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Let 'im Ripp.; Semi-open. (Please contact beforehand.)
Topic Started: Jun 14 2010, 04:05 PM (183 Views)
Basalt
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Newbie
[ * ]
His breath rushed into his lungs with a pained gasp, the cool, moist air may as well have been fire for the amount of pain his chest was in. He would have clasped his hands to his torso, but for some reason, couldn't raise them from his sides. They seemed to be strapped down, and that was only a guess. The room he was in was dark, cold, the only noise in the room was the rain beating against the single window.

The last thing he remembered was...

* * *

The weather was as miserable as it could get on an Island community. Salty air chilled the bones, rain beat down on the rooftops and cobblestones that lined the sidewalks and walls. Normally, most people would be warm inside their homes, shunning the damp chill that infested the area that night, and most were. Save for a trio that stood huddled around a slumped over form at the corner. One held a lantern and an umbrella while the other two knelt down by the figure on the ground.

There was a plume of smoke that exited one of the men's lips, thick mutton chops ran down the sides of his face, connecting in a well groomed mustache over his upper lip. He chewed on the end of his pipe as he looked down at the body before him. The blood draining from her body was long since past it's prime, the heard having stopped beating long ago. "Dumped the body right when the rain started." He grumbled, his voice deep and gravely. He was an older man, although most likely not high in rank, due to the fact he was crouched down in the rain looking at a dead body.

"The rain means less witnesses, more time before the body is discovered and the rain destroys a lot of clues as to the killer." Was the response. The other man looking over the corpse was less then one half the age of the other, but even so, seemed to only be slightly less in rank then the other man. He produced a small weapon from his back hilt, still in the sheath, a dagger with an odd grip. Using the leather covered weapon, he tilted the head of the corpse to the left. A woman, not the most beautiful, but from the way she was dressed, she was attractive enough for her career.

As he tilted her head, it was apparent that her throat had been severed by a long gash, deep and jagged, as the head nearly moved interdependently of the neck. The younger man let out a deep, clearly disturbed sigh. "Second one tonight, from what I've heard." He grunted, casting his eyes to the Senior, if in age only, Marine. Although the man chomped down on his pipe and said nothing, that might as well have been a full confession.

"It's scary, Basalt." The older man spoke, his voice stern, but even so, it had a hint of fear. "This person, they started out dirty, sloppy. Hacking at the body like a butcher with the first victim." He spoke, the words still tender, he had been the one to find the first corpse. "Cut up like a pig. We could have passed it off as a drunk pirate taking his money back from a woman who helped him with his 'shore leave'. It was dirty, insane, enraged. But..." The clack of his teeth chewing at the lip of his pipe could be heard as his mind wandered to the second body. "After that, it became more then just a killing. The body torn open, organs removed, it was cleaner that time too...clean for a slasher that is. Then the next and now this..."

The two Naval Men rose to their feet, the third man who held the umbrella jumped slightly at their sudden movement, as if two statues had just sprung to life. The younger man who had been coined as Basalt could do nothing but shake his head at the scene before them, taking the lamp and umbrella from the silent assistant who then set about removing a tarp and casting it over the body. "This woman's cuts were clean. It didn't look like it was made by a sword, or dagger." He mulled, and it was true. In most slashing attacks there's a tearing of flesh, leaving the flesh looking ripped rather then sliced.

The older man nodded, tapping out the moist tobacco of his pipe. "He's getting cleaner, and not only that...braver. Two women in one night." He grumbled, answering Basalt's earlier question. "I tell you one thing, Basalt..." The Naval Inspector heaved. "When we find this....person..." The word was almost spat in place of something much worse. "He won't be spending any time in a cell, I promise you that."

The younger Ensign nodded, hooking his weapon once more to the back of his belt. "I can attest to that."
Basalt • Ensign • Blacksmith • Undetermined.Commendations: 0 • SD Earned: 0 • Beli: 0 • Location: Undetermined.
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Basalt
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Newbie
[ * ]
...making that rookie mistake, a loud crash and then...

He groaned, his arms straining once more against the restraints that held him down on the...table? His wrists were secure, as were his ankles, but he was able to run his fingers against the counter he was strapped to. Smooth, metallic, cold and...suddenly his breath caught in his throat. Footsteps.

Not in the room, but outside of it, coming closer at a casual, comfortable pace. A door had been just behind his head, and although he strained to see who was opening it, it was still too dark to make out anything beyond the fact that it was human...shaped. But aside from trying to catch a glimpse, Basalt remained perfectly still. It was best to keep his captor thinking he was unconscious, even if that didn't really do him much good tied up.

As he lay there, his eyes shut, there was a soft tinkling before all of a sudden his face went ice cold. His mouth let out a sputter as he spat water out, feeling the burn of it going up his nose, he whipped his head from side to side, gasping.

"That's better..." The voice came, baritone, calm, rough and unmistakably male. "Now, you, Ensign Basalt. I know all about you. Your life is a matter of public record." The voice carried on, barely ever changing tone. "Enrolled in the Navy as a child, family dead, homeland destroyed. Oh, so sad." He recited, as if reading, but it was too dark to read...wasn't it? "But me? Oh, I'm sure you, of all people, have some questions for me." The voice had the slightest hint of bemusement, but even that was laced with that same infuriating indifference that every word seemed to be bathed in.

Questions? This man wanted to be asked questions? He was half tempted to remain silent, or to pretend he had lapsed into unconsciousness again, but he knew that wouldn't do him any good. "How about your name?" He strained out against the ash that burned in his lungs.

"My name...my name...my real name is so...underwhelming. I like the one you Navy boys chose for me. What was it?....oh yes..."

* * *

"Jack."

"Jack?" Basalt repeated, a bit of confusion in his voice. "So we know his name?" He questioned, wondering if there had been a break through in the murders he'd been unaware of.

"No." The older Marine grimaced, dropping the paper on his desk, nearly knocking his name plaque, which read Investigator Jenkins, to the floor. Stamped across the front page of Loguetown's Herald in massive bold leaders was 'Jack the Ripper evades Navy'. "That just screams faith in the Navy, don't it?" The Investigator heaved as he reached for his pipe.

Basalt plucked the paper up from the desk before unfolding it so that he could scan the entire story. "Look at this. They know who we questioned, what we asked, the answers. Listen! 'When all witnesses were questioned about the whereabouts of last night's victim, those interviewed noted as seeing a man, but descriptions varied from tall and thin, to short and fat. It seems that the only thing the Navy seems to know about this Ripper is that he is male, for all they seem to be able to discern, he could be any Jack in Loguetown.'" Basalt's face contorted in disgust as he tossed the paper back down onto the desk.

The Inspector sighed as he looked into his empty tobacco pouch, one large hand reaching down to clasp the handle of the drawer and yank it backwards, producing a new, identical pouch stuffed full of pipe's tobacco. "I suspect one of our boys sold out." He admitted begrudgingly, tightly packing a new roll into his pipe. "There's no way the paper could have printed all that information without having one of our boys spill his guts." He sighed. "Can't really blame 'em though, it's not like they get paid too terribly well."

Just as Basalt was going to suggest getting a raise to hold his loyalty, the door burst open as a haggard looking officer nearly toppled over as he made his way in. "Someone reported another victim!" The man managed to choke out between pained gasps as he braced himself against the door frame.

Basalt looked to the Inspector, who gave him a similar look in response before the two of them rose from their seats and dashed through the door, nearly knocking the messenger clear off his feet.
Basalt • Ensign • Blacksmith • Undetermined.Commendations: 0 • SD Earned: 0 • Beli: 0 • Location: Undetermined.
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