>>26101504
>[x] Go to an optometrist.
We cannot function properly if we can't see.

>>26101504
[x] Briefcase
[x] Optometrist

We'll have enough time for two, right?

>>26101504
>[ ] Go to an optometrist.
And get spare glasses too, if this keeps up.

File: 1374200486580.jpg-(11 KB, 235x330, Specs20s-8.jpg)

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>>26101698
Writing.

>>26101708
Of course, it's just which you go to first.

>>26101762
Optometrist first.

You get showered, eat breakfast, shave, and get dressed, wincing all the while at your teeth. It hurts to press them down, but you have the (perhaps unfounded) fear that if you do not, they'll come loose and fall out. A final glance at the mirror, and you nod. Whatever Tom had done, it successfully masked the damages of last night, at least on the surface. And you find your focus much improved. Useful, whatever that was he gave you.

First thing's first though, and that is to repair your spectacles. You set your broken glasses on your face, and take the long walk to Dr. Kepran's. It doesn't take too long, just an hour.

You place the order for a spare while you're at it. You manage to haggle him down to $30, which hurts, but it could be worse.

Dr. Kepran is curious about what might have caused this. You tell him that it was a fall down the stairs. A cliche, but one he accepts. You're just a tax collector after all. He does remark that you're talking a little funny, but you assure him it's just a sore throat.

He'll have them ready for you on Thursday. Fast work. He does his best, as a favor, to fiddle with your pair. Still cracked, but at least they rest better on your head.

As you step outside, a quick check of your watch reveals it's only 7:31AM. There's a boy outside shouting about the news- the morning edition is apparently somewhat scandalous since there's quite a few reading the paper and talking about it.

>[ ] Briefcase.
>[ ] Dentist.
>[ ] Office with car.
>[ ] Call's club.
>[ ] Buy a paper for a dime.
>[ ] Other.

>>26102120
[X] Buy a paper for a dime.

Keeping up with current events is a good thing considering how our life has been going.

>>26102120
>[ ] Buy a paper for a dime.
While reading it walk to:
>[ ] Dentist.

>>26102120
Paper and read it on the way to get a new briefcase.

>>26102120
>[ ] Buy a paper for a dime.
>[ ] Office with car.

We need our ride back.

>>26102120
>[ ] Dentist.
Something is broken, and must be fixed.

>>26102288
We have time for both, it's only 7:30AM

We should go to the Dentist first, so that we can be in tip top shape.

>>26102394
We have $47.78 in our account.
We require dental surgery more than a briefcase.

File: 1374202587044.jpg-(62 KB, 400x490, WilliamJones.jpg)

62 KB JPG

You pass the child a dime, and take one of the papers from the stack. The front page jumps out at you.

"DOUBLE HOMICIDE IN UPSCALE DETROIT"

You unfold the paper, and walk on to your destination, reading along.

"POLICE EMBARASSED by two bodies found at corner of Lincoln and Holden, but three blocks from police station, found in morning by garbage man emptying dumpster. A father and son duo, innocent as freshly laid snow rotting without a suspect in sight! According to our source in the police, William Jones and his son, Robert Jones were shot at close range with a pistol, and left to rot in the garbage at the alley. No signs of transport were on the scene, yet no one nearby can attest to hearing gun shots. As of yet, time of death, motive, and cause are unknown. Robert Jones was a churchman at Holy Rosary Rectory, so in this reporter's opinion, prohibition gangsterism isn't part of it-" The reporter goes on to complain about the licentiousness of local populace, complaints about Hamtramck and Ecorse's stubborn unwillingness to enforce the laws against liquor, but there doesn't seem to be any more salient information.

Other than that, the continuing attempts by law enforcement to counter illegal booze from coming over from Canada, and the Sacco and Vanzetti trial, nothing of interest. You fold up the paper, and place it in the crook of your arm. You're not far from the crime scene, come to think of it. But, you really want that briefcase. Your teeth remind you that they hurt as well.

>It's also worth noting that you have more money in your bank account, but that would eat more time.

>Also, You're confident you can get back to your home before 10:00AM, as long as you're quick at buying the briefcase.

>>26102515
Yes, yes it is. You should really pay attention to that. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't consistently suggest stupid choices.

>>26102582
Go to the dentist.

>>26102394
We always have Sunday for a briefcase too.

>>26102582
Is there a briefcase capable retailer along the route to the dentistry establishment? Perhaps a quite stop, if there is.

>>26102582
>Go to the dentist.

To the dentist. Regrettably, the briefcase will have to wait.

Dr. Seagram's office is nestled up two flights of stairs, in a large, dark granite building. The pretty receptionist glances up when you arrive, her hair done up, make up on. She raises a finger- she's speaking to someone on the phone. You patiently take a seat, and check your watch again. 7:40AM.

"Yes. Yes, of course I'm available then. Uh huh? Oh, you devil!" Talk talk talk. In the cramped office, it seems to reverberate off the walls, seems to reverberate in your jaw. God your teeth hurt. You press down on them again, gingerly, trying to will them to stay in the gum. Your jaw and skull had hurt before, sure, but it wasn't your teeth last night after your meeting with the end table, to your memory, "Oh yes, you know me," She emits a phlegmy chuckle, "Laugh a minute sort."

You glance at your watch, 7:45AM, when she finally hangs up the phone with fervent apologies, and looks at you, unsmiling.

"What do you need then?"
"I was hoping to see Dr. Seagram?" You point at you jaw, "My teeth really hurt."
"Well, Dr. Seagram is currently busy," The receptionist flips open a book, grabs a pencil, "Very busy man he is, I can get you an appointment, at 3:00PM, Friday?" Five days from now. She gives you a cigarette stained smile.

You look past her reception to the doctor's office. You don't hear anything. But you can't be sure?

>[ ] "I suppose that will have to do. Thank you ma'am."
>[ ] Make up an excuse to wait around, see if you can grab hold of Dr. Seagram immediately.
>[ ] "I really must insist, I have to see Dr. Seagram, it's an emergency."
>[ ] Other.

>>26102866
>[ ] "I really must insist, I have to see Dr. Seagram, it's an emergency."

>>26102866
>[ ] "I really must insist, I have to see Dr. Seagram, it's an emergency."

>>26102952
>>26102950
>'My teeth are probably about to fall out' option chosen. Writing.

"I really must insist, I have to see Dr. Seagram, it's an emergency."

The receptionist cocks an eyebrow at this, "Well, you don't look all that bad to me, Mr...?"
"Mr. Johnson," You've come here for close on 3 years by now.
"Right, Mr. Johnson," She sighs, "It would be unfair to the other patients to let you jump ahead in line-"
"Please?"
"Oh for the love of- fine," She stands from her desk with exaggerated effort, "I'll see if I can get Dr. Seagram."

She walks back, raps on the door with her knuckle, and opens it, "Dr. Seagram? A Mr. Johnson to see you?"
"Is there a reason that you're interrupting me?" Booms out of it. Dr. Seagram was a big man, with a full beard, who when you first met him surprised you with his delicacy with his tools. He looked more a man that'd be at home in Tacoma felling trees.
"Well, Mr. Johnson INSISTS it's an emergency."
"An emergency? Tell me, Ms. Crown, does he have blood coming out of him?"
Ms. Crown glances back at you.
"Not a drop."
"Doesn't sound like an emergency to me."

Incensed, you stand violently, open your mouth to say something, and stop as a sudden wave of pain goes over you, and you find yourself coughing. You grab at your mouth, but it's too late, and a tooth clatters down on the ground, red and black. Ms. Crown looks a bit taken aback. You clamp your teeth back down, despite the pain. Black?

"Uh, Dr. Seagram, he might have a point. He just spat out a tooth."
"A tooth?" Finally, the great bearded, lantern jawed Dr. Seagram pushes past Ms. Crown, and looks at you, then down to the floor where your tooth is in a little puddle.
"Well, that's different. Give me a minute or two, I'll get Mitchell out of here."

You always brush your teeth. It shouldn't be black.

After Mitchell is hurriedly shooed out, Dr. Seagram helps you in to his chair, and does his best to give you a reassuring smile, which never works, "Well, you've never had a cavity before you came here," he looks over at the metal tray where your tooth is. Well, the pieces of it. It has the pigment of charcoal, and crumbled like it under the touch. Underneath the black layer, brown, pink, and rotten. It looked awful, "And that was, oh, last month?"
"Yes," You murmur, gripping the arms of the chair, looking at Dr. Seagram looking over the various tools available.

"Right. Think I'd notice that if you had it before. Okay, Mr. Johnson, just open wide, and scream before you bite me if it hurts too much, alright?"

It hurts. You can feel the roots of the teeth shifting uncomfortably in your gums. Four teeth in all, not including the one you spat out, all four back molars on the left side. Dr. Seagram pulls back, scowling, "Dark. Not as bad as the one over there," With a nod to the tray, "But I don't like it. The rest are pearly white. Looks like some kind of disease to me," He reaches for pliers, "I really recommend having these out, Mr. Johnson."
"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" You intrude suddenly, staring at the shining pliers.
"No, well, not really. It's like they're rotting. Usually takes a lot more time," Dr. Seagram, frowns at that, then a dawn of realization comes over him, "Stay where you are, Ms. Crown! Ms. Crown, we're closed. Get your typewriter over here, I need you to take dictation!"

It doesn't sound natural then. A part of you considers, hopes, that Dr. Seagram would give you a discount, if he managed to find out some new disease from your teeth. But it doesn't seem right at all. You reflect you had actually been rubbing elbows with very unnatural people recently. Perhaps it wouldn't be best to trust the dentist?

>[ ] Trust Dr. Seagram.
>[ ] Get out before he starts tearing your teeth out.
>[ ] Other.

>>26103469
>[ ] Trust Dr. Seagram.
He's a practised professional, even if this does seem to be groundbreaking stuff.

>>26103469
>[ ] Trust Dr. Seagram
Best to get these teeth out, as the one who did this to us was not from the Bureau.

>>26103644
>>26103639
>>26103604
Writin'.

>>26103469
He's our gentle lumberjack dentist
Trust him implicitly!

>>26103469
>[ ] Get out before he starts tearing your teeth out.
I didn't read anything about anesthetic being applied, and pulling the molars without it REALLY hurts.

>>26103653
Eh, prepare for pain I guess. This'll be fun.

>>26103701
He's probably going to
Do you run if your dentist doesn't immediately jump you with the laughing gas?

>>26103759
Well, I thought the guy got too excited that he may be on a breakthrough for a discovery of a lifetime.
I'd feel a wee bit cautious on how he might handle this.

>>26103809
Then its as simple as us going
"Hey Doc, how about some of the ol' funny fumes?"

This going to draw a fuckton of unwanted attention to us. Can we convince Dr. Lumberjack to keep our identity completely anonymous? Ms. Crown is still liable to gab, though...

>>26104088
Shes bound by patient confidentiality too
She blabs, we sue her pants off
>If you know what I mean

>>26103469
maybe we should see if we can save a tooth as proof of what has happened to us. that and leaving bits of out body around might come back to haunt us to someone who can use magic.

>>26104131
And then we get even more attention. Not a great plan.

>>26103859
um, we do not need to be completely zonked out. we need to catch that call at 10am you know.

>>26104131
we are not a brute nor unseemly to women!

>>26104209
Not every lawsuit gets media attention fool
>>26104210
I doubt hell agree to do anything without us anaesthatised, its dangerous for him too

>>26104247
we better roll well to keep from passing out too long then.

>>26104299
Its local anaesthetic at the dentists
Especially in this time period
Its like being really drunk

You breathe out slowly. He's your dentist of 3 years. Why shouldn't you trust him?

Ms. Crown, hurries in, looking severely irritated, complaining that it is a Saturday morning, but drags a chair over and sets her typewriter on a low cabinet to take notes. Dr. Seagram for his part seems eager, a large bustling figure as he goes over his tools, arranging them carefully around you.

"Now, Ms. Crown," He steps to you carefully, "First, the characteristics of the subject. Patient Johnson, 26 year old male, approximate height, 5 foot...Seven inches?"
"Are you sure this is relevant, doctor?" Ms. Crown types nonetheless.
"The more data, the better," Doctor Seagram bustles past you to a cabinet which he opens, "Patient complaining of pain in teeth, reaching to jaw. Then, tooth was loosed, on to office floor," You hear his rummaging stop, and then he says, "Scratch that out, sounds unprofessional. Had lost tooth, later found. Third molar. Surface black. Upon investigation, found lower second molar, lower first molar, upper first molar, and upper second premolar all exhibiting signs of symptoms. Alveolar processes are actually eroding. On testing surprisingly found pulp was alive. Pain still exhibited. Blood borne staining theorized," He stands up, with a tank and mask at the ready, "Will remove, and analyze."

He steps over to you, "Okay, so, Mr. Johnson, I'm going to be giving you chloroform and a local now, okay? I'm sorry, this is going to be a difficult operation as it is, and I want to spare you the pain."

You trust Dr. Seagram. You swallow, and nod. He fits the mask over you..

"Breathe deep, Mr. Johnson. Breathe deep."

You obey.

>Gimme three rolls of 1d100, difficulty 40 and below.

>>26104247
In any case, the damage will already be done.

Rolled 77

>>26104353
Never sleep.

>>26104353
>information that clearly identifies us
[tinfoil hat intensifies]

Rolled 76

>>26104353

>Sorry about that long ass delay. I ended up researching dental surgery.

>If you're curious-

http://archive.org/stream/americantextbook00ward#page/494/mode/2up

>>26104379
>>26104405
>>26104413
We dead.

>>26104430
Oops, I used the cyanide rag by accident!
"Oh doctor Seagram!" Rolleyes

File: 1374207901007.png-(1.38 MB, 1118x879, Removal.png)

1.38 MB PNG

>>26104413
>>26104405
>>26104379
>Thankfully, I had this part mostly prewritten.

You pass out for you don't know how long, but awaken to Dr. Seagram laughing.

"Damn their eyes, they can't deny me now!" He laughs, and you hear a noise like steel on steel, "They laugh behind their back all they like, but when I come along with this, ho ho ho, they'll have to rewrite the books!"

You blearily reach in your pocket and pull out your watch. Hard though it is to see, it's now 8:52AM. Damn it all. At least your jaw doesn't hurt nearly as much. You slowly, shakily try to stand, but Dr. Seagram notices you, and rushes over. Ms. Crown seems more focused on typing.

He takes an elbow of yours, straightening you up, a happy smile in his beard, "Thank you, thank you very much Mr. Johnson! Well, with this, I'm sure to-"
"Please," You croak, blinking, "Just, don't make a big deal of it."
"What- oh," Dr. Seagram nods, "Confidentiality, nothing to fear Mr. Johnson, nothing to fear," He leans in and winks, "I can understand wanting to keep one's privacy. Heck, I'll waive the fee for today even, just let me call on you and ask questions, okay? No one needs to know anything about what happened here, isn't that right Ms. Crown?" He turns to his secretary. She nods, scrolls down the page on her type writer, clacks away.

Your teeth. They're there in the tray. Not black like the first, but definitely darkening, and cracked. Five in all. You feel the side of your face. Sore. And the weird gaps where you used to have teeth- you shiver, as you feel their pits. New teeth. Another thing you'd need.

>[ ] "Can I take the teeth?"
>[ ] Surreptitiously check to make sure things really will be entirely private. (3 rolls of 1d100, 60 and below check)
>[ ] "Thank you, Dr. Seagram," Leave it at that, go on about your business to briefcase/office/home/whatever.
>[ ] Other.

>>26104478
>[ ] "Can I get new teeth?"

>>26104478
>[ ] Surreptitiously check to make sure things really will be entirely private. (3 rolls of 1d100, 60 and below check)

Because if not, he might get a visit from the Bureau, or someone affiliated with them that makes people disappear without anyone else knowing. Messing up with memories and all that.

Rolled 82

>>26104478
>lets keep this private if we can

man, i am getting paranoid by the post. we need to get to Tom ASAP.

Rolled 94

>>26104646
wait. chain my mind.
>>26104570
go with this QM

>>26104667
BAH! forgot to remove dice and misspelled.
changed my mind.

>Free shoot.

>>26104525
On the subject of new teeth, Dr. Seagram seems a bit evasive, "Oh, new teeth? Yes, yes, I suppose you'll need them, er, though it's a bit much, don't you think? Just five new teeth, wouldn't fit well, wouldn't fit well at all."

>>26104570
"Why, the American Dental Association!" Dr. Seagram roars, "For too long have they denied me, snubbed me, sidelined me- I went to the same schools, I treat patients, I am as much a dent-"
"Doctor, you're ranting again."
"Ah, well, you know how it is," He waves a blood stained hand, "It's a social thing."
"And, the questions you would like to ask me?" You had no idea that Doctor Seagram nursed such insecurities.
"Oh well, just questions of diet, exercise, activity, anything related to the teeth," Dr. Seagram waves his hand dismissively, "You know how it is, they'll want to know more about this strange disease. And I'll want to make sure you're okay too- remember to rinse your mouth with salt water."

>>26104565
>Just another 1d100 more.

>>26104478
[x] Other
"What about replacement teeth, Doctor? It will be quite a bother to try to chew with 5 teeth missing."

Rolled 2

>>26104721
>Just another 1d100 more.
You got it then.

>>26104756
>Nice, success. Writing.

Rolled 42

>>26104721

>>26104721
>ask if the good doctor has seen something that we seem to be suffering from before.

we might get a lead from it. this can be a clue to the super natural events.

>>26104756
Bueno. Nice save.

>>26104763
"No, no, you won't die," Dr. Seagram assures you, patting you on the back, as you get up, start casting your eye about the office. You lean heavily on the chair, but manage to get a glimpse at what Ms. Crown wrote- your name has been X'd out of the report, but she's got a pad and paper next to her with your name written on it. Ms. Crown noted you there, if nobody else. Dr. Seagram continues to go on, "The surrounding gums were healthy- presumably if something stained the teeth like that and caused them to rot, one would see the same in the gums. Best to remove the teeth rather than have them break while eating- now THAT would hurt," Seagram laughs, though you don't really understand why, "Oh, but anyway, you should be fine, but that's why I'll check on you as often as possible, hm? Make sure nothing else happens."

"And eating with five teeth missing?"

Seagram frowns, then nods, "Okay, I get your point. Would be complicated, but, something might be done. I'll talk around."

"Have you seen anyone else have these symptoms?"
"No, nothing that I've seen, though I did catch in a journal a doctor in Chicago finding this on a dead man they fished out of the river," Dr. Seagram wrinkles his nose at that, "Gangster business that. He speculated it had been mercury poisoning, though personally I don't hold truck with that- you'd see a man die before his teeth had a chance to stain. And that was the whole set of his teeth. Yours was only a few, and you're not dead."

"Thank you, Dr. Seagram," You take another glance at the pad, as Ms. Crown leaves her typed report in the office, then walks back to the front desk, "Though, again, if you don't mind? Please keep this private?"
"Of course," He leans in conspiratorially, and whispers, "Not that I think it's a 'social' disease, but you don't have to worry about it impacting your reputation. Just say you lost your teeth in a fist fight, the women will think you manly!"

You hear a sharp cough from out front.

9:00AM sharp.
>[ ] See if you can take that pad from Ms. Crown, by appealing to your need for privacy.
>[ ] See if you can take that pad from Ms. Crown by sneaking it away from her.
>[ ] Go buy a briefcase.
>[ ] Go to your car that you left at the Revenue Office.
>[ ] Go to that crime scene you read about earlier.
>[ ] Go home.
>[ ] Other.

>>26104969
>[ ] Go to your car that you left at the Revenue Office.

We have glasses and we are no longer in pain. I think we can afford to drive now without distractions.

>>26104969
>[ ] See if you can take that pad from Ms. Crown
THROUGH SEDUCTION

>>26104969
>[ ] Go home.
We must be home to take that call from Mother.

>>26105014
>>26104977
Okay, seems car has the most, so, grabbing car first. Writing.

>>26104969
>[ ] Go buy a briefcase.
>[ ] Go to your car that you left at the Revenue Office.
then go home.

>>26105017
kinda hard to seduse when she just watch you lose 5 teeth and you look like you lost a fist fight.

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You decide to put it out of your mind. You pass by Ms. Crown who gives you a smile and tips her head to you as you pass by. "Come again soon!"

You linger for a moment in front of a store that has a briefcase prominently displayed in the window- but you reason that getting the car first would be the most efficient thing, despite the long walk.

It takes you a few blocks of walking, but you come to your car. To your infinite relief, there's nothing wrong with it. No nest of pythons, no mysterious strangers, no missing wheels, no problem with it at all. Just an ordinary Model A.

You get inside of your car, turn the engine, and smile at the noise of it. Then you see Ella getting out of the Revenue Office. She doesn't seem to see you. She walks to the street corner, looks left then right, and then walks on, in to the city. Revenue Office is closed on Saturday. Strange to see her. Maybe she was catching up on work?

9:20AM. It would take you ten minutes to get back home. It will be nice to have a briefcase again. You drive back to Osterbeck's on 5th. Osterbeck is a German man who works with his two signs in making luggage for the discerning gentleman and lady. Briefcases, purses, bags, suitcases, any manner of contained transport is within. Osterbeck greets you with his strangely off 'hallo' from behind a veritable mountain of leatherwork.

Some fine pieces are on display here. Buckles, snaplocks, belts, black, brown, hard boxed and soft skinned, there's a wide variety of art here.

>[ ] Let's go big. $30.00 for the best one there. Be impressive, and carry lots.
>[ ] Let's go cheap. $10.00, it doesn't look nice, and it's small, but it still has the Osterbeck touch. Should hold up.
>[ ] Utility. $15.00 is the best value, for dollar per square foot. Let's not be too excessive here.
>[ ] Other.
>I do not know enough about briefcases to really describe them properly. I apologize to all the bag related enthusiasts in the audience.

>>26105333
>"Just say you lost your teeth in a fist fight, the women will think you manly!"
*wink*

>>26105339
>[ ] Utility. $15.00 is the best value, for dollar per square foot. Let's not be too excessive here.

>>26105339
>[ ] Utility. $15.00 is the best value, for dollar per square foot. Let's not be too excessive here.
>[ ] Other.
>Then you see Ella getting out of the Revenue Office. She doesn't seem to see you. She walks to the street corner, looks left then right, and then walks on, in to the city.

I think we need to follow Ella (she's Mr. Hamilton's secretary, right?). Maybe give her a ride and talk about what she found out about the Bureau. She may have delved too deeply.

>>26105411
Second.

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76 KB JPG

>>26105363
>>26105379
>>26105411
You pass over the money to Mr. Osterbeck. He smiles at you, says something in German, and then gives you your briefcase. A fine, dark brown double gusset briefcase. Should have more than enough room for your papers.

A quick glance at your watch. You decided quick, which pleases you. 9:30AM. Plenty of time to get home.

Still, you did see Mr. Hamilton's secretary walking about the city. You could try to see if you could find her, you suppose. Don't know how long that would take though.

That, and you really do need to see Mr. Call about your missing two and a quarter hours from last night.

>[ ] Try to find Ella. 3 1d100 rolls, 50 and below to succeed.
>[ ] Go straight home.
>[ ] Check out the crime scene.
>[ ] Go see Mr. Call at his club.
>[ ] Other.

Rolled 88

>>26105505
>[ ] Try to find Ella. 3 1d100 rolls, 50 and below to succeed.

I say we begin investigations with paper trails, before we meet Mr. Call again in person. And Ella may have stumbled on that (though it's a longshot).

>>26105505
>[ ] Try to find Ella. 3 1d100 rolls, 50 and below to succeed.
Let me.

Rolled 99

>>26105582
Roll...

>>26105505
>[ ] Go straight home.
>>26105505

>>26105541
>>26105547
>>26105600

Ehh... We lost her.
Time to go home I guess?

>>26105620
We probably also missed our call because we spent too much time looking for Ella.

Rolled 52

>>26105505
>[ ] Try to find Ella

and for what ever we do, NEVER go back to Mr. Call! he did something VERY BAD to us! we need to return to the Bureau and report this ASAP. (well after we check in with mother and cover our back sides)

>>26105547
>>26105541
>>26105600
So far, not so good. No successes.

You spend fifteen minutes driving around the city aimlessly, hoping to spot her amidst the crowds- but no luck. Nothing.

You can make it back home. Or you can keep searching.

But that would mean missing your phone call.

>[ ] Keep searching. Another 3 1d100, same difficulty.
>[ ] No. She's somewhere in Detroit, probably at home. You're not going to spot her driving around the streets. Go home.

>>26105505
Int Rev QM, i swear these dice rolling program is loaded badly.

>>26105636
We need the SAN points from talking to mum. Go home.

>>26105636
>[ ] No. She's somewhere in Detroit, probably at home. You're not going to spot her driving around the streets. Go home.

Wild goose chases aren't our thing, I guess?

>>26105636
>[x] No. She's somewhere in Detroit, probably at home. You're not going to spot her driving around the streets. Go home.

>>26105636
go home, we can check her home after getting the call.

>>26105675
>Maybe? It seems to like high rather than low. But then it sometimes really likes low. I don't know how 4chan dice seed. I might need to revise my barebones system.

>At any rate, going home. Writing.

>>26105711
Nah, I think this is a pretty good setup already. Personally, I feel that dice just has a sick sense for narrative. It keeps you at the edge of your seat when it is most appropriate.

A busy, expensive day. You have $32.78 in your pocket, but you also have a new briefcase, a jaw that is now mildly sore instead of hurting like Hell (Though you'd have to see how it is after the anesthetic), and new glasses on the way. Your own glasses are still cracked, but at least they let you drive home. God help you if you get in a car chase though. But what are the chances of that?

You pull in to your house's driveway, and walk in. Quick check of the time reveals it's 9:58AM. Good timing. Your dog, shaggy little mutt at knee height bounds at you, panting happy that his master is home.

It is good to be home. You set your briefcase down, turn on a light, and then sit down at your chair by the phone.

10:00AM exactly. Your grandfather clock tones, even as the phone rings.

You reach your hand for the phone. How are you going to handle this?

>[ ] Your time is valuable. Be succinct- don't be a jerk, but don't get too involved in old stories. You know how she gets.
>[ ] Mother has always been there for you. Be open, talk to her. About everything.
>[ ] Must you be this standoffish with everyone? Just answer her questions if they come up.
>[ ] Perish the thought of worrying her. Just be happy, upbeat. Don't worry her with all your strangeness.
>[ ] Other.

>>26105820
>Perish the thought of worrying her.

>>26105820
>[ ] Perish the thought of worrying her. Just be happy, upbeat. Don't worry her with all your strangeness.

>>26105711
well, stick with it for now. i'm sure the /tg/ dwellers here can check the programing of it later. but i do have to ask, are you willing to let the MC get killed off or worse due to bad dice rolls? or are you willing to fudge the results a little?

>>26105820
>[ ] Perish the thought of worrying her. Just be happy, upbeat. Don't worry her with all your strangeness.

If this is a weekly thing, we may need to reassure her if we aren't suddenly available one day. We might start getting busy afterall.

>>26105820
>[ ] Perish the thought of worrying her. Just be happy, upbeat. Don't worry her with all your strangeness.
in fact, don't tip her off on ANYTHING of the weirdness. we don't need to drag her into this.
>>26105861
yes, update our journal.

>>26105869
>>26105863
>>26105878
>>26105861
>Writing. And yeah, it's a weekly thing. I'll put in the input there.

>>26105873
>Well, yes. Timothy's life is fragile. But so far, people haven't done anything stupid risky yet, aside from shooting the door. I don't want to make it a 'quick, roll a number or die RIGHT NOW,' in a situation that calls for it, but if the players risk their life, it's going to be in the hands of the dice. I don't want to make this a paranoia thing though. It's just that Timothy is an ordinary man. For now, I'll leave the dice alone, but I'm keeping an eye on it.

You pick up the phone, and greet your mother with a smile. Your mother has been calling you every week, since your grandfather on your father's side died last year. It's a little bit of a ritual, but it calms her down, and to a certain extent, you appreciate it as well. It is a mite perplexing, but at the moment you relax, smile, and do your best to put on a brave face as you talk with your mother.

She complains about your grandparents- they're staying with her for a time. They were supposed to move to California, but for some reason they've decided to stay in Columbus, Ohio with your mother. The cold isn't good for their constitutions, your mother insists. They shouldn't just gamble with their health like this. She asks how you are, and you reply that you're doing quite well, all is well. Have you been sociable? Oh yes, quite sociable. She is pleased at that, and doesn't press further.

She brings up the possibility of visiting, but you say that isn't possible at the moment. You regret to say things are picking up here, very busy. In fact, you might have to work Saturdays. She's rather surprised at this, off put a bit too, but she understands. Just please, make sure to call me if you get a chance on Saturday if we miss one another. Of course, mother.

"There will always be tyrants, but they won't always have you," She says.

Is there anything you need? No, mother. Everything is fine. You're doing quite well. She talks about the weather, talks about the Sacco and Vanzetti case, complains about Coolidge, all manner of things, but eventually she winds down, sends her love, all that nonsense. You thank her, advise her to have a good day, and hang up the phone. A long sigh. You at once like to know she's well, but on the other hand, god how she gabs. Still. It's good to hear her.

You stand, go for your journal when the phone rings again. Nobody ever calls you, save your mother. Almost ominous, this.

>[ ] Answer the phone.
>[ ] Don't answer the phone.

>>26106107
>[ ] Answer the phone.

"There will always be tyrants, but they won't always have you"
That's some deep shit, Mom.

>>26106107
>[x] Answer the phone.

File: 1374214014997.jpg-(52 KB, 500x357, 2deep.jpg)

52 KB JPG

>>26106127
Sorry. Had to post it once I saw that word.

>>26106107
>[ ] Answer the phone.
In a dull tone that brooks no argument that anything is out of the ordinary.

>>26106187
>>26106182
Phone answering.

>>26106127
Eh, your mom has views about government work. And has a touch of pedantry.

>Writing.

You pick up the receiver.

"Johnson residence," You say, flat, even. A laugh at the other end.
"Mr. Johnson, I THOUGHT you would be in this morning!" Ella, Mr. Hamilton's secretary, "Look, I looked up that Bureau stuff for you, and I found some things I think you might be interested in- would you happen to be free tonight? I can get a ride to your house."
"How did you get my number?"
"I'm the secretary for Mr. Hamilton, how do you think?"
"Same for my address then?"
"Yep!" She seems far too cheerful about her small scale espionage.
"Well, that's great for you, look, can't you tell me over the phone?"
"Well, I can spend an hour here yakking your ear off telling you everything in this folder over the phone, or we can head over to your house and I can show you the documents."

You massage your aching forehead.

Currently, your investigation had only a few leads. Albigram's farm, which held Albigram's wife in it. Who had a rifle. Mr. Call, who you talked to, and kept help but think of as a funny man- but you can't remember much of your time with him. A bad thing. Mr. Tom, and Mr. Buhl of the Indian Bureau at the edge of town. But they seemed to hold antipathy for you.

Then again, perhaps it would be best to let sleeping dogs lie. Just, recover. Go back to work on Monday. Don't worry about it.

>[ ] "We?"
>[ ] "No, I'll have plans."
>[ ] "Very well."
>[ ] "Ella, look, forget about it. I already found out what I needed to know. Thank you for your efforts though," and hang up.
>[ ] Other.

>>26106432
>[ ] "Very well."

>>26106432
>[ ] Other.
"I'd love for you to come over!"

I will succeed in making a waifu yet

>>26106432
>[ ] "Very well."
then immeditly say.
>[ ] "We?"
ask who else is there?

>>26106479
we don't know if she's really on our side yet. no waifu until we are sure. and she may not be alone...

>>26106432
>[ ] "Very well."

Offer her a ride, if it's not too much trouble for both.

>>26106521
Second.

>Merging with "We?" and "Very well." Writing.

"'We?'"
"Kevin, my fiancé. He can give me a ride. He's a cop, so he gave me a lot help with it. It's all so mysterious! It's a lot of fun unraveling this."

You consider matters- no, you can't say no to this. You need to find out what's going on.

"Alright, come on over-"
"Great! How's five sound? I was thinking Kevin and I could eat first, unless you want to come with?"
"No, I'll be alright," You glance at your fridge. You still had some eggs in there. They needed cooking, "I'll see you then."
"Great!"

>[ ] Anything you want to ask Ella? {Custom}
>[ ] Hang up, update journal.
>[ ] Other.

>>26106716
>[ ] Anything you want to ask Ella? {Custom}

"Did you keep Mr. Hamilton in the dark regarding this matter?"

I'm on the fence whether we need to tell her that he's familiar with the BIA, but she already involved a cop, so...

>>26106716
>[] Ah, you are engaged? Congratulations.
>[] Say farewell. Hang up, update journal.

>>26106716
>[ ] Anything you want to ask Ella? {Custom}
ask them to bring some easy to eat grocerys, potatoes to mash. you teeth are going to be sore and the less to chew on, the better.
then update your journal

>Okay, writing. But also going to be gone for a little while, sorry folks. Be back in 20.

>>26106716
She's engaged ;__;

Killing my waifu dreams here, IR.

>Sorry that took way too long. It can never be simple. To make up for it, staying up real late this time.

"Did you talk to Mr. Hamilton at all about this?" You ask, standing up, and taking the phone with you to your journal.
"No, I didn't figure he needed to be told. Should I?"
"No, no," You grab a pen, and start idly writing as you talk on, "It's alright. Just wondering. Congratulations by the way, on your engagement."
"Well, thank you Mr. Johnson," She sounds a bit beleaguered, "See you at five!"

You hear a click on the other end of the line. You frown. You had been tempted to ask her to pick up some kind of food- but that would have been pushing it you suppose. You rub your jaw, set the receiver back on the hook.

You update your journal. You don't usually do it in the day time, but you figure with the way life is treating you, best to update it sooner rather than later.

You finish your notes, stand, give a few affectionate pats to your dog's head, and proceed to the kitchen to make some scrambled eggs. You do have a great deal of time before Ella and Kevin were supposed to arrive. It's 11:00AM. Plenty of time.

>Pick any two.
>[ ] Try cleaning your guns like you learned from Dorothy.
>[ ] Clean this place up.
>[ ] See about going out to get some groceries and have a meal ready for your guests.
>[ ] Hell, go for a jog?
>[ ] Let's go see if we can investigate some place outside. Specify, Revenue Office/Albigram's/crime scene/BIA place you were at last night/whatever else you can think of. Might take longer than expected.
>Other.

>>26107804
> [ ]Other.
Contact the BIA through the phone. If we don't have their number, call Mr. Hamilton and ask for it.
Once the call connects to the BIA, we narrate to Mr. Tom about the missing hours in our memories.

>>26107830
But they're eating beforehand.

Do we remember where we were when Call sent us home? Let's go there.

Rolled 64

>>26107830
You go out to the car, and grab your M1911 - oh blast, you were going to get a shoulder holster for this, weren't you? At least you sprang for the maintenance kit the salesman was pitching you as well. A thought springs to mind that you can easily make a detour for one while getting groceries.

You bring it inside, and then take out your .32 as well. Well, the first step is obviously to take out the bullets, easy enough.

The magazine falls smoothly out of the .45, and just to be safe, you work the slide- sure enough, bullet out. Three bullets out of your .32, placed on the table.

Three? Right, you'll need to reload three more bullets when you put it back together.

You make your attempt, and even manage to do a bit of cleaning, but you've not got it down entirely. Still, some practice was done, and the guns are, if not sparkling clean, surely better for the treatment. Better be, for the two hours you spent on it.

>Maintenance skill improved.

You realize that Kevin and Ellie were going to eat beforehand, but, well, just in case. Anything they don't eat, you can have for yourself. A quick stop to the grocery store, and then to a more specialized store, and you come back with a (Rather uncomfortable, but concealable) shoulder holster and some food fit for company. By the time you get back, it's 2:32PM. You're pleased at the speed with which you got this done.

So, you decide to go looking for Mr. Hamilton's number. He won't be in the office today- it's Saturday after all. But you might have his home phone number, if you can just find it...

>>26107863
>>26107948
>...I just got done writing this pos-never mind, adapting.

>>26107863
Seconding this.

>>26107972
Eh, the phonecall should be quick enough anyway. Either we know Mr. Hamilton's number, or we don't.

Also >Three? Right, you'll need to reload three more bullets when you put it back together.
I can only recall the one bullet we used. The one we fired at the door.
So, unless we deliberately loaded the revolver a couple of rounds short, what happened to those 2 bullets? Check the cartridges left in the gun.

>>26107972
It takes about an hour of digging, but patience pays off by the end. In the back of an IRS folder, Mr. Hamilton's work and personal numbers are listed.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?" Snippy tone of voice.
"Mr. Hamilton? It's Johnson."
"Johnson? Why are you calling me on Saturday?" Mr. Hamilton seems a bit aggrieved, but not overly so. He seems distracted by something.
"It, well, Mr. Hamilton, it's related to that business. Last night?"
A few long seconds pass.
"What is this about?"
At least you have his attention now.
"Do you have a way to contact Tom, or the Bureau of Indian Affairs? I need to speak to them urgently."
"What is this about?"

>[ ] "Well, I don't know if I can confide in you in that."
>[ ] "My memory sir. Rather, that two and some hours of it went missing last night."
>[ ] "I accidentally took something of theirs- they loaned me a folder, and it still has some of their papers in it. I'd rather not get in trouble, and return it to them promptly."
>[ ] Other.


>>26108006
>It's fine. It's what I get for jumping the gun.

>>26108062
>[ ] "My memory sir. Rather, that two and some hours of it went missing last night."

... I'm gonna go for trusting our boss with this info. The BIA might have the knowledge of what may have transpired, but Mr. Hamilton seemed genuinely inclined to look out for us.

>>26108062
>[x) "My memory sir. Rather, that two and some hours of it went missing last night."
As well as four teeth and 2 bullets. Makes for some interesting implications.

>>26108137
>>26108096
>Five.
>At any rate, going with upfront. Writing.

>>26108084
Good thing revolvers don't eject spent casings then. We know we fired one round, so there should be one empty casing.
Now then, the next question would be whether the other two chambers have two empty, used casings or two missing bullets.

>>26108152
Samefag here. Continuing.

Additionally, I'm not liking the implications.

If, hypothetically, we fired the gun twice unknowingly somewhere while our mind is being messed with, we may have been responsible to the recent crime we read in the papers.
If it's really empty, then someone was messin' with our guns and stealing our lead.

"My memory sir. Rather, that two and some hours of it went missing last night."

That, and your revolver has three bullets missing. Cartridges still there, but- but you only shot once that you can remember.

Oh dear.

"I'm sorry? Johnson, are you alright?"
"Fine sir," Good lord your throat is dry right now, "Tom, Tom's number? Or the BIA's number?"
"Well, I'm afraid I don't have that on me at home," Mr. Hamilton starts, "So, I'll have to call you back when I get it, is it something that needs to be done right awa-"
"Yes! Sorry, yes, sir, I would much rather that it be done sooner rather than later."
Mr. Hamilton is silent for a moment, well, as silent as Mr. Hamilton gets. No matter what, it seems his nose is whistling.

"Johnson, are you in trouble? I mean, what does it even mean, that you lost two hours and some minutes of memory? Good God, were you drinking man?"
"Please, sir, the number?"
"Right, right, I'll get right on that Johnson. Call you back in a jiffy."

You set down the receiver, and look at the pistol. Three cartridges. Only one shot you can remember firing. A crime this morning, two men shot. What did Mr. Call make you do?

2:50PM.

>[ ] Go to the crime scene. See if there are answers there.
>[ ] Wait at home. Mr. Hamilton said he would call back.
>[ ] Why beat around the bush? Go find Mr. Call, talk to Mr. Call.
>[ ] Other.

>>26108287
Shit just got real.

>[ ] Wait at home. Mr. Hamilton said he would call back.
>[ ] Other.
If we have a radio, we may want to tune in to see if there are any detailed reports to the crime that happened.

>>26108315
>>26108335
You wait.

You compulsively roll the cartridges in your hand. Two shots. Oh god, you hope you didn't kill anybody last night. Well, you did shoot that one man, but he apparently recovered. That's the only shot you can remember with your pistol. But you have three cartridges in your hand.

3:00PM rolls around. Nothing.
3:30PM comes around. Nothing. You turn on the radio, flick through the stations. Music. Preaching. Music. A man complaining about the plans for Mt. Rushmore. More music. Finally, WJJ has some talk about the case.

"-ruled out by the lack of blood, or dragmarks on the scene, but we were interested in the fact that there wasn't blood on the alley walls- these bullets went straight through 'em, we got the holes in the back to prove it, but the scene's clean, too clean."
"Do you think the killer, or killers would have mopped it up afterwards?"
"Well, that's a possibility too, but I gotta ask you, this is an alley way between a bowling alley and a theater- and the Jones, they were good people, they wouldn't be out too late- so when did they get shot? And how come nobody saw it? I don't know for damn sure, and I can only hope that somebody out there, if they know something, they can call in, and let us know."
"Thank you, that was Dembowski, being awful kind to us here on WJJ, now in other news-"

Frustrating. A glance. 3:40PM. Where was Hamilton?

>[ ] Screw it. Go to the crime scene. Take a look around.
>[ ] Patience. He lives further out from the city than you, he can't just get to the office and back in no time.
>[ ] Other.

You breath out. Wait. Just wait.

Another frustrating forty minutes, and then the phone rings. You pick it up.

"Johnson? It's Hamilton, I have his number."

He's talking awfully easy, considering everything. Then again, that's probably the adrenaline talking at being bitter.

He reads off the number to you, and you diligently write it down. Not a Detroit area code, you note.

"Alright, thank you Mr. Hamilton sir."
"No need, no need, you're one of my best, Johnson. Have to look out for you. Do you need me to call the police?"

"That will be alright sir, I imagine I'll be talking to them very soon, but first I'd like Tom's opinion."
"Hm. Whatever you say then Johnson. I know better than to stick my nose in an Indian affair. Well, keep me posted. Call ahead if you won't be in on Monday."

Mr. Hamilton knows best perhaps.

4:22. Your guests will arrive in forty minutes. Enough time to finish a conversation- that is if Tom doesn't order you about like he is wont to do.

>[ ] Call Tom.
>[ ] Prepare food for guests.

>may have killed someone
>cop is coming to visit
Hoo boy.

>>26108481
>[ ] Patience. He lives further out from the city than you, he can't just get to the office and back in no time.

Dunno if checking Mr. Call's IRS files would turn something up. Maybe a couple of tax dodging cases, if Mr. Tom's impression of him is spot on.

>>26108652
Call Tom.

>>26108652
>[ ] Call Tom.

>>26108654
Haha. That's gonna be awkward. Hide the gun first, I guess.

>>26108682
>>26108685
>>26108691
Callin' Tom.

You dial the number.

It rings. It rings a good six times. You're about to hang up, when you hear the man on the other end pick up.

"What, what WHAT IS IT?" He shouts. It's definitely Tom. He sounds agitated.

"Tom? It's Johnson, and I-"
"Tim? Who the fuck gave you this number!" Oh dear. Tom sounds testy.
"Well, I..." You decide not to mention Hamilton's name, "Researched it in the office, and I came across it-"
"It's not supposed to be an officia- whatever, I'll find out myself. Now, Tim, I sincerely hope you have a very good reason for waking me up."
"At...Near five o'clock at night?"
"Tim," He growls, inhales, probably about to give you some kind of awful threat, when you interrupt.
"It was Mr. Call!"

He stays silent for a moment.

"Ah," He sighs, and you hear the rustling of bed sheets, "I bet I'm going to have to write this down, hrm?"
"Yes, well, after last night, I was on my way home- Mr. Call stopped me before I could leave, wanted to talk with me. We rode in a cab together, and, and I...Don't remember. I blanked out. I just remember, he was very funny- and then when I got back home, I realized I'd lost two hours and fifteen minutes. They had changed my watch back on top of that."
"Yeah, figures. Edward was always careful," You hear a clatter, and a murmured curse, and then the sound changes subtly, as Tom is clearly walking somewhere else, "At least he didn't kill you."
"Well, he might have made me kill somebody."
"Huh. What makes you say that?"
"I remember shooting ONE bullet, last night. But today, while, while cleaning my gun- there are THREE empty cartridges in my revolver," There's some quiet. On the other end, you hear something being poured, so you press on, "I think Mr. Call might have had me shoot someone. While I was unaware. And this morning, I read about two murders-"
"Okay, okay, thank you Tim, but," You hear a slurp on the other end of the line, "Why should I care?"

File: 1374226336088.jpg-(63 KB, 394x630, Tom.jpg)

63 KB JPG

"Beg pardon?"
"You heard me right, Tim," At that, he sounds acrid, nasty. Acidic almost, "Don't mistake this for amiability with Eddie Call. He's a low down son of a bitch, and I do hope and pray that he ends up drowning in some kind of accident involving a broken sewage line, fire, and eighteen days of screaming, but this businness between you and him is none of my concern. I collect. My job," And at this, he sounds particularly angry, "Has nothing to do with protecting people. That's the job of the police."

Last time you checked, police stopped enforcing laws regarding witches and wizards around the era of the Salem Witch trials.

"I might be a man wanted for murder, I can't go to the police! It's Call's fault!"
"You ended up going in a cab with him, what did you think he would do?"
"I didn't know him! I don't know about any of this! I'm just a tax man!"
"So am I," At that, he sounds a little sad, "And I can't help you."
"There's nothing you can do?"
"Nothing I can do, no."

>[ ] "Tom, if you truly think Mr. Call is such a monstrous man, then why don't you do something about him?"
>[ ] "Well what the Hell do you do then, Tom?"
>[ ] "If you just stand by and watch Tom, you're just as bad as he is. You know that, right?"
>[ ] Just hang up. This is a wasted effort.
>[ ] Other.

>>26109045
>[ ] Other.

"What can I do to protect myself against him and people like him then? He has me at a disadvantage with that ability of his. I don't even know what he did!"
"And a gun can only take me so far, given what may have happened last night."
"Throw me a bone here; the police may have no jurisdiction, but there must be some rules, conventions, or contracts that I should be dealing with?"

>>26109045
>[x] He is of course right. As a tax man he cannot do anything. However, he does have contacts. If the magic world won't leave us alone there is no advantage in living a quiet life. We seem to have some kind of connection to magic and it is time we learned about it.

Optional: >Tell Tom why you think you have a more powerful connection with magic than is usual. Tell him about a) the strange offer you got after the table hit you. b) remembering snippets of the two hours despite Mr. Call's attempt to remove our memory c) that one of those snippets was about how hard to manipulate you were d) about the strange dreams where you were asked to judge something.

Optional: >While Tom is not in the business of protecting people attacking a member of his own bureau would be something he was allowed to deal with. Retry becoming a member.

Alternative avenue: Go to that chinese guy who offered to tell you more if you visit him.

>>26109112
Seconding this.
"Surely there must be rules and regulations about these kind of things, he can't go on hypnotizing people nilly-willy can he?"

>>26109112
>"And a gun can only take me so far, given what may have happened last night."
You mean nowhere? The gun has so far been mostly useless and will probably be a disadvantage later when people think they need to dispatch us quickly and fully because of it. We cannot even hit things with it because of our complete lack of skill.

>Merging.
You swallow a flash of anger. He's a tax man. Of course.

"What am I supposed to do then? What can I do to protect myself? I have a gun, but what can that do against hypnotism? Please. Give me something. You might not be able to do something, but maybe you can tell me something. There has to be some rule, some law he broke? I don't know what happened last night, but surely there has to be some law against that. He can't just be allowed free reign," You wait at the other end of the line, "There has to be something, right?"

Tom snorts at the other end of the line, "If I knew, I wouldn't be in this job."

"Fine, if you can't help, then maybe you can tell me someone out there that can. I didn't want to part of this, but I got dragged in to it. Tell me there's somebody else I can talk to."

"Nope. Nothing I can do. And don't bother with Ralph either. After your dealings with Mr. Low," He drags out Mr. Low's name, for some reason, "I don't imagine that he'd be want to be seen."

"Well, you can protect members of your organization, can't you?"
"You're not a member."
"Well take me on then!"
"I told you, I didn't want to hire you. Goodbye, Johnson, and please, don't call me back."

Click.

4:38PM.

>[ ] Call Tom back.
>[ ] Prepare meal for Ella and Kevin.
>[ ] Go to Low's.
>[ ] Other.

>>26109239
>>[x] Prepare meal for Ella and Kevin.
I still don't get why we want to prepare a meal for those who have just eaten. Maybe something snack-like?
We will visit Mr. Low later or tomorrow.

>>26109279
Eh, somebody mentioned it earlier, so I'm sticking with it.

>>26109239
Tidy up the place for Ella and Kevin, you don't want to appear slovenly.

>>26109279
Let's not prepare a meal, they won't be hungry and it'll just be awkward when they turn our offer down.

>>26109292
>>26109309
>>26109279
Okay, tidying. Writing.

>>26109309
>>26109290
I know, that's why I said just to make a snack. You can always have a snack and something like small carrot sticks with a sauce or something like that can be eaten even immediately after a meal. Turns the "make a meal" into something more reasonable.

>>26109337
Carrot sticks, like a commie vegetarian? We offer them cheese and crackers like God intended.

>>26109395
It was the first example that popped into my head for something you can eat without end and after a meal. I have no idea what sort of snacks you have to prepare there were 100y ago.

You clean up your house, make it more presentable. Hide the guns. Prepare some light food as a snack. However, soon enough you have a knocking on your door. 5:06PM. Rather on time for Ella.

You go to the door, and there the two are, arm in arm. Her in a dress more suitable for a club, short black hair styled close, the arm unfilled by Kevin holding a thick manila folder to her chest, and him still in his police uniform, hat already off, blonde hair parted on the left. He smiles, and reaches his free hand for yours, and gives you a maybe too strong handshake, "Kevin Brian. You've already met my wife to be."
"Hi Mr. Johnson! I'm sorry, I know you're not too big of a fan of company, but as soon as I mentioned the Bureau of Indian Affairs, he just went off. He's been a big help."
"No, no problem at all. Thank you for helping us, Mr. Brian."
"Please, call me Kevin?" He smiles for some reason at you again. Something off about a man smiling this much.

You stand aside, wave them in to your modest house.

Ella makes a mock complaint about you making snacks, saying she doesn't want to be tempted in to eating too much, so Kevin offers that he can eat them all to remove the temptation. They share a laugh, a gaudy kind of laugh that couples seem to emit all the time. It prickles you, annoys you a bit, but eventually you steer them to chairs, and try to move the conversation to what Ella found.

"Well, here's the thing Mr. Johnson: there ain't a Bureau of Indian Affairs!" She beams at her discovery, "There's an Office of Indian Affairs, but that isn't what keeps cropping up here."
"Yeah," Kevin leans in, smiles, "I'm thinking it's some kind of a scam. Big guy I met," He chuckles, "Looks like the kinda guy Moby Dick'd be gunning for, if you know what I mean," Ralph, presumably, "Managed to chase me out of a scene saying that he was with the Bureau for Indian Affairs, which I thought was kind of funny- seeing as it was a burglary at the old Town Crier club."

Town Crier used to be a tavern. Then, it became a gentleman's club. Now, it's shut down.

"I complain to my chief, and y'know what the bum does?" Kevin jerks a thumb at his uniform, "Busts me down to directing traffic!"
"It's not fair," Ella says with whole hearted sympathy.
"Yeah, but, I'll show him," He jerks a thumb to Ella's folder that she's holding, "We follow these leads, we'll bust this case wide open. She ain't just a pretty face, she's got a good head on her shoulders."
Ella smiles, "He sure is a lucky guy, eh?"
"Aww c'mon doll, you're supposed to be bashful and modest," Kevin smiles, turning to her.

You stop the nauseating display before it goes any further, asking for specifics.
"Sorry Mr. Johnson," Ella waves off her husband, setting the folder down on the table, "It's like this- we actually have had a few truant tax payers talking about the Bureau for Indian Affairs, and you weren't the first guy we met. I snuck in to the office after hours- don't tell Hamilton!"
Kevin smiles, "I'll say I made you an honorary deputy."
"Quit it Kevin, anyway, I took a look at Hamilton's desk, in the locked drawer?" She smiles at that, "I noticed he put your case, the Albigram one? In there. Bobby pins are useful. So, I peek inside, and it's near to bursting with this kind of stuff, with stamps at the top saying 'Bureau for Indian Affairs,' over and over. Most of them then had a stamp after that, saying 'cleared.' Yours had a special stamp, though, kind of a three line thing. But not these. These are blank."
"You took the original copies?" You speak now, leaning forward, pulling open the folder. There have to be fifty pages here, loosely paper clipped together.

"Yeah," Ella shrugs, "He'll be back in the office on Sunday, I'll put 'em back like I found 'em, he won't be none the wiser. So, we got roughly three cases here," She taps the one at the top, a paper scrawled with Golomir at it. Doesn't seem to have IRS labels on it though, "This one's from outside of our department, don't know why. It talks about a guy who is apparently a dog breeder or something outside of Detroit by the waterfront. Says that he has an outstanding balance, but, and here's where it gets weird, it says 'collect via service.'"
"Sounds like prostitution," Kevin scowls, "Sick shit probably going on on that remote farm," A gasp, and slap on the shoulder for Kevin from Ella, "Babe, you read the papers, and I know for a fact that last nigh-"
"So, what does this mean?" Like herding cats.
"Well," Ella speaks slowly, "They want to talk to him, right? We talk to him first, get an idea of why the Bureau wants to talk with him."
"This doesn't make sense," You scratch your chin, "Why would this be in Mr. Hamilton's desk?"
Ella shrugs, "Well, if I had to guess, Mr. Hamilton probably wants to know same as we do.

Fair enough.
"And the other two?"
Kevin speaks up now, leaning in, "I know where one of their guys is! Big guy, you can't miss him- probably can see him from the next town over. Anyway, I'm working Trumbull and I see him. Won't ever forget him. He comes out of this tenement down by the docks. Real skeeze house. So, I get Ted to watch my shift, and follow him- I lose him, search me, I don't know how, but I get a hunch. He keeps coming out of this place every day. I think he lives there. I've seen him coming out of there for four days now."

Apparently, Kevin knows where Ralph lives.

"And the last thing?"
Ella flips the top case off, points at the next one, "Well, it looks like they've got a meeting place over at the Holy Rectory. It says it's cleared, but," At this Ella glances over to Kevin, worried.
Kevin clears his throat, "With the recent death of Father Jones, I'm thinking that it might not be a coincidence."

You bring up the Holy Rectory pages. All handwritten, in cursive. A great deal of swoops and swirls. It describes the Holy Rectory as a very important ally, and in fact mentions Father Jones by name, pointing out that he had a 'proper mindset.' At the bottom of the report, a name: Tom. Hand written.

"So," Kevin leans in, "We spilled our beans. Spill yours?"

"Kevinnnnn," Ella looks pointedly at the officer, "You don't go about it this way."
"I know, I know, I heard the Christmas party story," Kevin smirks, and this causes Ella to look away and blush, "But, I do want to know about why he's asking about Bureau, and getting my baby doll snooping about like Mr. Moto," He looks at you, "So, gimme the straight skinny chief. What's the story?"
"Kevin, he had to meet those Bureau guys, of course he's gonna be curious."
"Sure, sure," Kevin nods, moving the folder to the side, and flipping it shut, "He seems likable. Has good taste," He smiles at one of your adventure magazines, lifts it up, " 'The Djinn Tamer in the Harems of Al-Sihar,' hah, what'd it take to get you in one these outfits?" He points at the cover, and gets a jab in the shoulder from Ella, "Oh! She could be a boxer y'know. Move over Joey Lynch! Hah, but seriously," He looks you in the eye, blue eyes suddenly hard, "What's your deal?"

>Fuck that was a long write.
>[ ] Be honest.
>[ ] Be evasive.
>[ ] Don't give anything.
>[ ] Lie.
>[ ] Other.

>>26109709
>[ ] Be honest.
We're gonna get back at that sonovabitch Mr. Call and Tom back to boot.

>>26109742
Let's not tell them everything, if we start talking about magic they'll think we've lost our mind. Just give the general gist of things but leave out the weird details.

>>26109800
Yeah, that sounds good.

We should tell them enough to get them on our side though.

You've had to explain this so many damn times in the past, what, two days? You should write this down on a handy note card, save time. For now though, keep it short, and keep it sweet.
"The Bureau for Indian Affairs was there when I nearly died to Mr. Albigram. There's something very not right in Detroit. I want to get to the bottom of it."

Straightforward. Honest. They didn't need to know about all the magic stuff.

Kevin leans back, nibbling on some of your snacks, considering you.
"See?" Ella tries her best to comfort Kevin, patting him on the thigh, "He's not trying to sell me in to white slavery or anything."
"Hm," Kevin scratches his chin, and then shrugs, "Yeah, sorry about giving the squeeze there, suppose you're not so bad. So, where do you want to start? We can do this tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Sure! I don't have to work a shift 'till Sunday night, so why wait?" Kevin gives a smile to you, "I realize that most of your work is adding numbers, but you go out in the field sometimes, right? We gotta hit the streets to get to the bottom of this. So, pick one of the three, and let's take a look!"

Fair point, you suppose. Now you have a badge on your side when you're going out there. Makes you feel a bit better.

>[ ] Let us see what Ralph does in his off hours.
>[ ] No, he's a dangerous man. Let's see what the Bureau wanted from the dog breeder.
>[ ] Man, it'll be uncomfortable, but you might be able to find out what Father Jones was doing with a cop by your side.
>[ ] Live a little dangerous. "Kevin? That murder scene this morning, think you could get us in?"
>[ ] Tonight? Can't it wait another time? You work better alone, give them an excuse so they buzz off.
>[ ] Other.

>>26109885
Check out murder scene first, it's the one that worries you the most anyway. See if you get flashback or something?

>>26109983
Also, ask if Kenny can pull some facts about Albigram's wife? Does she have a record?

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73 KB JPG

Kevin raises an eyebrow at your request.
"The crime scene? We scraped that clean. Why would you want to go there?"
"Well, Father Jones was mentioned here," You point at the paper, "Why not go check out the scene of the crime?"
"Mr. Johnson, the detectives have already looked at it though," This is Ella speaking, with some concern in her voice.
"They might have missed something," You're sweating now. Damn it, you didn't really have a good reason. Well, you resolved to be honest with them, "It's just that-"
"Okay," Kevin nods, "Sure. We can go take a look there," He stands, dusting himself off, "Church is nearby anyway."

He stands for a moment, in between you and the window letting light in the room, casting you in shadow.

"I'm interested to see what you'll find, Mr. Johnson. I gotta ask though, you have a gun?" Kevin grins down at you, all friendly.

You've got your .32 revolver in your dresser drawer underneath a crisp white shirt. The .45 Colt is hanging from a coat rack in its holster.

Kevin's revolver is at his hip.

"We might need it, just in case."

>And it is 4:30AM. I am sleepy. It's probably showing in the writing. At any rate, have a good night folks. I think I might start next thread Tuesday. Thanks for staying with me so long.

>>26110083
Thanks for your work, OP! Also, archived.

>>26110111
I long for the day this quest gets misarchived.

You can't say you're a real quest until you get misarchived.

>>26110125
It's legit, anon-kun~

>>26110147
I know, and that disappoints me. I mean, I'm glad that it got archived and all...

>>26109983
>randomly bring up unsolved murder scene that you may be responsible for to cop
>ask to inspect it with cop
oh my god anon what the fuck are you doing

>>26113675
Yeah. Whaddya wanna bet they're going to show Kevin the .32 pistol too?