RE: Incident [TEXT]
05-18-2013, 10:12 PM
You grin at her.
“You're not such a terrible liar. Too bad that I know for a fact that there's somebody else in here. And it would be very strange indeed if you were unaware of their existence.”
“Then tell me. Please. I'm just dying to know.”
“The hostage. Six's hostage. Ring any bells?”
There is a pause. Then she exhales slowly, and that quiet hissing is the only noise for a moment.
“How do you know about that?” Her words are quiet, but carefully spoken.
“I've been investigating Number 6 for a little while now. A little bit of quick thinking and a great deal of luck had me end up in here. What I've found has been most... enlightening.” You smile wolfishly, the enjoyment not entirely faked as you watch her mind race.
Before she can reply you're talking again, at the languid of pace of someone who holds all the cards.
“Being under the command of the Red Queen as you are, and considering the hostage's... connection to her, I think you might find some of it quite interesting.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to be able to put this gun away and not regret it. I want to have a civilised discussion. But most importantly, I want to walk out of this building without running into more trouble from the Red Queen's finest. All I need is a little cooperation from yourselves, and I might be able to give you the information that will make it worth your while. How about it?”
She runs her tongue over lips. “I think that sounds possible. But I want to ask you a few more questions. Just to check a few things.”
You shrug.
“You say you're an investigator?”
“That's correct. I'm a licensed PI. People come to me for help,” you reply, still casual, still confident.
“What's your line on Number 6?”
“He's been killing people. Causing social unrest. Y'know. Some people aren't happy with the progress the police and the mercenaries have made on stopping him, so they turned to me.”
“And what do you intend to do?”
“Get myself into places I shouldn't be and look at things people don't want me to see. Standard private eye business. I'm only interested in information, if that's what you're asking. I'm not intending to catch the man single-handedly.”
“How did you get inside the Old Bank?” Her voice suddenly sharpens.
You freeze, but just for a moment. Your outward façade doesn't even waver.
“Every investigator worth their salt has their contacts and informants. I'm not going to tell you exactly who, or exactly how, but I managed it.”
“Obviously.” She smiles humourlessly and stares at you for a few seconds, as if searching for some kind of tell. You keep your smile and gun in place.
“Okay. I'll bite. I'll let you talk. Permission to lower my arms? They're getting quite tired.”
You nod, and ease your gun back into its holster. The talker and the kid drop their hands, and some of the tension seeps out of the atmosphere. A good start.
“Talk.” She chooses to cross her arms now she has the option.
“Not yet. You've made your checks, now let me make mine. I want to know how you're going to get me out of here.”
She sighs. “Okay then. Here's how it works. As you've already noticed, this coat and this scarf are how we recognise each other tonight. I can give you one of each. With your hat and the scarf covering your face, nobody will pay you too much attention. Not to mention the bank floor is crawling with sparkers in the same get up. There's a group of guards at each of the entrances, inside and out, but only the one at the main entrance has the key. Ask them to let you out. You'll have to come up with some kind of reason, but if you've got the uniform they won't really care. How do you like that?”
You like it a lot better than the window option.
“Sure. There's a big office, back there.” You gesture vaguely behind yourself. “Can't miss it. You'll probably want to draw your own conclusions, but somebody was tied to a chair in there. Very recently. There's dust everywhere but it's quite clearly been disturbed not long ago. Somebody smoke a cigarette, stubbed it out on the desk. Somebody who was sitting in the self same chair somebody was tied to. It would be interesting if the smoker and the prisoner were the same person. Very interesting.”
“How do you know that's anything to do with Number 6?”
“Who else? Unless there's more than one person being held against their will in this building tonight.”
“Where did they go?”
“Like I said, you'll probably want to draw your own conclusions. But I'd say they went in that direction.” You jerk a thumb at the air behind you. “Is that satisfactory?”
“It's certainly something.” She sighs again, rubbing the back of her neck, and turns to look at the kid. He hasn't said a word in your presence. “Give the gumshoe your coat and scarf, Marco.”
“Why me?”
“You're a warder. You'll cope better with friendly fire than I will. Not that we'll get any while I'm with you.”
Warder, huh? It's a good thing you didn't end up fighting them. Those with lightning powers are dangerous on their own, but they get downright deadly when they have warders to trap their victims in place. That's the thing about walls: they can keep things out, or they can keep things in. Neither are something you want to deal with in a fight.
You accept the clothing from the glowering teenager with an amiable grin, and don't drop it until the pair are out of sight. Then you jump down from the windowsill and return the smoke bomb and the matches to their respective places.
You pull on the coat over your current, notably lighter, one, and immediately regret it. You were absolutely correct in thinking that it was far too warm for this sort of thing. The addition of the scarf around your lower face has the expected result of making the situation even more intolerable.
This had better damn well work.
“You're not such a terrible liar. Too bad that I know for a fact that there's somebody else in here. And it would be very strange indeed if you were unaware of their existence.”
“Then tell me. Please. I'm just dying to know.”
“The hostage. Six's hostage. Ring any bells?”
There is a pause. Then she exhales slowly, and that quiet hissing is the only noise for a moment.
“How do you know about that?” Her words are quiet, but carefully spoken.
“I've been investigating Number 6 for a little while now. A little bit of quick thinking and a great deal of luck had me end up in here. What I've found has been most... enlightening.” You smile wolfishly, the enjoyment not entirely faked as you watch her mind race.
Before she can reply you're talking again, at the languid of pace of someone who holds all the cards.
“Being under the command of the Red Queen as you are, and considering the hostage's... connection to her, I think you might find some of it quite interesting.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to be able to put this gun away and not regret it. I want to have a civilised discussion. But most importantly, I want to walk out of this building without running into more trouble from the Red Queen's finest. All I need is a little cooperation from yourselves, and I might be able to give you the information that will make it worth your while. How about it?”
She runs her tongue over lips. “I think that sounds possible. But I want to ask you a few more questions. Just to check a few things.”
You shrug.
“You say you're an investigator?”
“That's correct. I'm a licensed PI. People come to me for help,” you reply, still casual, still confident.
“What's your line on Number 6?”
“He's been killing people. Causing social unrest. Y'know. Some people aren't happy with the progress the police and the mercenaries have made on stopping him, so they turned to me.”
“And what do you intend to do?”
“Get myself into places I shouldn't be and look at things people don't want me to see. Standard private eye business. I'm only interested in information, if that's what you're asking. I'm not intending to catch the man single-handedly.”
“How did you get inside the Old Bank?” Her voice suddenly sharpens.
You freeze, but just for a moment. Your outward façade doesn't even waver.
“Every investigator worth their salt has their contacts and informants. I'm not going to tell you exactly who, or exactly how, but I managed it.”
“Obviously.” She smiles humourlessly and stares at you for a few seconds, as if searching for some kind of tell. You keep your smile and gun in place.
“Okay. I'll bite. I'll let you talk. Permission to lower my arms? They're getting quite tired.”
You nod, and ease your gun back into its holster. The talker and the kid drop their hands, and some of the tension seeps out of the atmosphere. A good start.
“Talk.” She chooses to cross her arms now she has the option.
“Not yet. You've made your checks, now let me make mine. I want to know how you're going to get me out of here.”
She sighs. “Okay then. Here's how it works. As you've already noticed, this coat and this scarf are how we recognise each other tonight. I can give you one of each. With your hat and the scarf covering your face, nobody will pay you too much attention. Not to mention the bank floor is crawling with sparkers in the same get up. There's a group of guards at each of the entrances, inside and out, but only the one at the main entrance has the key. Ask them to let you out. You'll have to come up with some kind of reason, but if you've got the uniform they won't really care. How do you like that?”
You like it a lot better than the window option.
“Sure. There's a big office, back there.” You gesture vaguely behind yourself. “Can't miss it. You'll probably want to draw your own conclusions, but somebody was tied to a chair in there. Very recently. There's dust everywhere but it's quite clearly been disturbed not long ago. Somebody smoke a cigarette, stubbed it out on the desk. Somebody who was sitting in the self same chair somebody was tied to. It would be interesting if the smoker and the prisoner were the same person. Very interesting.”
“How do you know that's anything to do with Number 6?”
“Who else? Unless there's more than one person being held against their will in this building tonight.”
“Where did they go?”
“Like I said, you'll probably want to draw your own conclusions. But I'd say they went in that direction.” You jerk a thumb at the air behind you. “Is that satisfactory?”
“It's certainly something.” She sighs again, rubbing the back of her neck, and turns to look at the kid. He hasn't said a word in your presence. “Give the gumshoe your coat and scarf, Marco.”
“Why me?”
“You're a warder. You'll cope better with friendly fire than I will. Not that we'll get any while I'm with you.”
Warder, huh? It's a good thing you didn't end up fighting them. Those with lightning powers are dangerous on their own, but they get downright deadly when they have warders to trap their victims in place. That's the thing about walls: they can keep things out, or they can keep things in. Neither are something you want to deal with in a fight.
You accept the clothing from the glowering teenager with an amiable grin, and don't drop it until the pair are out of sight. Then you jump down from the windowsill and return the smoke bomb and the matches to their respective places.
You pull on the coat over your current, notably lighter, one, and immediately regret it. You were absolutely correct in thinking that it was far too warm for this sort of thing. The addition of the scarf around your lower face has the expected result of making the situation even more intolerable.
This had better damn well work.
Spoiler