Chapter Text
YOU, BARELY CONSCIOUS - First there is nothing. A nothingness that you don’t register. It is nice, this lack of sensation. Your mind blank for god knows how long.
NERVE [Trivial: success] - Then there is pain, which unfortunately brings with it the end of the lack of sensation you were just praising. It’s like your pain receptors went into hibernation and then awoke with a start to discover they were sleeping on the job. Then remembering suddenly what signals they were supposed to be receiving and sending, and in lieu of the work they’ve missed out on, has split your head in half.
HANDS ON - Your hand twitches against an unknown fabric.
ALERT - You blink awake, your vision a hazy blur.
PUZZLEBOX - Probably from whatever migraine or head injury that knocked you out this thoroughly.
ALERT - From what you can discern from your compromised vision you are in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed, with unfamiliar clothes on that smell of cigarettes.
NOTEKEEPER [Impossible: failure] - Now that you think about it, everything is unfamiliar.
OUTSIDER - This is nothing new. You have always been unfamiliar to the world. Why would the world be any different to you?
PUZZLEBOX - Wait, this raises a very good question.
NERVE - Why does everything hurt?
BLEEDING HEART - Why do you ache?
ALERT - Why can’t you see anything in your close proximity?
PUZZLEBOX - No, the question that I was going to ask was: who are you?
FANTASME [Medium: success] - Maybe a better question is what are you?
VOLTA DO MAR [Legendary: success] - No. None of those questions are important right now. What is important is that you properly assess your surroundings, find some pain killers, and get in control of whatever shitshow has put you out of it.
JOIE DE VIVRE - And maybe get a cigarette.
YOU, UNFORTUNATELY CONSCIOUS -
- But perhaps these questions will lead to something else than an existential crisis?
- [JOIE DE VIVRE: formidable] Check for cigarettes in your near vicinity.
-1 Visually impaired, for some reason.-1 Why do you even need that cigarette?
- Get back on track. [get out of bed]
VOLTA DO MAR - The places these questions will take you are not somewhere you should be right now.
POISE - Plus, having an existential crisis right after gaining consciousness is something a desperate, sad loser would do. Are you that kind of man?
YOU -
- So what if I am a desperate, sad loser?
- I don’t even know what kind of man I am.
- Fine, I’ll investigate the depths of my psyche later. [actually get out of bed]
NERVE - Your legs are unsteady and shaky from lack of use and you almost collapse back into the sheets as you hoist yourself up.
ALERT - This isn’t even mentioning the headache.
VOLTA DO MAR - You are in for a world of pain if you don’t find some drouamine.
YOU -
- Look for that drouamine.
- [JOIE DE VIVRE: Heroic] Look for some better medicine.
ROOM IN DISARRAY - You stumble around the room, luckily finding an almost empty packet of drouamine in one of the inner pockets of a bright orange bomber jacket which lays crumpled besides the front door.
HANDS ON - The nylon of the jacket is old and thin, yet the jacket looks like it’s been well loved and well tended to despite its age.
ALERT - It’s clearly not so well tended to anymore. It’s grimy and a large stain of some sort of water damage blooms in the front of it. It smells vaguely of salt water.
JOIE DE VIVRE - It also smells of those sweet, sweet cigarettes.
VOLTA DO MAR - Please just focus on anything else than cigarettes for a moment.
PUZZLEBOX [Easy: success] - The rest of the clothes you’re wearing do also smell of cigarettes though. It’s probably yours.
POISE - Could have been once. But in its current state it looks like nothing you would wear.
TORQUE DORK [Formidable: success] - It’s a pilot’s bomber jacket. Reversible, with a darker more subdued side and a bright neon orange one, which you’re currently looking at. The orange side meant to be highly visible so other pilots could spot you while on landing sites.
PUZZLEBOX [Medium: failure] - Wait, are you a pilot?
EYES - I can assure you that you aren’t. See those reflex squares that’s been sown on?
YOU - Yes?
NOTEKEEPER [Heroic: failure] - The halogen watermark and logo definitely does not belong to anything associated with airships or aeroplanes.
TORQUE DORK - Pilot or not, It’s actually really cool that you even possess one of these jackets. They aren’t made like this anymore.
POISE - Urgh, fine. You can still keep a semblance of dignity if we wear the non-dirty dark brown side out.
YOU -
- Neon orange, grimy or not, will always be my kind of thing. [put on jacket as it is]
- If the only way to keep looking cool while wearing this relic is to reverse it, then so be it. [reverse the jacket and put it on]
- I’m really not interested in this piece of garbage. [discard jacket]
ALERT - The jacket feels achingly familiar as you slip it on. Even if the dark, ruddy, brown side feels less so.
BLEEDING HEART - It’s like an old friend.
OL’ RELIABLE JACKET - You rifle around the pockets, which used to be inside it but have now been dragged out to face the world as the jacket was reversed. You find multiple ballpoint pens, crumpled receipts, a few coins of unknown currency, band-aids, disinfectant, various painkillers…
NERVE - Damn, is this a jacket or a first aid kit?
OL’ RELIABLE JACKET - …A scratched up pin, a few handkerchiefs, needle-and-thread, a lighter, a packet of cigarettes…
JOIE DE VIVRE - Fuck. Yes.
OL’ RELIABLE JACKET - …And lastly a pair of old cracked sunglasses with reflective orange lenses.
POISE - Put those on immediately. Somewhere, anywhere.
FANTASME - They go with the vibe you’re assembling.
COMMAND - Please don’t. They look silly.
YOU -
- [HANDS ON: challenging] Investigate the jacket further.
+1 Like an old friend - Light up a cigarette immediately. You definitely deserve it.
- Figure out the sunglasses situation.
- Just move on. [turn your attention elsewhere]
QUICK DRAW - Your hands deftly pick out an Astra from its nearly empty carton and with a flick of your wrist, in some well practised manoeuvre preserved by muscle memory, light it.
JOIE DE VIVRE - Feels good. Like you’re finally alive as you take a long drag, head clearing as you exhale smoke.
VOLTA DO MAR - That might very well just be the drouamine kicking in.
PUZZLEBOX - The nicotine is helping regardless.
YOU -
- [HANDS ON: challenging] Investigate the jacket further.
+1 Like an old friend Light up a cigarette immediately. You definitely deserve it.- Figure out the sunglasses situation.
- Just move on. [turn your attention elsewhere]
[Success: 14]
HANDS ON - You pat down the jacket. Searching for hidden pockets or objects you might have missed. You ultimately find nothing that you didn’t find before.
YOU - Really nothing at all? That doesn’t seem right.
EYES - Exactly. It is the absence of something that is the problem here.
HANDS ON - You run your hands over the jacket again. It has multiple pockets. Many smaller and two larger. One of the larger ones is completely empty except for a ballpoint pen.
EYES - This is the one.
PUZZLEBOX - That is strange actually. Every other pocket filled to the brim and yet you’d waste space by keeping one of the large ones empty? This doesn’t add up.
Task gained: Empty pocket?
NOTEKEEPER - Come back to this later. It seems important.
[HANDS ON: challenging] Investigate the jacket further.Light up a cigarette immediately. You definitely deserve it.- Figure out the sunglasses situation.
- Just move on. [turn your attention elsewhere]
POISE - Alright alright, clearly you are putting together a new kind of look with the reversed bomber jacket. Since we’ve established that the sunglasses are integral to your new style we come to the question of how to accessorise them properly.
VOLTA DO MAR - This is a silly and vain pursuit.
FANTASME - A person's own aesthetics is never a silly pursuit.
BLEEDING HEART - They might be a way for you to connect more with yourself.
OUTSIDER - Or hide from yourself further.
POISE - Regardless, you need to be the coolest motherfucker in whatever-city-you-are-in-right-now. The question is just which angle we approach this from.
ALERT - You might have an easier time deciding this if you find a mirror.
YOU -
- Mirror it is, I need to settle this.
- I don’t think caring about my appearance will get me anywhere. [opt out]
ROOM IN DISARRAY - Despite your blurred vision, you quickly find the bathroom, picking up as many articles of clothing and accessories you can find on the way. You open the bathroom door, dump your hastily made collection on the tiled floor, and turn to the mirror.
ALERT [Impossible: failure] - I regret to inform you that, like the rest of your surroundings, whatever greets you in the mirror is obscured by your vision.
POISE - Damned migraine.
PUZZLEBOX - It might not be a migraine. Or a head injury for that matter.
NERVE - You better not be implying what I think you’re implying.
ALERT - I can inform you that the objects that are further away from you are clearer. You seem to be extremely farsighted.
COMMAND - Don’t listen to them. It’s the head injury, clearly. Whatever knocked you out and has made you forget everything, which we will still not examine , has obviously temporarily impaired your vision. You are not a binoclard.
POISE - I would also like to give it a bit of time before jumping to the tragic conclusion that you’re a nerd.
VOLTA DO MAR - You are grossly overreacting. Many people wear glasses.
OUTSIDER [Challenging: success] - This all adds up to bino in my book. Especially the fact that you seem to be so insecure about it.
Thought gained: the Mystery of Sight.
YOU - Okay this has been a terrible proposition. Let’s get back on the fashion track instead.
BLEEDING HEART - Yes, distract or compartmentalise.
MIRROR, ON THE WALL - After stepping back a few paces, until you have your back pressed up against the opposite wall, the form in the mirror finally clears.
NOTEKEEPER - What you see is a disappointing sight.
YOU - “Hm…”
MIRROR, ON THE WALL - The worn shape of a man of middling age greets you. Furrows and wrinkles detailing a life that you don’t remember living with a few healing bruises present under the skin. A scruffy smattering of facial hair and yellowing teeth from one too many cigarettes, one of the offending Astras currently hanging loosely from your lips. The hair, once close cropped, has grown out and gotten to the stage where it truly needs a visit to the barber.
You look like a dishevelled man-thing that has been asleep for days. Bedhead and eyes still hazy from the memory of unconsciousness.
GENIUS LOCI [Medium: success] - Your appearance reminds you of one of many drifters and homeless people that you have seen walk the streets. The way that your composure is so frayed at the edges, your face so worn.
POISE - Okay, so you aren’t a young, pretty thing? So what? There’s still plenty to work with here.
FANTASME - Disheveledness can be artful even.
JOIE DE VIVRE - And very attractive to the right people.
POISE - Change your attitude and you can regain whatever composure you might have possessed.
YOU -
- Work with what you have.
- [FANTASME: legendary] Come up with something even better.
TORQUE DORK [Formidable: success] I know a “look” you could easily pull off.
YOU - And that is?
TORQUE DORK - Greasy, dishevelled, mechanic.
FANTASME - Yes! That works.
POISE - Hm, yes, the jacket, the old white tank top, the facial hair, the cigarettes, and of course the sunglasses.
OUTSIDER [Medium: success] - And perhaps also the constant disgruntled look that haunts your face.
MIRROR, ON THE WALL - You quickly assemble a presentable appearance. Wrestling your hair into submission, putting on some cargo pants, a pair of mechanic-esque fingerless gloves, and heavy boots. The sunglasses you plant on top of your head, resting there on your brow in case you need to flick them down for dramatic effect.
You’ve somehow managed to transform your somnambulatory disheveledness into something that looks intentional. Maybe even cool.
POISE - So goddamn cool.
OUTSIDER - A hostile sort of coolness. A fuck-the-system-coolness.
BLEEDING HEART - A closed off coolness. A lonely coolness.
VOLTA DO MAR - This wasn’t a complete waste of time, after all.
+1 Morale
Secret task complete: Get yourself together.
***
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Oh it’s you, finally up again I see.”
ALERT - You’ve barely left your room before you’re greeted by a young blonde woman, with the most angular, straight haircut you’ve ever seen.
FANTASME - Some might describe her as beautiful, she’s conventionally attractive at least.
JOIE DE VIVRE - Eh, not your thing.
ALERT - The thing that strikes you most about her is not her washed up beauty though, but the brand of cigarettes she’s smoking. They smell awful , all vaguely floral and too sweet scents that mix with her already overwhelming perfume.
JOIE DE VIVRE - This woman has terrible taste.
BLEEDING HEART - Compared to who? You? She’s just filling her lungs with her own brand tar, let’s not be too judgemental here.
YOU -
- “Sure am.”
- “Do I know you?”
- Just ignore her and move towards the stairs.
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Um,” she blinks for a moment, caught off guard, “no? We haven’t really talked, officer. Although everyone in the Whirling knows about you.”
PUZZLEBOX [Heroic: failure] - What does any of that even mean?
OUTSIDER - Officer?! You can’t be a fucking--
VOLTA DO MAR [Formidable: success] - Okay, let’s keep calm.
POISE - Yes, collect yourself before moving on to questions here.
YOU -
- [POISE: challenging] Don’t let your confusion show. Clear the air.
+1 Got it together - “Huh?!?”
[Success: 12]
POISE - Good. Your face remains impassive.
COMMAND [Easy: success] - You’ve retained whatever authority you had in this woman’s eyes.
BLEEDING HEART - Don’t lie here, tell her your situation, just make it seem like it’s a minor inconvenience rather than--
NOTEKEEPER - The fact you woke up with a splitting headache and no memory of anything? Yeah you should probably downplay that.
YOU - You clear your throat. “First things first, Miss…?”
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Klaasje.”
YOU - “You see, Miss Klaasje, I am having trouble at the current moment recollecting many basic things about my surroundings. I seem to have some sort of momentary lapse in memory and I would greatly appreciate it if you could answer a few questions.” Your voice is calm, monotone, as you deliver the truly baffling information to this poor woman.
BLEEDING HEART - It’s well practised. You fall into it like a hand in a glove.
OUTSIDER [Medium: success] - You had to learn it. So the world would respect you.
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - She stills for a moment, processing, awful cigarette hanging limply from her hand. You walk over to extinguish yours in the ashtray beside her.
QUICK DRAW [Trivial: failure] - Unfortunately due to your hazy vision you fumble at the edge of the ashtray as you get close to it, burning your hand.
NERVE [Challenging: failure] - Fuck!
YOU - “ Fuck, shit-- ” You hiss and drop the cigarette into the ashtray.
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - Your curses seem to bring her back to the situation at hand as she says: “S-sure, of course, officer. I don’t mind a question or two.”
POISE - Okay, don’t do something like that pathetic display again. There’s only so much I can do. Be normal, ask normal questions.
EYES - You should get as much information out of her while she’s still dumbfounded. You might not have this opportunity again.
YOU -
- “You called me an officer? Could you explain that?”
- “Whirling? Whirling what?”
- “How come everyone knows of me?”
- “Who am I? Tell me please, I can't keep ignoring this question!”
- “Where, when, what, and why are we??”
- Nope, I hate these questions. I can’t embarrass myself in front of this lady anymore. [Leave]
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Well you’re a cop aren’t you?” She takes a drag of her cigarette, pointedly ignoring your previous fumble. “Unless you’ve been fooling us all this entire time.”
OUTSIDER - For all that is good and innocent. WHY ARE YOU A COP?!?
EYES [Medium: success] - You’ve asked yourself that question before. You yourself could come up with multiple reasons and excuses, the other officers around you could too. You had a simple answer once, you might still have that answer within you. There's always a reason to hold onto power, reasonable or not.
OUTSIDER - I hate this. You hate this.
YOU -
- “You must be mistaken. I am in no way a pig.”
- “Thank you for providing this valuable piece of information, do you happen to know my rank?”
- “I… I don’t know how to feel about that.”
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Heh, I can’t imagine taking that kind of career choice either.” She waits for a moment gauging your reaction. “Not that you had much of a chance to do any police work.”
YOU - “How so?”
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Well the first day you were here you seemed really out of it. Muttering to yourself and constantly pulling at your hair. You spent the majority of the time chain smoking on the balcony and looking over notes. This might be the first time I’ve seen you calm, officer.” She smiles a worn, but sympathetic, smile.
POISE - That does not seem like you.
NOTEKEEPER [Legendary: failure] - As far as we know, that is you.
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “And then y’know… You couldn’t really do much more than that.”
YOU -
“You called me an officer? Could you explain that?”- “Whirling? Whirling what?”
- “How come everyone knows of me?”
- “Who am I? Tell me please, I can't keep ignoring this question!”
- “Where, when, what, and why are we??”
- Nope, I hate these questions. I can’t embarrass myself in front of this lady anymore. [Leave]
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Well officer, there are no other cops in Martinaise.”
YOU - “Martinaise?”
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Yes that’s where we are, officer.” A smile tugs at her lips, “It’s not much but I feel quite at home here.”
OUTSIDER - You don’t know if you do.
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Well anyways, when an officer of the RCM shows up people tend to pay attention. Then when that officer immediately gets into some sort of accident and is unconscious for two days people pay even more attention.”
NOTEKEEPER - Well…
NERVE - You know what that explains pretty much everything about your frail body’s current state.
YOU -
- “I was in an accident??”
- “I’ve been unconscious for two days?!”
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “Yes…” she says it like it saddens her deeply, you can’t tell if it really does. “I really don’t know much about it, sorry. One of the people who works at the Whirling has been taking care of you. Maybe you should ask her?”
New task gained: Comatose on the Job?
YOU - “I…”
BLEEDING HEART - She looks genuinely worried about you. A deep furrow in between her pencilled brows.
VOLTA DO MAR - Move on. Don’t dwell on this now.
YOU -
- “
You called me an officer? Could you explain that?” - “Whirling? Whirling what?”
“How come everyone knows of me?”- “Who am I? Tell me please, I can't keep ignoring this question!”
- “Where, when, what, and why are we??”
- Nope, I hate these questions. I can’t embarrass myself in front of this lady anymore. [Leave]
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “The Whirling-In-Rags, it’s the hostel we’re at right now.” She thankfully replies, letting the weight of the previous topic slide.
PUZZLEBOX [Easy: failure] - So this isn’t your home…
ALERT - It would be pretty obvious, y’know, if you could see anything within a 3 metre distance.
GENIUS LOCI [Challenging: success] - You have had many homes and yet not a single one has ever felt like home. You came to consider the whole city your home, mostly because it was too sad to admit you’ve never felt truly home anywhere.
TORQUE DORK - Pft, please , you’ll always be at home in an MC.
YOU -
“You called me an officer? Could you explain that?”“Whirling? Whirling what?”“How come everyone knows of me?”- “Who am I? Tell me please, I can't keep ignoring this question!”
- “Where, when, what, and why are we??”
- Nope, I hate these questions. I can’t embarrass myself in front of this lady anymore. [Leave]
COMMAND - Good call, we cannot let this woman see more of your weaknesses.
YOU - “Thank you for your answers Miss Klaasje. I think I’ll be going now.”
BLEEDING HEART [Formidable: success] - Despite your best efforts Klaasje can still clearly tell how out of it you are.
KLAASJE, FELLOW SMOKER - “I’m glad I could be of some service, officer.” She stubs her cigarette in the ashtray where your failed attempt at being cool has long since gone out.
POISE - God, don’t remind me.
PUZZLEBOX - This conversation raised far more questions than it answered.
VOLTA DO MAR - Move on, you have other matters to attend to and other questions to answer.
ALERT [Medium: success] - Like, for example, what the source of the yelling downstairs is about.
WHIRLING-IN-RAGS - You move down the stairs and are greeted with the sight of an old cafeteria. A few patrons sit or sleep idly by. The establishment clearly has no particular early morning crowd.
FANTASME [Easy: success] - A nice mosaic on the tiled floor catches your eye.
ALERT [Easy: success] - A not-so-nice argument between two men at the bar “catches” your ear.
WHIRLING-IN-RAGS - You look over at the two of them, they are the loudest thing in the room after all, keeping your distance so you can preserve your clear view and not get caught in the crossfire.
POISE - The younger of the two, dark hair and weak scruffy chin, is standing behind the bar. He is trying to keep his voice level but is clearly seething under the guise of sarcasm and professionalism. The other man is much louder. In multiple ways. He honestly looks a little ridiculous in his heeled snakeskin shoes, flare cut disco pants, and black overcoat with RCM written on the back.
EYES [Formidable: success] - That man is a cop. Just look at the entitlement and authority he has.
PUZZLEBOX - Maybe he knows you.
OUTSIDER - We are under no circumstance associating with that guy.
ALERT - Their argument, which seemed serious at first, has devolved into discussing the taxidermied bird on the wall.
NOTEKEEPER [Medium: success] - It’s a skua.
HARRY DU BOIS - “You know what?! FUCK that bird!” The disco cop flips the skua ‘the bird.’
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “You will not touch the bird or anything else in this establishment! Actually I think you should leave this establishment right now.”
HARRY DU BOIS - “I will not leave until you tell me what happened to the guy from the 57th!”
BLEEDING HEART [Easy: success] - This argument has clearly run in circles for a while.
JOIE DE VIVRE - Light another cigarette and lean back. This is pretty entertaining.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “I can’t because I don’t know. Sylvie knows, not me! So please just leave, sir. You’re,” he flounders for a moment trying to remember a term, “ disturbing the peace. Yes! Can’t you see all this peace being disturbed--” He gestures around the room but as soon as he lays eyes on you it seems like his brain short-circuits. His mouth agape, completely stunned.
JOIE DE VIVRE - Dammit, you were just about to light that cigarette.
BLEEDING HEART - You feel suddenly intensely uncomfortable, like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.
HARRY DU BOIS - The disco cop looks between you two frantically, just as lost as you.
YOU -
- Say nothing, keep staring.
- “Hello?”
- [POISE: Legendary] Lean up against the wall, look unbothered by whatever is happening.
[Failure: 11]
POISE [Legendary: failure]- You lean up against the wall but, having forgotten that you were mid lighting a cigarette, your lighter slips out of your pocket and falls to the floor.
ALERT - The sound of the metal container clattering to the floor is deafening.
POISE - You awkwardly pick it up.
BLEEDING HEART - You’ve somehow made the mood more stifling.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “H-how are you awake…?” The man behind the bar mutters.
HARRY DU BOIS - “Wait is that?” His eyes light up, having processed information you haven’t. The younger man nods.
ALERT - They’re both silent again, still trying to figure out what to say next.
COMMAND - Okay get this under control, this conversation is yours to drive forward.
TORQUE DORK - Grip those leavers for your life.
YOU -
- [COMMAND: Challenging] take those metaphorical leavers.
+1 You have their full attention - Give up, you've ruined it.
[Success: 16]
YOU - “I don’t think I get what you two are referring to. Would you two gentlemen care to inform me what I’m missing here?”
EYES - Good, steady, professional tone.
COMMAND - Natural, passive authority.
NOTEKEEPER - Curious, where did you learn this way of addressing people? You used it on Klaasje as well.
BLEEDING HEART - Like a sticky second skin, this isn’t how you want to interact with people around you. I say we drop it as soon as possible.
EYES - Don’t.
Thought gained: Cold hearted professional
ALERT - Both men interrupt each other with various words that you can’t quite make out over their race to sound more surprised.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “You’re supposed to be in a coma--”
HARRY DU BOIS - “Holy shit did we summon you by saying your name too many times--”
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “--I checked on you an hour ago--”
HARRY DU BOIS - “--Wait no, we never said your name. Do I even know your name--”
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “--Is this a miracle?? Am I dreaming--”
HARRY DU BOIS - “--Nice to meet you, I’m Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Harry Du Bois--”
VOLTA DO MAR - Dolores Dei, just shut them up.
COMMAND - You clear your throat. They fall silent again.
YOU - “Might I add, before you two continue whatever you were saying, that I’m currently having a bit of trouble remembering details of my immediate situation. I do not recognise either of you and it frankly surprises me that you recognise me.”
BLEEDING HEART - You are obliterating them. They’re speechless again.
COMMAND - A pretty good trick honestly. This blasé way of informing people you’ve got memory loss.
HARRY DU BOIS - The disco cop, who you think just introduced himself, quickly decides just to roll with it. “Well thank the Innocences that we haven’t met before, officer, or this would be even more awkward than it already is.” He gives you a goofy, slightly apologetic, grin under his bushy moustache while reaching out for a handshake. “Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Harry Du Bois from precinct 41, in case you didn’t hear before.”
BLEEDING HEART - Despite still being visibly intimidated by you his recovery into a sort of camaraderie is a little charming.
FANTASME - Even with your terrible vision up close you can make out a very obnoxious, quirky tie in the vague haze that is the Lieutenant. It’s bad, yet endearing.
OUTSIDER [Medium: success] - Remember what I said; this man is a white, loud, entitled, cop. He is not quirky or charming. Don’t fraternise and don’t shake his hand.
EYES [Medium: success] - You may not know each other but you are colleagues. Shake the Lieutenant’s hand.
YOU -
- Shake his hand.
- Don’t shake his hand.
- Look at the hand, acknowledge it but remain unmoved.
HARRY DU BOIS - “Okay…” he retracts the hand, disappointed. “Well good to meet you officer…?” He waits for a name to come.
NOTEKEEPER [Impossible: failure] - You even forgot your name??
PUZZLEBOX - Of course you did, it’s not like it was more important than anything else you’ve forgotten.
YOU - “Sorry…” you dwell on a moment on how to refer to this guy.
POISE - Professional but disrespectful seems to be what you’re going for right?
YOU - “Sorry, Yefreitor, need I remind you that I’m having an episode of amnesia? I don’t know my name. I didn’t even know I was a cop until 10 minutes ago.”
BLEEDING HEART - Harsh and cold. Maybe you should be nicer to him?
OUTSIDER - Never.
HARRY DU BOIS - “Ah shit yeah. Heh, almost forgot that,” he pulls some sort of expression at his own terrible, and rather insensitive joke.
When it clearly proves ineffective he changes topics: “Well Garte here was just telling me about how an officer from the 57th, that’s you by the way, had been comatose for two days in this hostel without anyone informing the RCM, that’s us; the cops, about their downed man. And not only that but also how nobody had reached out to any medical professionals in that time. Then there’s this now, bartender Garte, the officer in question has lost his fucking memory after not receiving adequate care for his injuries. What do you say to that hm?!” He leans over the counter of the bar in a mocking way as he lists the hostel's inadequacies.
EYES [Medium: success] - It’s like he’s suddenly gained many good arguments now that a fellow officer is there backing him up.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “Listen,” he looks a little more nervous with your presence there, “Firstly; I’m not a bartender, I’m a cafeteria manager. Secondly; I was not there at any point during those days. That was Sylvie. I just came in today because Sylvie suddenly needed to take some time off. I can give you her number and she can explain the details, if you can find a phone that is.” The Lieutenant nods enthusiastically and pulls out a ledger as Garte tells him the number.
NOTEKEEPER - You instinctively feel obligated to write down some notes as well.
HANDS ON - Your hands, unlocking some old muscle memory, reaches directly for the big empty pocket in your jacket. It ultimately comes up empty.
PUZZLEBOX [Formidable: success] - Oh hell yes! That makes complete sense! The amount of ballpoint pens and the size of the pocket perfectly matches with some sort of notebook!
Task complete: Empty pocket?
VOLTA DO MAR - Calm down smart guy, now we need to find that notebook.
PUZZLEBOX - Why? Isn’t the beauty of deductive reasoning enough?
EYES - Finding that notebook might be pertinent for your job.
NOTEKEEPER - Or, y’know, remembering who you are.
Task gained: Notebook of the past.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - While you’ve been pondering your large, empty pocket your fellow officer has been needling Garte some more. The cafeteria manager is clearly done with this conversation. “I’ve given you all I can, sir.”
HARRY DU BOIS - “Fine, let’s go then, officer.” He begins to turn away.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “One more thing before you leave though,” he turns to you, the already familiar look of annoyance immune to your authority, “ you have a bill to pay.”
YOU - “Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “Yes I know you’ve been unconscious for two days but you still have a bill of about 80 reál.”
NERVE - What?!
BLEEDING HEART - Look at this man! Not the least embarrassed about asking this of you!
EYES - Shameful, you are an injured officer of the law.
GENIUS LOCI [Easy: success] - There are always bills to pay in a city like this.
YOU - “You’re asking me to pay you for what exactly?” You can feel the mask of professionalism you were previously wearing slipping.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “Staying at the Whirling-In-Rags for 3 nights and a bit of extra expenses for overtime and food.”
YOU - “Have you considered that I didn’t willingly stay here for two of those nights?!” Your eye twitches.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “Just pay me back the money you owe by the end of today, officer,” he says with a sigh. Like you’re the one being difficult.
NERVE - This filthy little opportunist…
COMMAND - If looks could kill…
HARRY DU BOIS - You can feel your composure fraying at its edges, hands shaking. You’re definitely about to do something as Yefreitor gently, but forcefully, guides you away from Garte. “We’ll figure this out, officer. No need to murder the guy.”
YOU -
- Let yourself be guided away.
- [VOLTA DO MAR: Heroic] Forget this slight.
-1 The audacity of this man - [NERVE: Legendary] Do something violent, and illegal.
-2 Yefreitor is keeping you away from him
[Failure: 9]
NERVE [Legendary: failure] - You audibly grind your teeth, taking in a sharp breath. Yefreitor looks down at you for a split second before you wrest yourself out of his grasp.
TORQUE DORK - You’re like a bullet train, headed straight towards violence.
COMMAND [Trivial: success] - For a split second, you see the fear in Garte’s eyes as you leap towards him.
NERVE - Unfortunately, something, or rather someone, catches you midair and you’re pulled away before you can even lay a finger on the piss stain of a cafeteria manager.
YOU - Fuck.
HARRY DU BOIS - “Okay, chill, Officer. I said you didn’t need to kill him,” he says as he in one fell swoop throws you over his shoulder and begins walking towards the exit. Clearly having sensed your violent intent.
JOIE DE VIVRE [Easy: success] - Oh, baby.
NERVE - No time for that kind of bullshit, this man is preventing you from causing Garte grievous bodily harm.
YOU - “LET ME DOWN! THAT PIECE OF SHIT HAS NO RIGHT TO ASK ME FOR MONEY! I’VE BEEN A IN A FUCKING COMA!! I’M NOT EVEN SURE WHAT MONEY IS! LET ME AT HIM, YEFREITOR!” You struggle and snarl.
EYES - Great, you’ve ruined everything. Lieutenant Du Bois and no other citizen will ever respect you again.
POISE - So much for calm, diplomatic professionalism.
NERVE - Fuck that, screaming feels good.
OUTSIDER - No matter how diplomatic your tone was you would never be fully respected by the public.
HARRY DU BOIS - “Listen, I know rent and subsequently capitalism is infuriating but just calm down!” He keeps you steady even as you struggle to escape. Surprisingly strong arms keeping you in place as you shout obscenities at the cowering Garte.
YOU -
- Accept that you’ve been confined to arm jail.
- Never calm down. Die angry.
- [COMMAND: Godly] Convince him to let you go.
+1 You are pretty intimidating
-2 …but you did just try to assault a citizen
NERVE - You kick, seethe, and make a further scene.
BLEEDING HEART - The clientele is going to have an interesting story to tell about what happened down at the Whirling this morning.
VOLTA DO MAR - Pathetic. They must think you’re pathetic.
YOU - “I SWEAR TO GOD GARTE!!” You yell one last time as you’re transported out of the cafeteria. The bell jingles sadly as the door closes behind you and Yefreitor. You’re greeted with the sudden windy chill of an early coastal spring.
NERVE - You shudder, partially from rage and partially from the cold.
ALERT [Easy: success] - Everything suddenly becomes very quiet besides your heavy angry breaths. Martinaise is calm. It’s sobering.
HARRY DU BOIS - “You alright? Ready to calm down?” He pats you back, still effortlessly carrying you around.
POISE - Take a deep breath. You can salvage this.
BLEEDING HEART [Medium: success] - Harry is actually concerned for you, thinking you might be out of it in more than one way. He radiates an instinctive care.
OUTSIDER - Like the dog he is.
YOU - “No, but I’ll try. I’m sorry about that,” you clear your throat which feels raw from screaming.
VOLTA DO MAR - Everything you just did back there was embarrassing.
BLEEDING HEART - Immediate regret hits you hard.
HARRY DU BOIS - He walks over to an MC parked a few paces away and sets you down gently.
TORQUE DORK [Formidable: success] - Coupris 40. KR18GU engine. Simple, sturdy, with no visible modification.
HARRY DU BOIS - “So…” he tries to clear the air, move on.
EYES [Medium: success] - As a cop, he doesn’t really know what to think about you. Although Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Harrier Du Bois has seen worse.
BLEEDING HEART [Challenging: success] - Been worse.
HARRY DU BOIS - “You said you weren't even sure what money was?” He cracks a tentative smile.
YOU -
- “I have a vague idea but the concept confuses me.”
- “Please, I’m not that helpless.” (Lie)
- “Embarrassing, I know, let’s just move on.”
HARRY DU BOIS - “Oh, nonono! I didn’t mean to judge! I was just curious.”
BLEEDING HEART [Trivial: success] - And concerned.
HARRY DU BOIS - “But yes, let’s get back on track. I assume since you, um,” he makes a gesture at his head, “can’t remember much that you don’t really know why you’re here.”
YOU - “No… I don’t. Also one quick question: why don’t we know each other?”
HARRY DU BOIS - “Well, we’re from different precincts. I’m from the 41st and you’re from the 57th, as far as I know anyways. Martinaise isn’t really any precinct in Revachol’s responsibility, so this case is split between our two precincts.”
GENIUS LOCI - Revachol , the name stirs something within you.
HARRY DU BOIS - “There’s some… precinct politics going on as well, but don’t worry about that. That’s partially also why I’m three days late, which I’m really sorry about by the way! No one had any idea you were in a coma or whatever it actually was. But from now on I promise I’ll be here to rely on, partner!” He makes a big sweeping gesture at the last statement a dumb grin on his lips.
EYES [Impossible: failure] - Partner…
BLEEDING HEART - Something within you feels wrong.
YOU - “Thank you, Yefreitor,” you say softly. His grin falters, picking up on your tone.
ALERT - There’s a moment of quiet. It feels too long.
YOU - “So… what is this case that we’re supposed to be working on?”
HARRY DU BOIS - “Well, it looks like a lynching. We’re dealing with a rotting corpse which has been dangling from a tree for a week. Do you think you can handle that?”
VOLTA DO MAR - Of course you can. Besides, it can’t get any weirder than this morning already has been.
JOIE DE VIVRE - Though it’d be a lot easier to bear with another cigarette.
YOU - “Yes,” you say, as your hand reaches for your pack of Astras.