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[NJW2000]

The folder burnt out quicker than a cheap cigarette. So much for the case files. Looks like I'd have to do it the old fashioned way.

I already mentioned my colleagues - Heckler and Koch. They're fun at parties. Just not the kind of parties with balloons and a clown.

Heckler's a .44 revolver chambered with magnum rounds. Koch is a machine pistol. He's against regulations. So am I.

Someone else was with us in the basement. A brother officer. And was it my imagination, or did Femme Fatale have a snubnosed Remington pressed into the small of his back?

Guess this party did have a clown.

I was one wrong move away from starting a gunfight in a police records building. They give you the chair for that. But I wasn't going to let another innocent man die. Not after Hendricks. Goddamn you, Hendricks.

"Listen here, kid. This whole thing is a stinking mess and I've got solid proof you're mixed up in it six ways from Sunday. You'd better start talking, or it's the end of the line for both of us."



Draw both guns and demand explanations.

[Egan_BW]

Put on Soothing Music.

“Confess!  It was you!  Wasn’t it?”

Stalking over to the wall of the Basement, you flip a big switch, activating the music players. The room begins to fill with an intolerably comforting racket.
[5]
A_Curious_Cat: "It was you! Wasn't it?"
ZBridges' Corpse: "Uhh, no? Obviously not?"

Well. Guess you can't argue with that.

TRUTH OBTAINED: It Wasn't ZBridges

Hmm…seems like I must scan the scene to look for clues! Perhaps footprints! Hopefully ones that don’t look exactly like the boots I wore! Aswell as fingerprints that hopefully don’t match mine! I definitely didn’t steal this diamond in a drunken stupor and perhaps kill this guy in my inebriation no I did not!

Time is short, it's about time to wrap up this particular aspect of the case. And preferably exonerate yourself in the process.
[4]
Upon some closer examination, the tile floor of the Diamond Chamber is marred with some faint muddy footprints. A clue! You follow the trail posthaste, which leads into the Chamber, right up to the Diamond's enclosure, and then back to the entrance. Here, the trail ends. After some poking, you discover a hidden pair of glossy, black dress shoes hidden in a wall panel. Muddy shoes.
MAID: "Oh! Those belong to the BUTLER!"

CLUE OBTAINED: Muddy footprint trail.
CLUE OBTAINED: BUTLER's shoes.

The spectral realm may yet yield results. If the killer has struck before, their other victims may still remain here, unascended. Find them and ask them for information.

Even if the details of the dead don't find the killer, they may help find a killer.

There may be other dead. But, how can you be certain that they're connected to THE CASE?
[5]
GHOST BUTLER: "Is that guy finally gone? By the LORD, he was annoying."
Spectral ZBridges: "Hmm? What do you know about him?"
GHOST BUTLER: "Well, he bloody MURDERED me, for one. I was just minding by own business, preparing to leave for VACATION, when he drugged be and tied me to a massive drilling machine, covered in blasphemous inscriptions. Said it was some kind of SACRIFICE, to ACHIEVE TRANSCENDANCE."

CLUE OBTAINED: GHOST BUTLER's testimony.

Excellent!  I've cracked the case, perfect!  I'm not going home, though--no, this is cause for CELEBRATION!  Go find someone to celebrate with, and regale them with tales of my derring-do.  Preferably while terribly intoxicated, perhaps at a bar.

You know just the place!
[1]
It's at around that place where your memory abruptly cuts off. You are in a dark alleyway, vision swimming. There's a-
HOODLUM: "Gimmie your wallet! And your gun!"
The DELINQUINT waves a short knife in your face.
syvarris: "But... Wait, if I have a gun, and you only have a knife, then-"
Before you can finish the thought, the THUG grabs a PLANK OF WOOD and BONKS YOU OVER THE HEAD with it.

Sometime later still, you awaken in a dark alleyway. You seem to be missing your wallet and gun, though it's difficult to recall why...

Find the backup of the file on Femme Fatale while Otto does the asking.

Good thing you carry backups just for situations like this! This exact scenario comes up surprisingly often. Distressingly often.
[1]
FEMME FATALE: "Going somewhere, darling?"
You feel, rather than hear, the high-caliber slug tear through your stomach as you approach the shelf of BACKUP FILES. Much as you'd like to continue, your legs decide to lock you in place right there. You cough. Blood on your jacket.

WOUND OBTAINED: Medical assistance recommended.

The folder burnt out quicker than a cheap cigarette. So much for the case files. Looks like I'd have to do it the old fashioned way.

I already mentioned my colleagues - Heckler and Koch. They're fun at parties. Just not the kind of parties with balloons and a clown.

Heckler's a .44 revolver chambered with magnum rounds. Koch is a machine pistol. He's against regulations. So am I.

Someone else was with us in the basement. A brother officer. And was it my imagination, or did Femme Fatale have a snubnosed Remington pressed into the small of his back?

Guess this party did have a clown.

I was one wrong move away from starting a gunfight in a police records building. They give you the chair for that. But I wasn't going to let another innocent man die. Not after Hendricks. Goddamn you, Hendricks.

"Listen here, kid. This whole thing is a stinking mess and I've got solid proof you're mixed up in it six ways from Sunday. You'd better start talking, or it's the end of the line for both of us."



Draw both guns and demand explanations.

FEMME FATALE seems unmoved by your display of steel. The rookie fails to read the room and wanders off, and takes a bullet for it. The thunder of the magnum round echos round the room. Rookie's organs must be hamburger by now. She didn't even look at him; FEMME FATALE's eyes are locked with yours, icy cold. Dammit!- You tighten your grips and-
[1]
Not again. Not again. Never again. Something in your brain snaps, and you... freeze. You... you can't do this.

FEMME FATALE: "...A part of me had hoped that you were made of stronger stuff, Otto. That maybe somebody would finally end me. But you're the same as all the rest."
She turns around calmly and walks to the door, to the stairs out of this hellish basement. No, you can't let her leave-!
FEMME FATALE: "Weak."

With that, the witch is gone, and your bones unlock themselves. Sure, you could rush after the criminal, but-
You rush to the rookie's side. It's not as bad as you'd feared, he'll make it, if you just drag him to the hospital.
Do you regret this outcome?

2 turns remain.

[Megam0nkey]

Investigate the area around for clues-any signs the butler mightve taken off...any extra bodies perhaps. Pocket the daimond too-Itl definetly be important later im totally not stealing it so I can sell it on the black market dont look into it.

[ZBridges]

Could this case revolve around the machinations of some dark, mystical cabal? Track down this drilling machine, with the ghost butler's help, and search it and the area around it for ties to the deceased or to the case in general.

[A_Curious_Cat]

“…”

Reject truth.  Give ZBridge’s Corpse a massage.

“I already know it was you.  Why don’t you just admit it?”

[MCreeper]

Drag myself\be dragged to hospital.

[NJW2000]

Do you regret this outcome

G-d damnit. I couldn't do it. Not again. Not another life.

I'd seen too much senseless blood spilled on the streets. The victim. The Camelli gang. My partner Hendricks. Some days it felt like I was drowning in it.

I didn't know how I was going to do it. But I knew one thing, then and there. I was going to bring Femme Fatale to justice. And I'd bring her in alive.

There was one thing I had to do first. The rookie's life was hanging by a thread, and from the look on his face, it was fraying fast. Time to move.

I'd do this one by the book.

It's what Hendricks would have wanted.

Drag the rookie to hospital.

[syvarris]

...Fuck!  I must have been out drinking again, and slept through the night in this alley!  I'm late for work!

Rush to the police station.  I'll be able to come up with an excuse for why I'm late.  I always do.