly at the front doors of the office building. The bored-looking guard outside the door doesn't look so bored anymore- in fact, if you had to guess, he's probably shit himself, as you ramp up the stairs to the door at the glass facade of the building.
Man it would have sucked if they had built this out of brick, wouldn't it? You love modern architecture with all its plate glass windows.
At this point Unzan is shouting about you being: a madman, not knowing what the fuck you are doing, and even though you're ruining his car that this is still pretty goddamn awesome.
You don't care. The car flies through the glass, shattering it and sending shards everywhere, as the outside guard dives out of the way.
“Got it.” You swerve, narrowly avoiding running through the receptionist desk, and the mildly attractive broad in it.
“Where are the elevators in this thing?”
You shrug. “Was thinking the stairs would be just fine. I mean, they worked for the front door, didn't they?”
“Do you even know where they are?”
“Nope! I just know they're in here somewhere.”
Unzan is shaking his head as you plow through an office, and stop inside
“Don't you go shaking your head at me! There isn't nearly as much space in here as I had originally thought!”
“What did you think this was, a mall?”
“I'd kind of hoped. Look, are you going to help me find the stairs or not?”
“We could drive around back and ask the receptionist.”
“That is a great idea.” You shift the car in reverse, and back up all the way into the lobby with the stunned receptionist again.
You roll down the window. “Hey, toots, could you point us towards the stairs? I think we're a bit over the elevator weight limit.”
Her face is completely white as she points down one of the side hallways.
Unzan's voice is completely flat as he notes this: “I can't believe it. This is one of those buildings with the really wide staircases.”
And it totally is. In fact, you're pretty sure you could drive up the stairs. The problem is of course that the stairs are “decorative” and split into two different directions, perpendicular to the beginning of the stairs, in a T-shape. You're certain you can get up those stairs. You aren't certain that you can make those turns at speed, on the stairs.
Well, really, there's only two options. Slow down is not one of them.
“You don't even know that they're upstairs!”
“Call it a hunch. Shut up, and let me drive.”
[ ] Tuck and roll, let Unzan keep the car warmed up for when you come back
[ ] It's like those stairs WANT to be driven up! And who am I to deny them that?
In which I am terrible, and never update, things happen.
[x] It's like those stairs WANT to be driven up! And who am I to deny them that?
Of course he's not going to make it easy. No, he can't just walk up to the front door where I can blap him. No, the side door's too good for him, the side door that opens into an alley where I had put all of those claymores. And of course he can't go through the skylight on a roof where I'd wired it with explosives. He drives straight through the front door.
All that preparation and that fucking asshole had to drive straight through the door.
You reach down for your radio, and decide that you've really got to warn your... well, client. The word suffices.
“He got in.”
“He got in? How?”
“Weren't you covering that?”
“How did you manage to not peg him?”
“I'm a good shot. I'm not a good enough shot to peg a man in a fast moving car.”
“So that crash.”
“Was him driving straight through the front door. You might want to get out of there.”
The door opens behind you- almost silently. Almost.
“Look, I've got company. I'll take care of that and check back in on you after it's taken care of.”
You release your grip on your rifle, and pull your 1911 from your hip holster.
“Are you really going to do this?”
You smile. You haven't felt this alive in... well... a while. It's nice to actually be Doing Something instead of skulking about in shadows.
“Bet your ass, Unzan.”
You gun the engine, and drop it into gear. The old cop car shoots forward, and up the stairs.
Thunking madly as it takes each of the steps under its tires, you shift again, gaining more speed.
“Don't you, you know, want to slow down so you can turn?”
“Slow down? We're fine, I got this.”
You almost have enough time to shift into third gear as you rocket up the staircase, but you think better of it, and crank hard on the wheel to the left, pulling the old Cadillac on two wheels.
“Pipe down, you old bag, I got this!”
“You're going straight for the railing!”
“I got this!”
As you say those last three words, you can hear the railing splinter against your fender. Cadillacs were never really known for their tight turning radius.
You don't got this.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
You don't know how many times you shout “fuck”. Judging by the expression on Unzan's face, he's doing much the same thing. You can't quite hear him over the sound of your stomach dropping.
“-straight through the front door. You might want to get out of there.”
The front door? Never a good choice. Personally I'd have just talked my way in, but that's just me.
In between your thoughts, you decide that the door you're hearing the talking behind might be a good place to check out, considering someone's already been watching this. And besides, it's a good lookout spot anyway.
You grab the doorknob, turn it silently, and push the door in.
Unfortunately, the interior designer rather liked shag carpeting. The kind that makes a sound when a door is pushed open over it.
“Look, I've got company. I'll take care of that, and check back in on you after it's been taken care of.”
Welp. Looks like they know I'm here.
Your hand goes automatically to your Mauser, as you drop the briefcase containing your rifle.
Just wanted to get in here quietly, but nooo, someone's always got to be on the ball.
You dive out of the doorway as three rapid shots splinter the door and fly through where you were just a moment ago.
“It could have been the cleaning staff, man! You never knew!”
“Look, I've got company. I'll take care of that and check back in on you after it's taken care of.”
You shake your head.
He drove through the goddamn front door.
Not quite what I had expected.
“Well, ladies, it looks like we'll be having company soon enough.”
Flandre has managed to work one hand free enough to give you a singularly rude gesture with it. Sakuya looks bored, but you can see she's hiding some surprise.
“I'd hoped that we could have just taken him out on the way in, but by sheer dumb luck, your friend Avery has managed to avoid our preparations.” You shrug. “It's alright, though. I guess I'll just have to do it myself.”
Now Sakuya can't hide her surprise. “Why is Avery coming here? He tried to kill me!”
“D'aww. You can't even see that he cares. Hate and love aren't too far apart.”
Flandre spits at you. “Fuck you, James.” She's been doing that for a while. She's actually a pretty good shot with it. Hasn't quite gotten you yet though, but one loogie landed on your new loafers. You're going to enjoy throwing her out the window.
Oh, was that not mentioned? You have both of them tied to chairs next to open windows overlooking a ten-story drop. All it'll take is one good kick, and out they go.
You spread your hands in your best 'what did I do?' gesture. “No pleasing you, Miss Scarlet, is there?”
As you secure the strings to the triggers for the shotguns pointed at the office door, you whistle a jaunty tune. They're aimed, of course, at knee level- you're going to enjoy this. You'd honestly expected your sniper friend to take him out- but since she couldn't, no harm in enjoying it yourself a little.
You pull out a third shotgun from your office desk drawer, and place it on top, in plain view. Not in plain view, of course, is the fourth shotgun under the desk, pointed at Sakuya.
What she doesn't know, can't hurt her, right?
You chuckle a bit more to yourself.
Do please vote for each of the characters listed.
[ ] Be The Investigator.
– [ ] Welp.
– [ ] Yeah, you're pretty much screwed.
– [ ] Any bright ideas?
– [ ] Seriously, full speed up those stairs wasn't too bright.
– [ ] Was fun though, I guess.
– [ ] Write-in.
[ ] Be Ichirin.
– [ ] Flashbang through the door.
– [ ] Push the door wide open, take cover on one of the sides of it.
– [ ] Kick door open, dive in with guns blazing.
– [ ] Wait outside the door. Patiently.
– [ ] Write-in.
[x] Be The Investigator.
– [x] Any bright ideas?
- [x] Put your head down, grab to something as hard as you can and pray that your seatbelt works its magic.
[x] Be Ichirin.
– [x] Wait outside the door. Patiently.
[x] Be Sakuya.
– [x] Welp.
[x] Be the hat?
YES THIS IS AWESOME AND THIS IS BACK AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE'RE YELLING ABOUT.
I'm not too sure about staying in the car though. I was about to change it for '[x]You're boxed in! Jump out of the car!' but I feel that jumping out would reduce our survival chances dramatically.
[x] Be Ichirin.
– [x] Flashbang through the door.
[x] Be The Investigator.
– [x] Put your head down, grab to something as hard as you can and pray that your seatbelt works its magic.
– [x] AD VICTORIAM EX MACHINA
[x] Be Flandre.
– [x] Attempt to activate your vampire hypnosis powers.
– [x] Aren't I super-strong anyways?
[x] Be Sakuya.
– [x] Welp.
God, what you wouldn't give for a flashbang grenade. But noooooooo, you just had to leave those at home.
So. Improvisation, then.
That large, potted plant will do nicely.
You silently set down your Mauser, and nip over to the other side of the hallway to grab the plant, which is in a ceramic pot almost as big around as you.
Thankfully, the door's open-ish, so the latch won't impede the forward progress of your improvised flashbang.
You heft it and throw with all your might, and the pot flies through the door, banging it wide open, and crashing into the shag carpeting. Which, incidentally, wasn't soft enough to keep the pot from shattering, and spraying bits of plant and chunks of soil everywhere. In the time between throwing the pot and its landing, you've already scooped up your Mauser, and as you step from one side of the doorway to the other, you let fly three .32 ACP rounds at a shadow you see moving inside the room. After doing that, you dive into the room, roll, and come up in a crouch behind a kitchen counter.
“Did you just throw a plant at me?”
“Maybe. Did it work?”
Fuck. Seatbelt. Where is the seatbelt.
Your inner voice is calm, cool, and collected.
The same, however, cannot be said for your actual voice: F-bombs continued to rain down like this was Warsaw.
Where. Is. The. Goddamn. Seatbelt.
Your hands, however, seem to be in the control of your subconscious: you grab that seatbelt for dear life, and slam it down over you. You even manage to get it into the slot, first time.
Shit, you can't even do that when you're just driving a car regularly.
You don't even wear seatbelts regularly.
This is kind of how you got into this mess.
The car slams down on two wheels, tips a bit, then the heavy Detroit steel undercarriage and the big block engine slam the other side down. It's on four wheels again.
And still running.
“WHOO! Fuck you, gravity! Not today! Cadillac just made you his bitch!”
Unzan looks a little dazed. He smashed his head on top of the car when you landed. Tough old guy's not out, though.
“Well. I think stairs are out.”
And then an idea hits you. You still don't have to go up the building on foot and deal with the inevitable goons that are probably in this building.
You can use the elevator.
Not the regular elevators, of course, that'd just be stupid. Those are sure to be watched. But a large building like this? Guaranteed there's a service elevator in the back for lifting heavy things up to the top floors.
Cars are heavy things.
Now you just hope that the elevator can hold a car.
With a smile on your face, you shift the car back into gear, and drive right back out the hole in the front of the building that you made with the car.
“Why, why're we... leav- leaving?”
Unzan's still not quite all there.
“You look tired. The elevator's easier.”
“When. Outside? When did they install an elevator outside?”
“Why are you still staring at me?”
Apparently your vampire hypnosis powers didn't make it across the border with you. You think. But vampire strength is out- shit's not some cheap-ass flimsy aluminum handcuffs. These things are steel. Heavy as shit, too.
Doesn't mean you can't stare that douche James down, though.
Or call him names.
“Now that's just unladylike. Stop fidgeting around in your chair, I might get the idea that you're trying to escape, and then I'd have to push you out the window. Then where would we be, I ask you?”
“Come over here and try it. Guarantee I can take you with me.”
“Oh, scary. Lookit you, so tough.”
It is kind of hard to escape when you've got four sets of handcuffs, one on each limb, secured to a sturdy metal chair.
“You should be more like your friend there.” He gestures to Sakuya, who's sitting there with her head down, and shoulders shaking a bit, as though she were crying. “I don't have to push her out the window. She's not mouthy. You could learn a thing or two.”
James twirls his finger in the air. “Whoop-de-doo.”
“Why are you doing this? What's your stake in it?”
“What, you're expecting an evil monologue? Nope, I'm already doing badly enough just by keeping hostages instead of killing you now.”
You didn't really care, anyway. You just want to keep him talking, so that the room doesn't go silent, and so he can't hear the soft sawing sound coming from Sakuya's chair.
“Look, I don't even know who you are, and now you're shooting at me, throwing potted plants...”
“You shot at me first!”
“Technicalities! Don't you try to turn this around on me.”
You rummage through a drawer with one hand, while keeping your other on your Mauser and trying to continue watching the room. Can never have enough things to throw and use as distractions.
“And now you're going through the silverware. Maybe this is my apartment that you just broke into. Maybe that was my potted plant. And now it's going to be hell to get rid of all that dirt in the carpet. You didn't even think of that, did you?”
“No, can't say as I did.”
You throw one of the forks towards the source of the voice, and immediately pop out to the side of the counter, weapon searching for where your opponent might be. A bang, and the fork is split in two. You saw where the shot came from, but it's in a well-shielded alcove that you can't get a line of fire to.
“And now you've got me shooting my silverware. Thanks a lot, asshole.”
“It's not even yours!”
“You don't know that.”
“Would you really be sniping from your own apartment?”
“Sniping? That's, uh... a telescope.”
You've taken the car to the alley in back of the building where the loading ramps are. The ramp ends in a shuttered garage, with what looks like a locked control box next to it.
The service elevator is probably somewhere in that garage.
Please choose for all listed characters:
[ ] Be the Investigator.
– [ ] Pick the lock on the control box, open the door.
– [ ] Shoot the lock off of the control box.
– [ ] The Cadillac's bumper also doubles as a handy key!
[ ] Be Ichirin.
– [ ] Try and talk to your mystery opponent.
– – [ ] And then shoot the broad when she lets her guard down.
– – [ ] Or, you know, disarm her. Somehow. You'll think of a way, right?
– [ ] Write-in.
[ ] Be Sakuya.
– [ ] Continue sawing away.
– – [ ] Escape at your first chance, try to surprise this asshole.
– – [ ] Wait. Bide your time. Pick your moment.
– [ ] Write-in.
[ ] Be Flandre.
– [ ] Continue being “mouthy.”
– [ ] Possibly spit at him again.
– [ ] Write-in.
I haven't forgotten about the other characters, I just don't want to break up this scene just yet.
No bumper keys? Aww. I'm disappointed in you, Anon.
[x] Be the Investigator.
– [x] Shoot the lock off of the control box.
– [x] For god's sake aim correctly and don't something stupid like shooting the control box instead.
[x] Be Ichirin.
– [x] Try and talk to your mystery opponent.
– – [x] Activate swag.
– – – [x] If ineffective then kneecap.
[x] Be Sakuya.
– [x] Continue sawing away.
– – [x] Wait. Bide your time. Pick your moment.
[x] Be Flandre.
– [x] Continue being “mouthy.”
– – [x] Use charisma to be naughty too.
And sadly, you shift the car into Park.
Unzan still seems a bit out of it, so you're going to have to do this yourself. Considering that the door might have something behind it, or a load-bearing support farther behind it, charging through with the bumper might not be the best idea.
But goddamn, it would be fun.
Anyways. The control box is locked, and you need to get that open. You pull out your revolver, and spin it around your finger a couple of times.
Gotta shoot the lock. Don't feel like picking it. And I don't think I have my lockpick on me. I'd have to go into the safe for that.
You take aim at the lock and fire.
The lock is still on the control box.
The control box has a brand new hole in it. Where could that have come from? Obviously a sniper that fired at you and missed. Couldn't have been anything else.
“Look, I think we could work this out peacefully.”
“And yet you've just come in, shooting at me, in my own apartment!”
“It's not even yours!”
“You don't know that!”
“We had this conversation already.”
“Maybe it's a sign.”
You chuckle to yourself. “You've made a powerful enemy today, sign.”
“What are you on about?”
Those ventriloquism lessons come in handy. 'Oh,' your mother said, 'those will never be useful, Ichirin! You'll never make anything of yourself with them!' Well, screw you, Mom. I'm a successful businesswoman/contractor now. And you're throwing your voice to where you were. To where that weird bunny-eared girl thinks you were. While you've sneakily gone up to the wall that she's hiding behind. Silently picking up the baseball bat along the way.
“Nothing? Are you gunfighting or not?” And to punctuate her statement, she leans around the corner, gun leveled at where you were, as she squeezes off a shot.
Your first swing is aimed squarely at her kneecaps. A satisfying crunch and exclamation of “shit!” confirms you've hit your target. But your target is good, and as she crumples, the 1911 falls towards your head. While your second swing is upwards toward her forearms.
As the 1911 skitters across the ceiling, the red-eyed bunny-eared girl crumples in a heap. Nice suit jacket, though.
“And the home team hits a walk-off home run!”
“Maybe you should come over here and say that to my face.”
“Are you trying to get me riled up? Really?”
You're still covering for Sakuya, though she's stopped filing. She's probably done, just waiting for her moment.
“Maybe~ Is it working?”
James leans back in his chair. “Nope.”
“Aww~.” You wriggle about in your chair, trying to get one of the straps on your tank top to fall off. Well, you would. If you were wearing one. Stupid T-shirts. They never work. You settle for trying to push your chest out as seductively as you can, and lick your lips. “You know, if this was a different situation, I'd enjoy being tied up~”
He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Really now.”
“Yup.” You pout at him. “But here I am, all tied up with nothing to do. You really don't know how to show a girl a good time, do you?”
“Ms. Scarlet, you're trying to seduce me.”
“Is it working?”
James gets up, and places his foot squarely on the edge of the chair. He leans down real close to you. “No.”
At least spitting on him that time was extremely gratifying. Got him right in the eye.
Unzan steps out of the car, grabs the bottom of the door, and yanks it up. It rolls right into the ceiling.
“Never think to try the door first.” He's laughing at you.
“Laugh now, old man. You ready for this?”
He nods. “We got this.”
You get back into the old Cadillac, and pull through the garage to the service elevator in the back. Not much interesting in this garage, just a forklift or two, and some boxes.
Unzan gets out, hits the button on the elevator, and it opens to a entirely larger than you expected elevator. The sign reads “3 ton load capacity.” What could they be thinking to take up there that weighs three tons? Convenient now, though.
Anyways. Time to pick a floor. Lots of buttons.
[ ] Be the Investigator.
– [ ] Pick a floor. (1-12)
– [ ] Press all the floor buttons!
[ ] Be Sakuya.
– [ ] Now?
– [ ] Nope. Wait for it.
[ ] Be Ichirin
– [ ] Write-in.
[ ] Be Flandre.
– [ ] Write-in.
Can't really think of anything for Flandre and Ichirin, but if you can, feel free to make a vote.
Right me if I'm wrong here, but hadn't you originally been planning for the story to be completed at the end of act 2? Pushing stuff past its expiration date is something you should never feel obligated to do, even when it does produce epic things like the hangover scene in >>146393.
However comma, I'm still enjoying the violence and idiocy going on here, so feel free to continue this if that's your choice - either way, I'm chomping at the bit.
[x] Be Flandre
– [x] Aggro control = Taunt repeatedly.
[x] Be Ichirin.
– [x] Disarm, tie up, interrogate. In that order.
Elevator music. Have you ever mentioned how much you hate elevator music? No? Well, at least with this elevator, there is no music. Just the hum of machinery. You're heading up to the 12th floor, where the elevator tops out. You probably can't get the car onto the roof. A damn shame, really. Welp. Anyways. It's probably the best idea to start at the top and sweep downwards: most of the goons are probably heading down to the ground floor to where you made all that commotion.
Wait, shit. If you had actually planned this, this would have been a masterful distraction.
Well, it still is. And I didn't have to plan it! I'm just that good!
Yeah. Yeah, you're just that good. Right. Don't even have to plan. Just comes naturally for a professional like you. Yeah.
Unzan's relaxing in the passenger seat, tapping his shotgun against his hand rhythmically, with the bumps of the elevator as it goes up.
Soon, you'll be on the top floor. And you think you've got a great escape plan ready.
“Wait, are you saying you're gay?~”
“Wha- No! You're a hostage!”
“So you don't have your way with your beautiful hostages? You've got to be gay.”
James looks confused as hell. That's a great start to sputtering rage, in your experience. Shame you just can't explode him.
“Look. You're both very, um,” He looks unsettled by this turn of events, “good looking women.”
“And you won't take me now. So how long have you liked men?”
“I don't like men!”
“Okay, fine, little boys. You deviant.~”
“I really regret not having something to gag you with.”
“Ooh, you're into S&M? But I'm all tied up here!~”
“You tried that already.”
“Oh? So I did. But back then, I didn't think you were gay.”
Come on, come closer, Sakuya's got a surprise for you... Why she didn't take that last chance is beyond you. But she's always had a good sense of timing. Ugh. That pun was terrible. You hate yourself a little more for it.
“I'm not gay!”
“What, little boys don't count anymore?”
“Look. I've had enough of you!”
“So what are you gonna do, tough guy? Gonna come over here an' make me regret it? I think I'd like that.”
“No. I'm just going to push you out the window. I don't even know why I still have you. The trap's already been baited..”
James starts to walk towards you.
Come on, Sakuya, do your thing.
“My kneecaps! You broke my fucking kneecaps!”
“Quit your complaining. You and I both know it's temporary.”
“What are you on about? Shit's broken!”
You pat her down for more concealed weapons as she cringes in agony.
“And now you're taking advantage of it to feel me up!”
“Hardly. I'm a professional.”
“Well, yes. A client of mine wanted to safeguard her interests, and provide an opportunity to return to her the services of a man she had thought secured.”
“You mean that asshole Investigator.”
“Yes. I do. Look, Reisen, you're the one who colored his hair so that you could pick him out in a crowd easier and take the shot without any question of who it is.”
“How do you know who I am?”
“Like I said. Professional.”
At this point, you've ziptied her hands and feet, so she can't start to lash out at you physically.
“Who are you working for?!”
You smile and lean back to look at her.
“I'm not the one tied up. I should be asking questions. Now, my question is: who hired you to kill him?”
“One of the mob bosses here.”
“Nah, Reisen, I don't buy it. You're from Gensokyo. Here's what I think. You've been hired to keep him from coming back onto the case and solving those murders.”
“What if I am?”
“Then whoever hired you, obviously, has a link to those murders. If not that they did it themselves.”
“And your employer cares?”
Anger flashes in your eyes for a moment. “Yes. She cares.” And then you punch Reisen in the face. “Akyuu was my friend, you bitch.”
Twelfth floor. Completely empty. No walls, only two elevator shafts, a stairwell, and plate glass windows constituting the entire outer wall.
You start laughing. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. You've got the best escape plan.
It is literally the best.
Unzan cocks an eyebrow at your laughing, but says nothing about it. You get out of the car, but leave the key in the ignition for a quick getaway.
“Well, Avery, we've got two choices here. Obviously they're not on this floor. Stairwell or elevator down?”
>Look, Reisen, you're the one who colored his hair so that you could pick him out in a crowd easier and take the shot without any question of who it is.
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa... Eirin is pissed about Yamame and sent Reisen out to wax him? I have no idea what the fuck is going on anymore.
[x] Be the Investigator.
– [x] Fuck that, ceiling tiles!
[x] Be Flandre.
– [x] Welp. Let's hope Sakuya's got a plan.
>>158474 I've tried, and mostly failed, at making this a fair-play mystery. I've got one last stab at that where you've got a chance to figure out what is going on before it gets all explained, but I think next time I will be better prepared for something like this. Fair-play is hard, man.
[X] Be the Investigator.
–[X] Fuck that, ceiling tiles!
[x] Be Flandre.
–[x] Welp. Let's hope Sakuya's got a plan.
[x] Be Sakuya.
–[x] Right the fuck now.
[x] Be Ichirin.
– [x] Enhanced interrogation.
You start tearing up the carpeting covering the floor.
“What are you doing?” Unzan is completely baffled.
“They'll expect us to use either of those. But if we go in through the ceiling, they'll never see it coming!”
“And you're basing this on... what, exactly?”
You shrug. “I haven't thought this all the way through. But there's got to be a way to get through the floor here. How else would they get between the floors to maintain the stuff going through them?”
“Have you considered that they might go through the ceiling for that, the part of a room that ISN'T expected to have people walking all over it?”
“Oh. Right. Um.” He's got a really good point. Seriously, why did you think this would work? Sometimes you're so dumb.
He's pissed. Something about you saying that he's a “flamboyantly pedophiliac homosexual” didn't go over well. And so now he's looking like he's got murder in his eyes.
Everybody's a critic.
As James stomps over to where you sit, when he gets within a step or two, he simply stops.
Incidentally, in the same motion, he seems to have grown a knife in his chest. Hilt-out, of course. That's a silly power to have. And then collapses. Also a silly power.
Sakuya's standing up and walking over to him in the same motion, and she briskly pats him down for handcuff keys. She unlocks one of your handcuffs, and gives you the ring of keys to finish unlocking yourself.
“Lookit that. You are shit at searching people, James. Anyone ever told you that?”
“But I-” A little bit of blood comes out of his mouth. Sakuya slaps him.
“But I nothing. What's your stake in this?”
“I can't tell you that! They'll kill me!”
“Now, James, that's a bad way of looking at things. That knife will kill you, probably. The lack of that knife, when I remove it, will kill you, definitely. Your friend will kill you, maybe. Your priorities in order yet?” She twists the knife a bit. “Or am I going to get my knife back?”
You finish unlocking your handcuffs, and shake them off. Since Sakuya's kind of on a roll, you'd be remiss to interrupt her.
“No! No, she'll-”
“Oh. She. Now we're getting somewhere, James.”
Reisen's gonna have herself a nice black eye. Maybe two, if she wants to continue being such a bitch.
“Look. Since you're going to be a bitch about it, maybe we play a little give and take.”
“Give and take?”
“Yeah. I'm going to give you a bit of information, since I'm feeling nice. Then I'm going to take this baseball bat, and start breaking your long bones.”
Smash. Your bat comes down on her shin, hard. Reisen shrieks in pain.
“That one didn't even break your bone, you pansy.” You adopt an 'innocent' expression on your face. “Oh. Look at me. I'd forgotten. I went straight to the 'take' part.”
“So let me give you a piece of information, Reisen. My employer is not happy that she had to track down the Investigator. At all.”
Reisen's voice is a little rough. “So what does that have to do with me?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about your employer's part in this. In the fact that obviously you were in on it from the beginning. That you knew, no, that you know who killed Akyu.”
So you swing again. That one breaks the shin bone this time. Baseball is such a fun sport.
Thoroughly chastised, you and Unzan slink down the stairs. Man it would have been so cool to bust in on James through the ceiling. You never get to do anything cool.
Those thoughts are foremost in your mind as you reach the bottom of the staircase, and club the previously-bored-looking goon over the head with the heavy barrel of the .44. At least you're being quiet. Unzan's working on quietly interrogating said goon with his gun as to the whereabouts of your friends.
Finished, he clubs the goon over the head again, and then tosses him out of an open window for good measure.
“That's... not particularly subtle, Unzan.”
He shrugs. “Won't be waking up to raise the alarm, though.”
That's a really good point. Why didn't you ever think of doing that? You look down, out the window, and see that he's landed in the parking lot. Just short of some asshole's BMW. Little bit more distance and it would have been perfect. Can't always get what you want, though.
“In any case, he had seen some guys carrying some passed-out dames up here, on this floor.”
“You think that's them?”
“Only one way to find out, really.”
The hallway outside the door to the stairwell goes in two directions- left terminates in the glass window wall, passing a couple of offices, and the right curves off deeper into the building.
[ ] Be the Investigator.
– [ ] Left
– [ ] Right
Any suggestions for the rest of the currently active characters are welcome, but now the only one you have main control over is the Investigator.
Quick update: Updates will come a bit late, because Civ 5 expansion. Glorious Northern China will crush the pitiful southland nations. Couple days. Just so you know I'm not dead or wallowing in depression (which isn't something I'm prone to anyway.)
Left. Left. What's left? A hallway. Some glass. Left pocket! Your flask. You grab it, and triumphantly hold aloft your flask. Filled with gin. Glorious, glorious gin. You take a belt from it, and choke it down by sheer force of will. Yup. That's hardboiled. You hold it out to Unzan.
“Fuck it, why not?” He shrugs, and accepts it from you. He manages to take a swig and not even wince. He's even more hardboiled than you, and shows it.
Right. You take your flask back from Unzan, and the warmth of liquid courage fills you from your core outwards. “Okay. We're going left. And screw being quiet. We got this from here on.” You do got this. You got this like nobody's ever had this before.
You stride confidently to the first door down the hallway to your left. You motion to Unzan to cover the side the door opens to, and he nods. What he's nodding for, you don't have a clue. You've never practiced this sort of thing before. But speaking of practice: You've had plenty of practice breaking down doors. Never shoulder charge it like in the movies. Use your foot. Kick that shit open. Yeah. That's how it goes. Unzan cradles his shotgun, and looks at you, waiting.
With a solid kick, the door flies open, and Unzan rushes in to secure the room. Oh. So that's what he was doing. Right. The room's empty, but it's a pretty standard “receptionist desk” setup. With a door behind it.
There's nobody in the room, but you're sure that the door behind the desks is worth checking out. However, you still need to out-hardboil Unzan, so you run towards the desk, and vault onto it, sliding like a pro to the end of the desk. You put your legs out to land on, and manage to get one of your feet caught on the carpet.
So you go crashing down, face first, onto the floor. Well done. Unzan starts to laugh at you. “Shut up.” You wave a finger at where you think he is, as you're still on the floor, nursing your wounded pride. “I will throw you from the window if you laugh.”
It doesn't faze him, but he manages to get it down to a more respectful snigger. “When you pick yourself up, I'll kick this door open. I want to do at least one.” Maybe he'll break his foot. You can hope, right?
“Sure, go right ahead, and be my guest.” You ready like Unzan did, gripping your revolver in one hand, and drawing a knife with the other, as you stand by the opening side of the door.
Unzan kicks the door, and it flies open. You only have time to think that it's a shame that his foot didn't break, as you charge in through the open door to rescue a dame in distress.
You see the vampire who shot you look at the door, and her eyes widen in surprise. This is, of course, before your entire field of view is filled with carpet once again, for you've been tripped as you dashed in gallantly. Immediately as you land, and skid a bit, there's a knee in the small of your back, and a knife at your throat.
Goddamnit. It has just been one of those days, hasn't it?
“W- Avery?” Sakuya's voice. Son of a bitch, you're going to die.
You feel the floor vibrate slightly as Unzan steps in, and he racks a shell for dramatic effect. That's just wasteful, you know? He's going to have to put that shell back in the gun. “Get off of him. Or I'll remove you.”
Sakuya stiffens on top of you, and removes her knife, and knee. You roll over, and scrabble for your gun again, and lift yourself to a sitting position. The scene that greets you is comical in its absurdity- a nearly-top floor office, windows from floor to ceiling wide open, and chairs by the open window. Flandre, sitting on top of a mahogany desk, fiddling with a paperweight. Sakuya, kneeling down near you, frozen, with Unzan's shotgun pointed directly at the back of her head.
And to top it all off, there's that asshole James, with a knife in his chest. Good. At least someone's worse off than you. It's a good new look for him.
“Now put the knife away, darling. I don't want to have to hurt you.” Unzan's voice is quiet, but has the tenor of authority.
Sakuya slowly lowers the knife to the ground, but before she drops it, Unzan grunts. Flandre's chucked the paperweight as hard as he can at Unzan's face, and he just barely manages to turn it from a 'cave your face in fastball' to a 'glancing shot that may have only shattered one cheekbone'. Sakuya takes advantage of the staggered Unzan to whip around, and put the knife instead to his throat.
This is too much. This is too goddamn much. You flop back, and start laughing.
“What's so fucking funny, asshole?” Sakuya's voice is an angry hiss.
“Oh, ho, nothing, nothing,” you manage to choke out through gasps of laughter. “We were coming to rescue you, and now this. This is fucking rich.”
“Rescue me? You tried to kill me, asshole!”
“No shit, Sherlock. You tried to kill me first, remember?”
Sakuya can't think of anything to say to that, and Unzan gently edges the knife away from his throat, and levers himself free. “So are we going to kill each other, or are we going to, you know, leave?”
Flandre chuckles, and flops back over the desk, hefting another paperweight. Sakuya stomps over to where you're laying on the ground, and grabs your collar roughly, and hauls you up. And then slaps you, hard. This only makes you laugh harder, and makes her angrier.
You stand up, pushing her off of you, and walk over to the chairs by the open windows. “So, uh, what happened?”
Flandre takes the opportunity to explain. “So, you know that James douche? The one on the floor with the knife in his chest?”
“Yes, very dead, what about him?”
“So, he's bad at checking people for knives, especially the people who know how to hide them. Like Sakuya here. So she cuts herself free, fakes being helpless, and I distract him.”
“Distract him? How?” You're looking down the side of the building. That's a hell of a fall.
“Oh, you know, the usual.” Right. Dames.
“So, you didn't really need us to save you after all.” That's really not helping your self-esteem. This has just been one emasculation after another. Where does it stop? “What'd you learn from James?”
“Less than we'd hoped. Sakuya was... ungentle.”
Sakuya steps beside you. “Look, um...” Her voice is timid, and quiet. “I'm... uh, sorry. For, you know, trying to kill you, and all.” You look at her. She's looking straight at your feet and blushing. Unzan's leaning against the wall by the door, watching both of the girls for any fast moves. “So... yeah. I'm sorry.”
You don't say anything, for a time. “That's great. I'm not, though.”
Her face immediately whips up, and she glares at you. “What?!”
“I said I'm not sorry. You did try to kill me, twice now, you two-faced bitch.”
Her face starts to contort with rage. “Two-faced?! And to think... after all you did for me, with all I did for you, I thought you were a good guy! I thought you were different!” Her voice goes quiet again. “I thought I loved you.”
Whoa. Whoa now. Whoa, stop. “Love? Me? You've got something wrong in that head of yours.” You reach out and give her forehead a tap. “I don't love clients. Bad for business.”
Her eyes are full of tears. “Y-you asshole!” She gives you a shove, fueled purely by emotion, almost a reflex. An accident. This does not change the fact that you were standing in possibly the worst place, should push come to shove.
Your mind hates you for coming up with that pun.
There are only two things going through your mind as you lose your balance, and start to tip out of the window: She said she loved you. That's a first.
Second, as your feet slip from the carpet, to being above you, as gravity starts to do its work, that pun. It's still terrible.
Not wanting that to be your last thought, you look up to the window you're quickly falling from. Sakuya's on her knees, hand outstretched. She tried to grab you, and missed. Her mouth is open, yelling something. Presumably the name someone told her.
Okay I'm going to give this story some closure, because I know I'm never going to write anymore in it.
I had written past my ending, et cetera, et cetera.
The next update was going to be Yukari having saved the Investigator, followed by bitching about how he abandoned the case, with him saying "bitch you told me to get off the case!"
Which she would respond to saying that it's fucking reverse psychology, you twit.
The plan was for a happy ending with Sakuya, probably out of Gensokyo entirely.
Akyu and Keine's killer was Chen. I don't remember why Akyu was killed in the first place anymore. Ran was covering for Chen from Yukari, who was completely ignorant of the whole thing. And that would have been an unpleasant surprise for her, had the Investigator actually ever figured things out. He probably wouldn't. Aya goes on to do her things, and Kotohime starts a private detective service in Gensokyo. It does a rousing business, but every night, Kotohime cries herself to sleep.