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Breathing heavily, you get back in your car and open up your phone. Their picture is still there, except in the picture, they aren't half as dead as they are now! Heeheehee!!! Oh well! They really ought to be thanking you, the fucking brat... You turn your car on and let the radio wash over your newest sin. It feels SO GOOD.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are a Craigslist Killer.

You navigate the online marketplace, placing ads and responding to others, all in search of victims.

Your killings are primarily ______ in nature:
>Revenge-based
>Random
>Sexual
>Money-based
>>
>>4819167
>Occult

WE MUST FEED THE QUEEN IN THE SHATTERED MIRROR
>>
>>4819167
>Random
Sometimes we get bored and we want to snap someone's neck.
>>
>>4819167
>Sexual
>>
>>4819167

>Sexual
>>
>>4819167
>Sexual
>>
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>>4819168 I was rooting for this one, thanks for the write-in. I'll probably sprinkle a few Occult elements in, but won't focus entirely on it. And in order to not be banned or offend my own delicate, flower-like sensibilities, this quest will be ~PG13. As PG13 as a stalker/rapist/killer protagonist can be.
>>4819170
>>4819182
>>4819191
>>4819226

You lock your phone and pocket it, look wistfully and longingly at the polyplastic weaved material behind you, wipe her lipstick off of your mouth, crank up the radio, and drive off.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCG1fWfp4mI

Nice! A great sing-along tune. Some people smoke cigarettes after sex. Me? I like to sing. Go ahead and judge me, your court has no authority in my Lincoln Continental!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The freshly-raped corpse triple-tarped and twined up in your trunk tells tales no one should understand. You wrote that macabre story in a desperate fit and can't quite explain it yourself when confronted with the variety of colors and inhumane markings on her body. The last time, your first go-around, you didn't have much time, maybe 30 minutes at the most.
This one in your trunk...

>Was the same. Had to be quick. In & out, as they say, heeheehee! And did you say triple-tarp? Well, you meant single-tarp. Woopsie!

>You took a few hours to do your "extracirriculars", but you still left the scene rather quickly and made a point to clean up well. Can't afford to get swept away in Fantasy Land. What sick road have you travelled down? You said this would be a one time ordeal, you said you were sorry, yet here you are again...

>Four days of eff, you, enn. Fun. That's the only way you can describe it. You were able to take your time and do everything you wanted. You planned out a week long getaway for this bitch. Worth every penny. After disposal of the body, explaining your decision to your boss to take a four day vacation in the middle of October will be the only tough part of this mission.

>Is actually the same girl, you just wanted to take her somewhere nice for your honeymoon. You are the romantic type, after all.
>>
>You took a few hours to do your "extracirriculars", but you still left the scene rather quickly and made a point to clean up well. Can't afford to get swept away in Fantasy Land. What sick road have you travelled down? You said this would be a one time ordeal, you said you were sorry, yet here you are again...
Here we go, killing again. Bad habits die hard.
>>
>>4819336
Secretly dying on the inside when I read back this post and it's not all in the same Point-of-View. I shifted between first and second(?) person. Sorry if this threw anyone else off, I'll try to get it straight going forward.
>>
>>4819336
>>Was the same. Had to be quick. In & out, as they say, heeheehee! And did you say triple-tarp? Well, you meant single-tarp. Woopsie!
>>
>>4819336
>You took a few hours to do your "extracirriculars", but you still left the scene rather quickly and made a point to clean up well. Can't afford to get swept away in Fantasy Land. What sick road have you travelled down? You said this would be a one time ordeal, you said you were sorry, yet here you are again...
>>
>>4819336
>>Four days of eff, you, enn. Fun. That's the only way you can describe it. You were able to take your time and do everything you wanted. You planned out a week long getaway for this bitch. Worth every penny. After disposal of the body, explaining your decision to your boss to take a four day vacation in the middle of October will be the only tough part of this mission.
>>
>>4819336
>Four days of eff, you, enn. Fun. That's the only way you can describe it. You were able to take your time and do everything you wanted. You planned out a week long getaway for this bitch. Worth every penny. After disposal of the body, explaining your decision to your boss to take a four day vacation in the middle of October will be the only tough part of this mission.
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

1 - "Extracurriculars"
2 - eff you enn
>>
It's not a long drive back to Motel 6 from the Burberry Hotel. It's perfect there, at Burberry. A lonely stop along a battered highway. An old man, hard of hearing, runs the front desk and ostensibly the whole operation. He posts his rentable rooms on craigslist, which is how you found him. Only four rooms, and right now they are all bought out. Three of the rooms were empty the whole time. You know this because you bought the whole place out with different credit cards and different automatically-generated craigslist email addresses. It's taken you three months of finagling reservations, two disguised inspections of the property and many weeks of listening to your police scanner to finally give that place the thumbs up.

You didn't pleasure myself during that whole time. Once you found the Burberry Hotel, you just worked. With your head down, yet simultaneously up in the clouds. Work, uggghhh, why did you have to remind yourself. You're not looking forward to going to your next shift as a:
>CNC Machinist
>Night Janitor
>Computer Systems Analyst
>Long-haul Truck Driver
>Police Detective
>Senior Citizen Center Assistant
>Write in - ???

The sexed-up corpse worms its way back into your mind, not that she ever really left. She must be all sweaty and clammy and lukewarm, cooking in those tarps. Breasts soft and pillowy. Sweat standing slack on her body hairs. The smell. Ohhhh fuuuuck, the wonderful, sour smell. The first girl was a messy fluke, this second "date" was everything you've dreamed of. Complete satisfaction. You blink, then slam your eyes shut, but the image persists. Heh. She just couldn't get enough of you. Or is it you who couldn't get enough of her?
>One more go can't hurt, you've got time. These animals in Motel 6 won't notice a thing over their blaring TV's and rampant drug abuse.
>No, Motel 6 isn't the place to be doing this. You're not bringing that tarp inside your room. It's time to get ready to go home.
>You take the Lincoln down the road and pull off to the side for a grope-y pit stop.
>Back on the prowl. Mallory is used up. You don't want that slut any more. Maybe the Motel 6 has some more of "My Type".
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4819949
>Police Detective
I was born with hard skin. That and as one of the popo, we should be able to know how to more easily prevent ourselves from being caught.

>No, Motel 6 isn't the place to be doing this. You're not bringing that tarp inside your room. It's time to get ready to go home.
No, no, too many complications. Not worth it. Need a more secure place.
>>
It's not a long drive back to Motel 6 from the Burberry Hotel. It's perfect there, at Burberry. A lonely stop along a battered highway. An old man, hard of hearing, runs the front desk and ostensibly the whole operation. He posts his rentable rooms on craigslist, which is how you found him. Only four rooms, and right now they are all bought out. Three of the rooms were empty the whole time. You know this because you bought the whole place out with different credit cards and different automatically-generated craigslist email addresses. It's taken you three months of finagling reservations, two disguised inspections of the property and many weeks of listening to your police scanner to finally give that place the thumbs up.

You didn't pleasure yourself during that whole time. Once you found the Burberry Hotel, you just worked. With your head down, yet simultaneously up in the clouds. Work, uggghhh, why did you have to remind yourself. You're not looking forward to going to your next shift as a:
>CNC Machinist
>Night Janitor
>Computer Systems Analyst
>Long-haul Truck Driver
>Police Detective
>Senior Citizen Center Assistant
>Write in - ???

The sexed-up corpse worms its way back into your mind, not that she ever really left. She must be all sweaty and clammy and lukewarm, cooking in those tarps. Breasts soft and pillowy. Sweat standing slack on her body hairs. The smell. Ohhhh fuuuuck, the wonderful, sour smell. The first girl was a messy fluke, this second "date" was everything you've dreamed of. Complete satisfaction. You blink, then slam your eyes shut, but the image persists. Heh. She just couldn't get enough of you. Or is it you who couldn't get enough of her?
>One more go can't hurt, you've got time. These animals in Motel 6 won't notice a thing over their blaring TV's and rampant drug abuse.
>No, Motel 6 isn't the place to be doing this. You're not bringing that tarp inside your room. It's time to get ready to go home.
>You take the Lincoln down the road and pull off to the side for a grope-y pit stop.
>You're back on the prowl. Mallory is used up. You don't want that slut any more. Craigslist is rife with women eagerly searching for glamorous opportunities, overpaid placeholder jobs and all sorts of barely-useful, niche knickknacks. Mallory here fell for your non-existent "Like-new Hair-straightening Iron - $15 OBO". It's so easy. Time to reel in another one.
>Not your typical modus operandi, but maybe the Motel 6 has some more of "My Type".
>Write in - ???
repost b/c i messed up the perspective again, and also I added another option.
>>
>>4819956
(Sorry, my bad, I'm autistic/OCD with my writing, lol. If you want to change the second answer you can or if you want to keep it the same, you don't need to post again/do anything)
>>
>>4819974
I still agree with my previous post. I understand, though.
>>
>>4819965
>Long-haul Truck Driver
>No, Motel 6 isn't the place to be doing this. You're not bringing that tarp inside your room. It's time to get ready to go home.
If it can't scream then it ain't it
>>
>>4819965
>Police Detective
BORN WITH THICK SKIN
>One more go can't hurt, you've got time. These animals in Motel 6 won't notice a thing over their blaring TV's and rampant drug abuse.
>>
>>4819336
Based qm

>>4819965
>Police detective
Will give us an edge in avoiding being found

>Not your typical modus operandi, but maybe the Motel 6 has some more of "My Type".
>>
>>4819965
>Police Detective
>No, Motel 6 isn't the place to be doing this. You're not bringing that tarp inside your room. It's time to get ready to go home.
>>
>>4820842
Supporting
>>
>>4819965
>Senior Citizen Center Assistant
>>4819965
>No, Motel 6 isn't the place to be doing this. You're not bringing that tarp inside your room. It's time to get ready to go home.
>>
The thing you think you fear most is getting caught. Because then it's game over.

It's time to wrap up and get back to your house. Back to your life. And unfortunately, back to your beat as a Detective for Velton PD. They've had you switch over from homicides to sex crimes recently. You don't want to label that the catalyst for your new... behavior... but come on. It's not like changing your brand of toothpaste last month has finally kicked in and taken effect. Or... Is it the toothpaste? Either way, you're not going back to your old toothpaste.

You bet the tarp-decked brat in the trunk doesn't even respect the work that you do. Well, definitely not now, but probably not before either. She doesn't deserve any more of your time. In the back of your mind, you're already thinking about your next kill. Off to the dump site with this garbage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Detective, good of you to come in on a..." *Pretends to check watch* "Tuesday! So glad you could make it, cupcake!" and a big cheeser. That's Commissioner Seth Higgins for you. A bit of a prick, but a real company man. You like him. Maybe even admire him. It's always a pleasure to see someone dedicated to their work. He slides a manila envelope to you. Before you can open it: "Hopefully this one doesn't show up strangled and raped again a week later." He's serious now. You blush in embarrassment at hearing your boss report on your sloppy handiwork. It was messy, but you took extra EXTRA precautions on the first one to make sure you wouldn't be caught. The only reason you split early is because you didn't know her mom would come to her apartment to check on her.

You open the manila envelope to hide your shame and recognize the photos instantly. She looks better in the photos than she does now. Kind of makes you want round 2. But you killed her already!

Higgins: "Remember this file from last month? We're gonna need you to fill in."

Well you'll be a monkey's chimp-fucking uncle. Already? That's unreal. Dozens of these rape cases left on the back burner for months or years, and the fresh one you stalked and picked from the stack gets the department's "special treatment". You suppose it makes sense, it did say in her file that she was the oh-so-venerable:
>Joy Kinov - The Mayor's yappy little daughter. Ha, ha, now you're dead, bitch! She probably didn't even remember being your chemistry partner in high school.
>Ena Fuvya - Lifetime victim. It all started with her creepy uncle, then happened again to her once or twice a decade ever since. Bad judgement and a lot of people who hate her for making her accusations. True or false, you didn't know. Until now. With a backstory too sad to delve into, you THOUGHT she would just be another overlooked case file.
>Amanda Plau - Trailer trash meth-and-pill junkie-overdose victim. Seriously, why are they having me pursue this case? There are nearly a hundred other unsolved sexual assaults on file from the last two years.
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4821416
>>Ena Fuvya - Lifetime victim. It all started with her creepy uncle, then happened again to her once or twice a decade ever since. Bad judgement and a lot of people who hate her for making her accusations. True or false, you didn't know. Until now. With a backstory too sad to delve into, you THOUGHT she would just be another overlooked case file.
>>
>>4821416
>>Ena Fuvya - Lifetime victim. It all started with her creepy uncle, then happened again to her once or twice a decade ever since. Bad judgement and a lot of people who hate her for making her accusations. True or false, you didn't know. Until now. With a backstory too sad to delve into, you THOUGHT she would just be another overlooked case file.
>>
>>4821416
>Ena Fuvya - Lifetime victim. It all started with her creepy uncle, then happened again to her once or twice a decade ever since. Bad judgement and a lot of people who hate her for making her accusations. True or false, you didn't know. Until now. With a backstory too sad to delve into, you THOUGHT she would just be another overlooked case file
>>
>>4821416
>Amanda Plau - Trailer trash meth-and-pill junkie-overdose victim. Seriously, why are they having me pursue this case? There are nearly a hundred other unsolved sexual assaults on file from the last two years.
>>
>>4821416
>Ena Fuvya - Lifetime victim. It all started with her creepy uncle, then happened again to her once or twice a decade ever since. Bad judgement and a lot of people who hate her for making her accusations. True or false, you didn't know. Until now. With a backstory too sad to delve into, you THOUGHT she would just be another overlooked case file.
>>
Ena Fuvya's folder. You pretend to sound surprised when you remark aloud for Commissioner Higgins: "Wow. Seven alleged rapes over her 36 years on Earth." Higgins cocks an eye at you. "That's so... sad" Actually, it's kind of what turned you on so much. You continue the file: "Velton native. Unemployed, on health benefits. Only family left is her 70-something year old mother... Look, Higgins, not to be... Insensitive... What's the deal with this case? Something I'm not being told here, Seth?" You're genuinely puzzled how this boomeranged back to you so quickly. That fat bitch. It was easy enough to hook her in, becoming her friend on facebook, using a fake identity. Sending her your fake-item craigslist links and conditioning her to want and need more. It only took six days after initial contact. That's got to be a record, right? If only sick fucks like you kept record books.

"Heh, well. It's not a sexual assault or homicide call this time around. Yet." You gulp. Higgins finishes his words, "Look at the third page in that stack."

The paperwork is familiar. You groan, more as a show for your boss than actual grief. But there IS a foundation of some actual grief.

"You're putting me on another Missing Persons case, Higgins? Don't you remember that wild goose chase that took up half of my August? I bet this is just another cold case." You hope nudging Seth will pre-empt his begrudging satisfaction, when you come up empty-handed in the future.

"And you're not assigning-" you start but get interrupted.

"Detective Waters and Detective Black? Yep. You're going to need their expertise on MP's."

"MP's?"

"Missing Persons! Come on! See what I'm talking about? Lighten up, kid, you've been working too many homicides. Consider it... Like me throwing you a bone. How's that?"

"I'm not your doggie, though! I don't want this bone! When will you stop calling me 'kid', Seth? We've been working together for almost four years."

"When will you grow adult muscles?" Is all Seth Higgins says.

You are fit, but your body is slightly skinny, with knobby bones awkwardly protruding, especially your collarbone, cheekbones, shoulder blades, elbows, wrists and knuckles. You still give the station receptionist icy daggers every day, after you heard her chuckle and call you "Skeletor" behind your back. What she [I]thought[/i] was behind your back. Commissioner Higgins on the other hand was a collegiate athlete, both a linebacker and first-baseman. He gave up professional sports for law enforcement, even though he had two NFL teams offering to bring him on. You know because he tells you twice a month. "I would've accepted, too, but I know they just would've had me warming the bench every game. I like being here, where the action is!" But there is never any action in the break room where he tells you this over his coffee and your water-cooler water.

Before you think of a daft retort, the fat slob Jimmy Waters enters the fray, grinning and wielding his enormous gut- (CONT.)
>>
with both hands. "Hwee-hoo-hoo! Man, V-Burger has theee BEST steak fries! Maybe if you ate some, you wouldn't be such a twig, Skeletor!"

Fuuuuck thiiissss guyyyyy. "Maybe if you stopped eating them, you could see your pathetic, shriveled hog in the mirror again! Or do you eat excessively to hide that rotten pecker on purpose? You know you're the only fucker in the department that necessitates a 4XL police uniform, right?"

The Commissioner laughs heartily, and then the laughter is in stereo. Detective Don Black makes his way in behind his partner, laughing along. Waters isn't smiling anymore. As the tension settles, we get de-briefed on how we are expected to operate. You and Black are sharp, so it doesn't take long. You'll fill in the slow Waters on the way. He's so useless, fuck. And he won't stop poking and prodding you about being skinny. At least if shit hits the fan, you can use him as a giant meat shield, you reason. Or just trip him and run, heh heh.

Outside of the station's front door, by the flagpole: "How about a round of flapjacks, on me? We can discuss our plan of attack at Hilda's Bed and Breakfast," Don offers. You agree, even though you wish you could have this case to yourself. Or better yet, throw the file into an incinerator, delete all the related computer files, and get back to normal. Or just disappear. You hop in Jimmy's cluttered backseat, Black in the passenger seat. As Jimmy Waters drives, he blasts a bootleg cassette tape so loud you can't even discuss anything cogently with Don.

All you hear is The Boss. No, not Higgins. THE Boss. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPhWR4d3FJQ

Your ears ring when you get out at Hilda's. They've got the best breakfast in town, hands down, so it's a little crowded, even for our little sub-suburban town. Jimmy eats 8 sausage links, 8 bacon slices, 6 eggs and finishes your half-stack of pancakes on top of his full-stack. And four pieces of buttered-and-jellied toast. It's almost amusing watching him engorge. Maybe one day he'll burst into lard and bacon bits. You and Don discuss strategy while Jimmy clogs himself with grease and syrup.

(Choose one:)
>You will start investigating at the nexus: Miss Fuvya's house. (QM Info: You've never been there)
>Questioning the 911-dialer, her mother, could lead us on the right path. Or the wrong path. Who knows, but you've got to do something to not arouse suspicion.
>Suggest going to the source material. "Let's read up on Ena's file. Let's read it 100 times. Read it backwards. Translate it to Latin and read it again. There's something hidden there we're just not seeing." You're not really looking for anything, but maybe this can send Black and Waters on a goat rope.
>Suggest going solo/splitting up. This gives you time to act outside of the eyes of your fellow constables.
>Play along for the duration of breakfast. You didn't plan for this, you've got to skip town. Got to think of an excuse to end this breakfast.
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4821416
>Ena Fuvya - Lifetime victim. It all started with her creepy uncle, then happened again to her once or twice a decade ever since. Bad judgement and a lot of people who hate her for making her accusations. True or false, you didn't know. Until now. With a backstory too sad to delve into, you THOUGHT she would just be another overlooked case file.
>>
>>4822038
>You will start investigating at the nexus: Miss Fuvya's house. (QM Info: You've never been there)
>>
>>4822038
>Questioning the 911-dialer, her mother, could lead us on the right path. Or the wrong path. Who knows, but you've got to do something to not arouse suspicion.
We just need to seem like we're doing something that won't arouse suspicion of "hey this guy wants us to fuck off. why so?"
We also might actually get some useful information. Win win. Going to my house would be the second option in case of a tie.
>>
>>4822038
>Questioning the 911-dialer, her mother, could lead us on the right path. Or the wrong path. Who knows, but you've got to do something to not arouse suspicion.
>>
>>4822038
>>Questioning the 911-dialer, her mother, could lead us on the right path. Or the wrong path. Who knows, but you've got to do something to not arouse suspicion.
got to keep a low profile
>>
>>4822042
+1
>>
>>4822038
>>Suggest going to the source material. "Let's read up on Ena's file. Let's read it 100 times. Read it backwards. Translate it to Latin and read it again. There's something hidden there we're just not seeing." You're not really looking for anything, but maybe this can send Black and Waters on a goat rope.
>>
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The fork and knife go clink-clank, and the pig sighs in ecstasy. The meal has been vanquished. You're genuinely surprised Waters isn't licking the remnant syrup and bits of hash brown off the diner's plate. Jimmy valiantly offers to pick up both of your's and Don's $9-a-piece tabs. What a mensch. Walking back to his truck, you have to explain to him for a fourth time that you're all going to Ena Fuvya's mother's house.

Immediately after hitting the road, Detective Waters struggles to put in a new cassette in the dock. More hillbilly guitar music, but a little less obnoxious, even a bit charming and calming.

youtube.com/watch?v=W23E7lGJu54

You lay your head back and actually daydream for a bit on the way there. Well, more of a reminiscing, since you just lived out your most pressing dreams over the weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"-Tor! Hellooooo!!! Earth to Skeletor!" "Wake u-" Waters is rhythmically poking your arm, holding the door open for you in a new location. You snap awake and grab a chubby finger. You shove it back at Waters and step down from his truck. "Hey!!" he complains.

Don eyes you with worry. Or suspicion? No, he couldn't be suspecting you yet. That's crazy talk. You can't afford to slip up in this moment. All three of you shake off the spectacle and hone in on your job. Time to approach the pink door.

>If you let Waters do the talking, he's most likely to fumble it up and get zero information. Send him in.
>You will do the talking. It's best for you to control this situation. You can ask the right questions and none of the wrong ones, performing a highwire act in front of Don. Jimmy is out in left field apparently. I thought he cared about this stuff but he seems near-completely aloof. Roll 1d10 if you choose this option
>Let's watch Senior Detective Don "Sharp-As-A-Tack" Black at work. It's thrilling, titillating to see how close or far off the conspiracy theorists manage to get to the truth. Your truth. Roll 1d10 if you choose this option
>You just remember you "literally left the oven on" and have to do this later. Get Jimmy to take you home. Once they drop you off, you'll flip a coin to decide if you come back alone later or if Jimmy and Don go back without you. (Roll 1d2)
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4824624
>If you let Waters do the talking, he's most likely to fumble it up and get zero information. Send him in.
>>
>>4824624
>Offer to check out the back for "recon". Maybe we can then sneak around and alter their findings.
>>
>>4824624
>>If you let Waters do the talking, he's most likely to fumble it up and get zero information. Send him in.
>>
>>4824624
>Offer to check out the back for "recon". Maybe we can then sneak around and alter their findings.
>>
Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>4824624
>>You will do the talking. It's best for you to control this situation. You can ask the right questions and none of the wrong ones, performing a highwire act in front of Don. Jimmy is out in left field apparently. I thought he cared about this stuff but he seems near-completely aloof. Roll 1d10 if you choose this option
>>
>>4825361
>10
holy shit
>>
Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4824624
>You will do the talking. It's best for you to control this situation. You can ask the right questions and none of the wrong ones, performing a highwire act in front of Don. Jimmy is out in left field apparently. I thought he cared about this stuff but he seems near-completely aloof.
Waters is a dumbass, but do I have a bad feeling he'll get some dumb luck. Let's control how this goes
>>
Rolled 2 (1d6)

3-way tie breaker roll

>>4824664
1
>>4824677
2
>>4825031
3
>>4825048
4
>>4825361
5
>>4826151
6
>>
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Based write-in chads taking over this bitch. I'm still having problems with maintaining second-person perspective while writing, /facepalm.

Without saying a word, Don nods as you give him "the look" and glove up, letting him know you're going to check out all angles of the property while he and Jimmy tackle the front door down. Quasi-metaphorically. Jimmy's got a heavy door-knock that jostles my heart from the other side of the two story Antebellum-era house.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sBV44Gw5Pk

Mosquitoes harass you all the way. It's 1PM and they're active as hell. You forgot the bug spray in your Lincoln back at the department. Just your luck. Fuck, it's humid!! It's near-silent now, so you hear the front door creak open over the babble of mosquitoes and the small trickling river behind the Fuvya matron's dilapidated property. You gotta find something to throw this investigation off your trail, and fast.

>Search the riverbank
>Check out the back door/windows
>Rifle through the garbage heaps
>Inspect the pickup truck
>Write in - (Where do you look?)
>Double back and question/address your victim's mother. (What do you say?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While walking over to your destination to perform this action, you quaintly think of how you got to this position, sweating, desperately trying to find a way out of this.

You've been a Velton PD Detective for 4 years, and prior to that, you studied and trained for... about half a year? But really, you've wanted to be a cop ever since you were a kid. Why was that again?
>Your single father was a sergeant when he died on duty, orphaning you. You look back on those days with rose colored glasses.
>The police ride-along you went on as a part of an after-school program in 7th grade inspired you to help the people of Velton.
>You loved TV shows like Adam-12, Magnum P.I., Matlock, Adam West's Batman and Murder She Wrote!
>A twisted kid, you always imagined becoming an officer would make it easy for you to get away with crimes and abuse your power.
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4826840
>Check out the back door/windows

>The police ride-along you went on as a part of an after-school program in 7th grade inspired you to help the people of Velton.
>>
>>4826840
>Check out the back door/windows
>A twisted kid, you always imagined becoming an officer would make it easy for you to get away with crimes and abuse your power.
>>
>>4826880
seconded
>>
>>4826884
This. Sure, we might say that it's because of "we want to help" but we know the truth.
>>
Next update tonight in ~4-8 hrs. Voting is open until then, tiebreaker roll if needed, do not pass Go!, do not collect $200, etc., etc.
>>
>>4826884
+1
>>
>>4826840
>>Search the riverbank
>>You loved TV shows like Adam-12, Magnum P.I., Matlock, Adam West's Batman and Murder She Wrote!
>>
>>4826840
>Check out the back door/windows
>A twisted kid, you always imagined becoming an officer would make it easy for you to get away with crimes and abuse your power.
>>
>>4826840
>Inspect the pickup truck
>A twisted kid, you always imagined becoming an officer would make it easy for you to get away with crimes and abuse your power.
>>
Sorry guys, really tired, going to hit the sack.

When we come back, it looks like we're solidly in the realm of
>Check out the back door/windows
and
>A twisted kid [...]
territory, but by all means, continue to post and I will refresh and re-tally before writing in the morning!
>>
Another delay, had to buy and set up a new washing machine lol. My apologies. I'll try to crank out the next part on my lunch at work or if not, there will definitely be one tonight in ~12 hrs.

Just didn't want to leave you all hanging.
>>
>Mindset: Twisted

It's a soothing and serendipitous day, when you ignore the fact that you harbor the darkest, deadliest, most dangerous secret in town. You're a little excited to see how everyone in Velton will react when the Velton County Journal prints your story in black-and-white, and everyone hears of the bloody, saucy escapades performed on the town's wolf-crier.

A wave of excitement and anxiety pulses in your body and then rounds itself back down to a semblance of normality. Your fleeting goose bumps feel good against the not-too-chilly light wind.

You begin investigating near the corner of the house. You wish "filthy" would describe it, but "stinking-rotten hillbilly trash-and-opossum compound" fits so, so much better. There are moonshine jars hanging from the building as if birdfeeders or decorations, but they're dirt-caked and ancient. No wonder that bitch wouldn't stop crying, you'd cry, too, if after you were kidnapped and raped for 4 days, all you had to go back to was THIS dump... You did her a favor, as you've already assured yourself two dozen times. Yet you can't stop thinking about her. You peer in through the window. It's dim inside, and the Fuvya kitchen is also a mess. You peer and peer. "Gee, this place is a fucking sty..." You lazily mumble. "You're WELCOME, Ena. Ungrateful bi-".

Croaked: "*AHEM* *cough* *hack* *HACK* *cough* Can I help you, officer?"

You jump and almost let out a Wilhelm scream. There's a faded, old, grey man in a faded, old, grey rocking chair leaning up against a faded, old, grey house next to a giant heap of faded, old, grey trash. Mr. Fuvya? Fucking camouflaged bastard. You suppose it's a good thing he recognizes your coat, badge and hat.

>"Oh! Howdy, sir! So sorry to bother you! I'm here on behalf of one Miss Ena Fuvya..." - Politely get back to work after talking
>"You scared the dickens outta me! Say, actually, maybe you can lend me a hand... " - Interview the old man in depth
>"Official business. Please allow me to work, sir." - Just walk away from the old man and investigate something else (what?)
>"Pipe down, bag'o'bones, I'm workin' here! Don't you want to see your precious Ena again? Kek." - Ignore him and continue investigating the back of the house.
>This crazy old coot, haha. Let's fuck with him. He can be your involuntary confidante. Kneel down to the old man's rocking chair. - "Do you know what happened to Ena? No? Well I do, huehehehehe," with a noxious grin.
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4830868
>>"Oh! Howdy, sir! So sorry to bother you! I'm here on behalf of one Miss Ena Fuvya..." - Politely get back to work after talking

We can't afford to waste too much time with this guy, but ignoring him completely could make the others more suspicious.
>>
>>4830868
>"Oh! Howdy, sir! So sorry to bother you! I'm here on behalf of one Miss Ena Fuvya..." - Politely get back to work after talking
Note: keep muttering about your dark secrets to off work hours.
>>
>>4830868
>>"Oh! Howdy, sir! So sorry to bother you! I'm here on behalf of one Miss Ena Fuvya..." - Politely get back to work after talking
>>
>>4830868
>>"Oh! Howdy, sir! So sorry to bother you! I'm here on behalf of one Miss Ena Fuvya..." - Politely get back to work after talking
>>
>>4830868
>>"Oh! Howdy, sir! So sorry to bother you! I'm here on behalf of one Miss Ena Fuvya..." - Politely get back to work after talking
>>
You hate old people:
The smells.
The slowness.
The stubbornness.
The weakness.
Write in - ??? (Jk, I personally love old folk.)

They remind you that most people live well past their true expiration/"best by" date. You indulge the old fart, though, since you can't exactly tell him to bite dust on his own property while on official police business. You're sick and twisted beyond the average person's ability to cope with, and you're as eccentric as a blind basketball player on speed, but you're not retarded! You've got secrets that need to stay hidden. Even if he is just a bumblefuck senile-citizen. You don't take chances like that, if you can help it.

You learn that he is indeed Ena Fuvya's father. As you speak with him, he just babbles on and on about the stupidest shit. Over and over, you try to get him to talk about Ena, but all he can mention is how she used to be a cheerleader in high school.
You don't believe him.
That pig?
Jumping around with pompoms?
Maybe back in her heyday.
That, you would really love to see.
Heh.
Anyway, kind of creepy for her father to harp on that fact over everything else about her insignificant life. A little pervy, even, the descriptors he was using. Maybe you can pin everything on him if Ena gets found. But let's be realistic, she won't be found. Wrapped up in her carefully sealed tarp, you made sure to:
>Burn everything. Eyeballs, hair, fingerprints, teeth. Took a lot of extra time, but you were as thorough as could be.
>Dissolve her in acid and chemicals in your home bath tub. That porcelain has never been more sanitized!
>Chop her up to bits in and scatter her body in the deserted Nealy Forest for all the wolves and kai-oats (coyotes) to feast on.
>Bury her whole in your massive, country backyard.
>Expertly tie stones to her tarp, walk out on the pier, and sink her in one of the deepest parts of Wayaneem Bay.
>Covertly toss her in a large dumpster near the King Jr's Drive-Thru, just 5 minutes before witnessing the garbage truck pick her up and squish her into a compact ball of what she was, is and forever will be: garbage.
>Write in - ???

Next move:
>"Would you mind if I collect your DNA, Mr. Fuvya? You're obviously not a suspect, but it will help our case immensely to have a blood relative's DNA sample on file. Triangulating, cross-referencing, database locations..." (Lie to him and collect his saliva and hairs in your travel-kit.)
>"That [XXXXX] looks like it may harbor some clues about Ena around it. Is it okay if I have a look? You don't have to leave your rocking chair, but we can even look together if you like. [CHOOSE ONE: (River bank // Garbage heap // Pick up truck // write in - ???)]
>"Thank you for your time, sir. Velton PD is on the case, we'll do as best as we can. No! We will find her. I promise!" ;) (Join Jimmy and Don in front)
>"Tell me more about Ena's time as a cheerleader" (Fuck, you're hard as a rock. You're hanging dong.)
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4832518
>Expertly tie stones to her tarp, walk out on the pier, and sink her in one of the deepest parts of Wayaneem Bay.
We'll throw her into the ocean but before we do so, we'll smash her teeth in and tear up as much of her face as possible. Doing so will make the face unrecognizable and by the time the body is recovered, it'll be too waterlogged and messed up to identify.

>"Would you mind if I collect your DNA, Mr. Fuvya? You're obviously not a suspect, but it will help our case immensely to have a blood relative's DNA sample on file. Triangulating, cross-referencing, database locations..." (Lie to him and collect his saliva and hairs in your travel-kit.)
>>
>>4832518
>>Burn everything. Eyeballs, hair, fingerprints, teeth. Took a lot of extra time, but you were as thorough as could be.
>"Tell me more about Ena's time as a cheerleader" (Fuck, you're hard as a rock. You're hanging dong.)
>>
>Covertly toss her in a large dumpster near the King Jr's Drive-Thru, just 5 minutes before witnessing the garbage truck pick her up and squish her into a compact ball of what she was, is and forever will be: garbage.

>"Tell me more about Ena's time as a cheerleader" (Fuck, you're hard as a rock. You're hanging dong.)
>>
>>4832518
>Expertly tie stones to her tarp, walk out on the pier, and sink her in one of the deepest parts of Wayaneem Bay.
+1 to >>4832530's idea of ruining her face to make it unrecognizable.

>"Would you mind if I collect your DNA, Mr. Fuvya? You're obviously not a suspect, but it will help our case immensely to have a blood relative's DNA sample on file. Triangulating, cross-referencing, database locations..." (Lie to him and collect his saliva and hairs in your travel-kit.)
>>
>>4832518
>Burn everything. Eyeballs, hair, fingerprints, teeth. Took a lot of extra time, but you were as thorough as could be.

>"Tell me more about Ena's time as a cheerleader" (Fuck, you're hard as a rock. You're hanging dong.)
>>
>>4832518
>>Dissolve her in acid and chemicals in your home bath tub. That porcelain has never been more sanitized!
>>"Would you mind if I collect your DNA, Mr. Fuvya? You're obviously not a suspect, but it will help our case immensely to have a blood relative's DNA sample on file. Triangulating, cross-referencing, database locations..." (Lie to him and collect his saliva and hairs in your travel-kit.)
>>
File: craig6.jpg (118 KB, 800x629)
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Rolled 1 (1d2)

How flutteringly devious your minds are, Detective. A little shaken up, perhaps? Maybe stirred?

Let's flip a coin for funsies while you talk to this stammering, yammering, old, ancient coot. Maybe it'll calm you down and help you to remember how you ditched the bitch.

>Disposal?
Heads (1) - Oh yea, she's sleepin' with the stupit fishes in Wayaneem Bay, dummy! Duh! Nya-Ha-Ha! Prob'ly like a dozen other corpses. Nyahahahahaa. . . . ...
Tails (2) - You held a simple, yet tasteful and eclectic incineration. Haha flaming corpse go brrrr-hiss-POP-CRACkle...sqwueeeeeeeeeehissssssssss!

>Interrogation?
Although this is a tie as well, I suppose a swift-talking gumshoe such as yourself(/selves?) could do both in this situation. Let's grab the scumfather's spit and a strand of that wispy white cobweb on tp[ of his melon. And uh, heh, why not? Let's get some juicy info on who you just snuffed. You were beginning to think you had dug so far into the bottom of the barrel you were pulling up woodchips. But a cheerleader, huh? You've still got it! Try to hold back that excitement, Detective.

(Short intermission)
>>
File: craig7.jpg (23 KB, 459x612)
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The dark skies, the creaking of the pier as you rolled your rickety, tarp-covered "fisherman's" wagon down the wooden boardwalk, salty wind in your nostrils... You fight off a flashback of the disposal day. Ena will never see her father again, not from the depths of Wayaneem Bay. You're the man, the monster who made that happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While taking his saliva sample, eye-to-eye: "Uhm, Mr. Fuvya... Not to be rude, but in Ena's file, it said only her mother was alive? Is there any reason you aren't mentioned? Is there anyone els-" The old gentlemen coughs harshly, and you feel spittle on both sides of your ungloved hand. Great. At least you got the sample.

The voice is shaky and giddy. "I... I don't quite remember... Ena? Eeyeeeena... She really was quite the flexible cheerleader back in the day, I'll have you know! She could do the splits, the... th-the-theeee-Ena! Oh, yes, Ena! She truly was a fantastic little cheer girl, yes she was, yes she w-, wuh, w... So limber..." Crap. In his loop again. Gonna have to jolt him awake if you want to continue:

>You don't. Let's check out the babbler's wife out front and see how far Don and Jim have gotten.
>Prod Mr. Fuvya awake with a finger on the arm. "Mr Fuvya! I need answers!"
>Just speak softly. "When was the last time you saw Ena, sir?"
>Make an arrest. Bring him in to the station. Sternly and clearly say "Sir, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and disappearance of Ena Fuvya. Do not resist!"
>Sit back and observe the sputtering man.
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4839518
>Just speak softly. "When was the last time you saw Ena, sir?"
With old, DISGUSTING fucks that aren't cute prey, you gotta be soft and gentle with them.
>>
>>4839518
>>Just speak softly. "When was the last time you saw Ena, sir?"
>>
>>4839518
>>Just speak softly. "When was the last time you saw Ena, sir?"
>>
>>4839518
>>Just speak softly. "When was the last time you saw Ena, sir?"
>>
>>4839518
>>Just speak softly. "When was the last time you saw Ena, sir?"
>>
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You're about to have a fuckin' aneurysm. Is this codger stuck on a loop or what? "Excuse me? Ex-..."

Oldie: "..., flips, and twirls, with her little bosom sho-"

"Excuse me! Mr. Fuvya!! Hellooo!! Yoohoo!!!!"

"Bwah! Wha- Oh! Yes?! What?!?!?!"

"Sorry, sir. When was the last time you saw your girl?" You begin sweating, and fighting off your incessantly rising grin.

"Oooooh!! Yer wunna them sheriff boys, ain't'cha? Fergive me, I-... I don't see too well no more. Don't remember too good neither, dag nabbit... I... I reckon the last time I sawr Ena was... Was when Ma and I was takin' 'er down to her therapist or whatever mumbo jumbo in Millard Hills in the old Ford..."

A direct lead. Millard is a tiny town full of hoity-toity, rich, old folk and, during the day, their young servants. There's only one therapist in the whole Hills area. You spend a few more minutes double-checking, prodding, poking and probing for more to the story, but there simply is none. Not from him at least. It's time to meet back up with the assigned partners. You consensually pinch a handful of hairs off of the rocking chair-bound man and take your leave. "Sayonaraaaa-iiiiiI mean I'll see you later, Mr. Fuvya!"

"Just call me Fred, or Freddy. My pleasure, officer!" His long-seated reverence for authority makes itself apparent with a smile.

"Right! Well, thanks for all the (juicy) information, Fred! We'll find Ena in no time!" Heh heh heh. Could be fun checking up on that shrink later.

By the time you reach the halfway point around the house, Black + Waters have already made a beeline to you. They mean business.

What the-... Did Ena's mom know something? About Ena? About you? The leaflitter-loose footing, Southern heat and mosquitoes compound your anxiety and worries.

"Emergency call, brother, we've gotta go now. Amber alert from Jon's. We need to meet with the rest of the guys and gals from the Missing Persons Unit. We'll drop you at the station. Keep your eyes peeled for a green SUV, Georgia plates, along the way." -Don Black
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The whole ride you all talk about the little girl from the Jon's Supermarket. Strategies. Mindsets. You don't think of The Deed or even covering your own ass at this point. It's so flustering to you. What kind of scum fucks with kids? It's strange that he's from out-of-state. He's going to stick out like a sore thumb with those gaudy peach plates. You and Don discuss how you hope you get to be the lucky cop or cops that get the privilege of "apprehending" this guy. With a bullet to the brain bucket. "What? He was resisting." Never hurts to plant a knife or screwdriver.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don and Jimmy drop you off at HQ and screech downtown. You try to push the Amber alert and the Green Georgian SUV out of mind.
>>
You work the rest of the day on menial tasks, even things like cleaning your desk at the station and getting your uniforms starched and pressed. But every few minutes, your mind goes back to Ena. Not her, but what you did to her. What you left her as. What you took. What can never be returned. You're pacing and stressing out and fiending so much, you're actually working up a small sweat.

As a detective, you're expected to have a touch-and-go schedule, so with an arm crook full of freshly-printed, junk mail-stocked folders, you tell Seth you're taking you're work home for the night, like you've done many times before. He O.K.'s it and you're back in the Lincoln. Before you take off, you compulsively look in the trunk for the umpteenth time. You're rather proud how you've left the trunk stainless, but you can't stop yourself from checking it anyway. As if blood will somehow just magically appear in there one day. Hee hee. You giggle all the way home at that notion.

You love a headbanging good time in more ways than one. You crank some rock radio tunes for the solo ride home in your Lincoln. Solo, unless you count Ena's ghost trapped in my trunk.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gg1pK31X71c

Once you get home to your: (choose one)
>trailer park,
>nasty residence at the Roche Motel,
>regular, normal, typical, average, commonplace house,
>beautiful villa in Millard Hills,
you lock up, undress and fall on the bed and open up Craiglist again.

Hunting season.
>Choose one red and one blue.
Post an ad selling an imaginary Corvette
Post an ad "getting rid of" a non-existent pile of lumber.
Post an ad for a cute little golden labrador puppy.
Post a few ads in the houses/apartments section, invite the victim over to your home.
Write in - Post an ad
Respond to an ad for a yard sale, which looks to mostly have old dresses and hair products.
Respond to an ad for a pet iguana
Respond to an ad for a washer and dryer set
Respond to an Air BnB or another hotel, you don't want to bank on the Burberry Hotel, overuse it and get discovered.
Write in - Respond to an ad
>>
You work the rest of the day on menial tasks, even things like cleaning your desk at the station and getting your uniforms starched and pressed. But every few minutes, your mind goes back to Ena. Not her, but what you did to her. What you left her as. What you took. What can never be returned. You're pacing and stressing out and fiending so much, you're actually working up a small sweat.

As a detective, you're expected to have a touch-and-go schedule, so with an arm crook full of freshly-printed, junk mail-stocked folders, you tell Seth you're taking you're work home for the night, like you've done many times before. He O.K.'s it and you're back in the Lincoln. Before you take off, you compulsively look in the trunk for the umpteenth time. You're rather proud how you've left the trunk stainless, but you can't stop yourself from checking it anyway. As if blood will somehow just magically appear in there one day. Hee hee. You giggle all the way home at that notion.

You love a headbanging good time in more ways than one. You crank some rock radio tunes for the solo ride home in your Lincoln. Solo, unless you count Ena's ghost trapped in your trunk.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gg1pK31X71c

Once you get home to your: (choose one)
>trailer park,
>nasty residence at the Roche Motel,
>regular, normal, typical, average, commonplace house,
>beautiful villa in Millard Hills,
you lock up, undress and fall on the bed and open up Craiglist again.

Hunting season.
>Choose one red and one blue.
Post an ad selling an imaginary Corvette
Post an ad "getting rid of" a non-existent pile of lumber.
Post an ad for a cute little golden labrador puppy.
Post a few ads in the houses/apartments section, invite the victim over to your home.
Write in - Post an ad
Respond to an ad for a yard sale, which looks to mostly have old dresses and hair products.
Respond to an ad for a pet iguana
Respond to an ad for a washer and dryer set
Respond to an Air BnB or another hotel, you don't want to bank on the Burberry Hotel, overuse it and get discovered.
Write in - Respond to an ad
>>
>>4841541
>>regular, normal, typical, average, commonplace house,
>Post an ad "getting rid of" a non-existent pile of lumber.
>Write in - Respond to an ad
for a iphone 5
>>
>>4841541
>regular, normal, typical, average, commonplace house,

Post an ad for a cute little golden labrador puppy.
Respond to an ad for a washer and dryer set
>>
quick test

>fuck green
>fuck green
>>
Continuing in an hour! Rolling tiebreakers if needed.
>>
>>4841504
>>regular, normal, typical, average, commonplace house,
>Post an ad for a cute little golden labrador puppy.
>Respond to an ad for a washer and dryer set
>>
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Your home is just as you like it. If you were any poorer or richer, your current "you" would hate life, you just know it. You feel satisfied with the moderate struggle and induced humility of walking this tight rope between poverty and blind riches. You have a wonderful garden, an empty room that could be used for a wife or your future child or a visiting relative, but instead it's filled with brown boxes of paperwork, for now. Not a bedroom. Your office. You have a decent, cluttered two-car garage to house your prized, outdated Lincoln in. You have a wonderful, budding secret trophy case behind a panel in your closet. You keep your bedroom simple. You're still in track housing, so you have to keep the blinds closed, so the neighborhood won't see your massive erection while you phonepost onto Craigslist for another dumb cunt to _______ to death. [Choose one (1):]
>poison
>club and bludgeon
>shoot
>stab
>kick
>trick
>torture
>literally fuck
>Write in - ???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>>
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You image search a stupid puppy that you just know dumb whores will fall for, and post it with the following:

"Adorable Lab Puppy!!!! Must go, can't keep! :( Free!!"
Velton County, USA, Zip Code 55555
(picture)
I love this lil' guy, but I'm joining the marines next week and my mom is too sick to look after Bradley every day. Plays fetch, is potty-trained. Full of love. Free only to a LOVING, GOOD home.

That oughta get the gears turning quick. Most people are so dumb and unaware of the internet, with just a little finessing, you can find their true email address and identity in under a minute. That way you can screen them before you even meet them.

That's why you prefer posting rather than responding. You'll always draw a group of people, rather than trying to vet people one by one by their dumb, inarticulate posts. You can usually tell when it's a woman's email, and whether she's desperate and lonely like Ena and whats-her-face were, or a well-to-do, off-limits, high-heat type.

Regardless, some posts just scream "FUCK ME! _______ ME! DO ME! DO ME IN! FUCKING KILL ME! FUCKING KILL ME! FUCKING KILL ME! FUCK-AND-KILL ME! FUCK-AND-KILL ME! DON'T MAKE ME BEG, PLEASE! I'LL BEG IF YOU WANT!! PLEASE! PLEASE!!", and you have to answer them. Like this way-underpriced used washer and dryer set. That just screams "in-over-her-head-and-panicking" or "she can't bother to tell the difference between a two dollar bill and a twenty."

Anyway, after posting and replying, you hit the sack even though it's only 7PM. You've already finished... What you were doing while naked in bed...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake at 4AM, rested. You polish, then load and chamber your department-issued life-saver/taker. Extra magazine in your back pocket. You check your email early and often; but there's just nobody biting on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. "I'm always punctual, typically early, even. Can't let my cover get blown just 'cuz I wanna sleep in," you remark to yourself like a weirdo. as you finish brushing your teeth with your epic new Raspberry toothpaste. You're still pretty sure it's not the reason you've turned to killing. No time to dwell on that, though. Time to drive in to VPD.
>>
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Radio can be a religion if you let it. And you do.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMVjToYOjbM
"Don't have to be ashamed of the car I drive... ...I'm just glad to be here, happy to be alive! ...And it don't matter, if you're by my side... I'm satisfied..."

"...Well it's alllllllllrigghht! Even if..." You begin to sing, then just mouth, and let drift. You pull into the front of the station to your regular, but officially unassigned parking spot, and prep yourself for another day of hiding the monkey on your back. Your personal devil. Your murder-lust. Your bloodstained past, present, future.

You just do more boring chore-work and pencil pushing for most of the day at the station. You aren't called to follow up on the Fuvya case, and Waters and Black haven't been inside the department all day, as per Commissioner Higgins' own word. Still working that Amber alert, maybe. It's possible they haven't been asleep or home since I saw them speed off from the station yesterday.

You relay your side of yesterday's findings, stating that you got just about nothing from Freddy Fuvya, concealing the hairs and spit in the Lincoln as if you never drew them. Seth Higgins isn't happy, but he isn't surprised. This is just how police work goes most of the time. You feel strangely compelled to play both sides, both cop and robber. Robber of life.

It's silent all day, then at 2:56PM, Seth's office phone goes off. He answers and starts a desperate conversation, then slams the door while shouting on the phone. Within 15 minutes, Seth comes to you and gives you the skinny. A body floated up face-down in Wayaneem Bay. Your guts drop so hard and fast that you scarcely avoid crapping your pants in front of your humongous linebacker boss.

He's pensive now, biting his thumb and looking at the linoleum. "Bloated and mutilated. Probably been down there for weeks. Hrmm..."

Phew. Not yours. Some amateur's.

"Does this John or Jane Doe have a name, boss?", you ask.

"Not yet, no gender ID even, it's that bad. But it gets worse. Much fucking worse. We sent out a professional scuba diver down in Wayaneem Bay by the pier this morning and he found more bodies. We've uncovered a treasure trove of sunken corpses. Here in quiet Velton of all places. We're going to need brains and dedication like yours on this case."

Un-phew. What the fuck.

"Uhh, wow. Wow. How many bodies are we talking, boss?"

"We're sending a full team out tomorrow morning, but the diver's confirmed at least four already, and we expect that number to double or triple. Maybe more. We haven't been able to pull everyone out yet, but that's what tomorrow's for. Mayor wants the Bay dredged soon."

Seth's desk rings again. It takes two minutes. It's the coast guard. Another body washed up.

>Everyone roll 1d12!!! Be careful! Did you tie up the tarp correctly? Weigh it down with stones in the right way? Make sure no one saw you dump? Let's find out, Mr. Sloppy...
>>
Rolled 1 (1d12)

>>4842939
fear!
>>
>>4842950
You... You just had to go and do it.
You just had to roll a 1 right away. Player(s), you're fucked beyond fucked.

They've discovered Ena Fuvya's waterlogged, ugly, fat, swamp-hag-looking, decomposing body. It's an easy match, using visuals only, when compared to the Missing Persons photo set of Ena. She's way too fresh to be unrecognizable. You thought she would be shark food. You really, really, REALLY fucked up when you tarped her up. Ever heard of duct tape? Staples? Stitches? Bricks? Stones? What the fuck is wrong with your brain?! You think you can just dump a body in the Atlantic Ocean all willy-nilly and it'll be all peachy keen? What the #%&@?
Don't bother rolling anymore, unless you think you can roll an 11 or 12.
Feel free to still choose your method of execution from this post >>4842932
>>
>>4842963
well fuck! also, torture. We need to make our bodies look unrecognizable from now on BEFORE we dispose of them. Cut them to shreds, smash their heads in with a brick, cut their feet off to scam people via feet pics. Anything, really.
>>
Rolled 5 (1d12)

>>4842939
>torture

I told you fuckos to burn the body.
>>
Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>4842934
>>trick
>>
Rolled 11 (1d12)

>>4842939
Torture
>>
>>4842963
>>4843208
HA! A 11! ARE...are we not instantly fucked?
>>
[Critical failure and critical-ish success! The body was discovered, but will have no links to you. All trace amounts of your DNA on the corpse have been destroyed by the sea and you will not be linked to Ena based on her body. The hunt for a guilty party continues.]

Comm'r Higgins, clearly distracted with hands full of police work, both literally and figuratively: "Looks like your missing person isn't missing anymore, Detective. Ena just surfaced from the Bay. Obvious foul play involved, definitely not a suicide."

Panic wallops you like you were a red-headed stepchild. What if they can link the runes and symbols you carved into her back to you? Somehow match the Lincoln key to her eyeball wounds? Well... How could they? As soon as you get home, you plan on burning the notebook you write and draw in. You manage to keep it cool as a cucumber in front of the boss, somehow. You tell him it's great news, wait-no-that's-not-what-I-meant-,-not-great-news-that-she-is-dead-,-it's-great-that-she-was-found, and, looking for an escape route, tell the Commissioner that you'll go and tell Jim and Don.

Just then, over the lite, pre-sanitized office chatter, the front door swings open and crash-slams into the wall.
>>
"No need to track them down, super sleuth, looks like the boys are back in town. They were drawing a blank on the Amber alert, so we had to pull them back in for the Fuvya file. I already filled them in. I need you, Don and Jimmy to start cooking up some leads on the likely possibilities of who did this. Look harder. Talk to her social workers, check with the parents again, search their house, search Ena's house, look at receipts, talk to neighbors, look on her computer for any odd emails or weird search queries in her history. I need you to handle this without my help. Let's bring this killer, or these killers, to justice's door. I'm going to visit the parents of the little kid that got abducted at Jon's yesterday."

By the time you spin around from the finished conversation with Seth, you are greeted by the lunk and his better. Jimmy is surprisingly and uncharacteristically tight-lipped, and Don's typically stony, blank expression is nowhere to be found. His brow is furrowed with a capital F. His eyes bulge with a capital B.

You try to lighten the mood: "Hey, fellas. Comin' in hot!! Hahaha. Why so serious? Any leads on Ena's killer?"

Don grabs you and your jacket's arm, and pulls you to the side, near a ficus and a pillar that obscures the department's view of what he's doing to you to. He's whispering vehemently.

"We saw you. Come on, man, you gonna play stupid? We saw you swabbing the old fart's mouth through the kitchen window. And without being too nosy-"

Debatable.

"We took the liberty of stopping by Eileen in Evidence this morning to see what had come by. She said the only thing to come in in the last three days were some gas station-robbing tweaker's dentures, and four voluntary DNA samples from Velton's local Megan's Law creeps. Nothing from Fred Fuvya. Nothing from any Fuvya."

Jimmy and Don have a keen interest in the Fuvya case, but it doesn't seem to originate from a sense of justice. They seem... Nervous.


>"Don, you're a nice guy. A smart guy. Jimmy..." While fixing your jacket, you give the fat bastard a lookover, but can't think of any compliments, so you just awkwardly continue. "I made a mistake. Late night. I have other cases, ya know. Thanks for reminding me, I'll dump the samples after lunch. Gotta go now, I'll see you later. Peace."
>"Why are you two sweating??" Well, Jimmy is basically always sweating like a pig. Don, though? "Would you two like to step in to my office? We can have more privacy there to discuss this."
>"Don't know what you're talking about, boys. The old man just had a booger in his nose and I picked it for him." Saucy wink ;) and walk away.
>You're so perturbed that you blurt out the first decent sounding lie you can think of. "I did, I did... But I realized later that there's no need to collect DNA from an ancient hillbilly like him. I ended up throwing away the kit. W-why?"
>Write in - ???
Roll 1d10 with your choice!
>>
"No need to track them down, super sleuth, looks like the boys are back in town. They were drawing a blank on the Amber alert, so we had to pull them back in for the Fuvya file. They've already been filled in. I need you, Don and Jimmy to start cooking up some leads on the likely possibilities of who did this. Look harder. Talk to her social workers, check with the parents again, search their house, search Ena's house, look at receipts, talk to neighbors, look on her computer for any odd emails or weird search queries in her history. I need you to handle this without my help. Let's bring this killer, or these killers, to justice's door. I'm going to visit the parents of the little kid that got abducted at Jon's yesterday."

By the time you spin around from the finished conversation with Seth, you are greeted by the lunk and his better. Jimmy is surprisingly and uncharacteristically tight-lipped, and Don's typically stony, blank expression is nowhere to be found. His brow is furrowed with a capital F. His eyes bulge with a capital B.

You try to lighten the mood: "Hey, fellas. Comin' in hot!! Hahaha. Why so serious? Any leads on Ena's killer?"

Don grabs you and your jacket's arm, and pulls you to the side, near a ficus and a pillar that obscures the department's view of what he's doing to you to. He's whispering vehemently.

"We saw you. Come on, man, you gonna play stupid? We saw you swabbing the old fart's mouth through the kitchen window. And without being too nosy-"

Debatable.

"We took the liberty of stopping by Eileen in Evidence this morning to see what had come by. She said the only thing to come in in the last three days were some gas station-robbing tweaker's dentures, and four voluntary DNA samples from Velton's local Megan's Law creeps. Nothing from Fred Fuvya. Nothing from any Fuvya."

Jimmy and Don have a keen interest in the Fuvya case, but it doesn't seem to originate from a sense of justice. They seem... Nervous.

Roll 1d10 and choose one!
>"Don, you're a nice guy. A smart guy. Jimmy..." While fixing your jacket, you give the fat bastard a lookover, but can't think of any compliments, so you just awkwardly continue. "I made a mistake. Late night. I have other cases, ya know. Thanks for reminding me, I'll dump the samples after lunch. Gotta go now, I'll see you later. Peace."
>"Why are you two sweating??" Well, Jimmy is basically always sweating like a pig. Don, though? "Would you two like to step in to my office? We can have more privacy there to discuss this."
>"Don't know what you're talking about, boys. The old man just had a booger in his nose and I picked it for him." Saucy wink ;) and walk away.
>You're so perturbed that you blurt out the first decent sounding lie you can think of. "I did, I did... But I realized later that there's no need to collect DNA from an ancient hillbilly like him. I ended up throwing away the kit. W-why?"
>Write in - ???
>>
Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4843860
>"Don, you're a nice guy. A smart guy. Jimmy..." While fixing your jacket, you give the fat bastard a lookover, but can't think of any compliments, so you just awkwardly continue. "I made a mistake. Late night. I have other cases, ya know. Thanks for reminding me, I'll dump the samples after lunch. Gotta go now, I'll see you later. Peace."
Add in finger guns while sliding away.
please don't be a 1
>>
>>4843870
okay that isn't any better I really should stop rolling for this quest
>>
Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4843867
>>"Why are you two sweating??" Well, Jimmy is basically always sweating like a pig. Don, though? "Would you two like to step in to my office? We can have more privacy there to discuss this."
>>
Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4843867
>>"No need to track them down, super sleuth, looks like the boys are back
>>
>>4844481
>>"Don, you're a nice guy. A smart guy. Jimmy..." While fixing your jacket, you give the fat bastard a lookover, but can't think of any compliments, so you just awkwardly continue. "I made a mistake. Late night. I have other cases, ya know. Thanks for reminding me, I'll dump the samples after lunch. Gotta go now, I'll see you later. Peace."
>>
>>4844488
i dont know why it copy that
>>
Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>4843867
>"Why are you two sweating??" Well, Jimmy is basically always sweating like a pig. Don, though? "Would you two like to step in to my office? We can have more privacy there to discuss this."
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4843870
>>4843981
>>4844481
>>4844760
Should you give them the slip? Or indulge them? Good question.

You mentally pull out a coin, flip it and catch it on the back of your left hand. Your lift your right hand, in your imagination. You visualize heads or tails. Well, only one of them.

Will it be:
Heads? 1 - Nice guy and... Jimmy.
Decent rolls of 2 and 7.
Your intricate charade continues.
or
Tails? 2 - Sweaty boiz
Awful rolls of 2 and 3.
Bad news, Skeletor. At least it'll be in private, between the three of you detectives.
>>
File: craig13.png (4 KB, 590x290)
4 KB
4 KB .png
You invite Black and Waters to discuss this pressing matter in your office. The Lincoln.

Your desk is smack dab in the middle of the common work room with about 30 other desks. Not very fitting for a detective, but as stated earlier, you take your work home a lot and have plenty of privacy there.

Privacy.

Right now privacy is what Don is more or less demanding of you. Jimmy, his comedy-relief enforcer goon.

They won't talk to you until you're back in the parking lot of Hilda's Bed and Breakfast.

The vibes are sinister. More on this to come...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, your email inbox has been filling up. No doubt some replies on your doggy post and washer/dryer outreach.

Everyone roll 2d5!
>>
Rolled 3, 4 = 7 (2d5)

>>4844997
>>
Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d5)

>>4844997
>>
Rolled 1, 5 = 6 (2d5)

>>4844997
>>
File: Spoiler Image (30 KB, 680x383)
30 KB
30 KB .jpg
Roll 1 - 2.66
Roll 2 - 3.33
(Using averages for this specific update. Coming soon to a theater near you!)
>>
Pools of sweat are forming at these men's feet. Okay not really, but they look like they saw a ghost, they're nearly causing a scene. You've got to move this elsewhere, you decide. You firmly yank Don's hand off your coat, fix your clothing, and you exchange looks: yours that tells him not to touch you again, and his that shows poorly-contained panic and a little embarrassment. "Fellas. Would you like to step into my 'office'?," you nudge your head towards the front door, the parking lot, the Lincoln.

You all shuffle out, trying to regain your cool. It's incredibly bright outside, and the horizon-bound sun looks bigger than normal. Already, you miss the air conditioning inside the department.

The three of you pile into your car, and then you twist the ignition. You can't get the AC cranked quick enough, but relief comes as soon as mechanically possible.

Normally it's at this time that Jimmy makes fun of your old car for being outdated, but this time, only brooding silence. Lack of eye contact. Don, on the other hand, won't stop dogging you out in the rear-view.

"What's this all about, guys?" You try to probe the depths of what they know.

"Hilda's," says Don. Nothing more.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6Ggp3TJjuE

Jimmy, even in his apparent duress, still carries his hoggish habits, and cranks your radio to KCUNT on 101.3 FM. Blasts your ears for a second, before lowering it to a still-loud-but-more-tolerable volume. Don't these hillbillies ever get tired of listening to country every damn day? Sometimes you contemplate moving out of the South for this reason alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, we're here. Hilda's." You say very unenthusiastically. "Why are you so worked up about the geezer's DNA? My bad, guys, I forgot to enter it into Evidence, I was going t-"

You get interrupted. Which you hate. But this time, it changes... Everything. Drastically.

"It's, not, about, the old, FUCK, KID!!!!!" Don hyperventilates and screams. He's done containing his emotions and words, now that we're at Hilda's lot.

KCUNT plays from the bed and breakfast's outdoor speakers, obscuring our argument under the shade of an old walnut tree in the corner of the lot. The restaurant side of the business closes at 4, along with the sound system, so these guys better hurry this up before Hilda turns the music off and we stick out like a black eye.

"Ena?" You deduct out loud, Detective Black's direct eye contact less than three feet away.

"Bingo." Jimmy says before exhaling deeply and then snorting and sniveling and having other problems with his airway. You turn to him. Then to Don again.

*CLICK*
>>
Don has done the unthinkable. He's pulled his .45 on you. You think to reach for your own, but Jimmy is watching you, teary-eyed, and Don has you in the drop zone of his Springfield's iron sights already. Beads of sweat rally on your forehead. You have a bodily sensation of pins and needles. Near paralysis. You let instinct take over and two-hand grip your steering wheel and look forward at the walnut tree, as if you were driving.

Don: "Ena wasn't supposed to be found. She definitely wasn't supposed to be tarped up and thrown in Wayaneem Bay like some kind of mobster movie. And you. You said you went around back to look for clues, not to interview a witness. How did you know Freddy would be there? What did he tell you???! Did you take that DNA sample and not tell us about it because you're trying to expose or undermine us!? Were you talking to Higgins about us when we got to the station? He sure hurried off as soon as he saw us! And you looked nervous! All these coincidences..."

Don's paranoia sounds familiar. It sounds like your inner conscience, but duller. Amidst that observation, a hot clue. Don called Fred by his name, even though you never submitted any evidence. He has prior history with Freddy and the Fuvyas.

Jimmy butts in, voice cracking, "I had Ena Fuvya once... But I knew I could never have Ena Fuvya forever... Now someone else probably had Ena Fuvya! ... Now nobody will ever have Ena Fuvya!...eep!" Jimmy begins... weeping. Softly, then uncontrollably. "Bleugh. blegh.. bluh huh huhh.. BLEEEEEEEH-HYEHhyehhyeh... BLHUUUUUUUGHHH... huht... sssss uht... uht... uht....waaAAAAAAHHHH"

Don smacks Jimmy's head and shuts him up a bit. "You-!! Gah..." Don re-points his pistol at you, and thumbs off the safety. You gulp. "Look, kid... We... He fucked up, bad... If... If you... If you did... If you don't..." Then Don breaks down and puts his gun away. "Gahdammit, what am I doing?!?!?! Kid, I- I'm sorry... Forgive me... I just don't know how we- how Jimmy got us in this mess," then he stuffs his forehead in his palms.

Turns out you stepped in to someone else's steaming pile, and skidded in it.

And you got Jimmy's sloppy seconds. Ewwww!

Roll 1d12 with your choice!
>Black + Waters just gave you a mountain of dirt on them, and they don't technically have anything on you. The dolts. Don't join them. But let them go, you can leverage this for favors and silence from them in the future. This will make the murder cover-up of Ena extremely difficult to pull off alone, though, since looking for the real killer will just reveal yourself.

(CONT'D)
>>
Don does the unthinkable. He pulls his .45 on you. You think to reach for your own, but Jimmy is watching you, and Don has you in the drop zone of his Springfield's iron sights already. Beads of sweat rally on your forehead. You have a bodily sensation of pins and needles. Near paralysis. You let instinct take over and two-hand grip your steering wheel and look forward at the walnut tree, as if you were driving.

"Ena wasn't supposed to be found. She definitely wasn't supposed to be tarped up and thrown in Wayaneem Bay like some kind of mobster movie. And you. You said you went around back to look for clues, not interview a witness. Did you know Freddy would be there? What did he tell you???! Did you take that DNA sample and not tell us about it because you're trying to make us look bad!? Were you talking to Higgins about us when we got to the station? He sure hurried off as soon as he saw us! And you looked nervous! All these coincidences..."

Don's paranoia sounds familiar. It sounds like your inner conscience. Amidst that, a hot clue. Don called Fred by his name, even though you never submitted any evidence. He has prior history with Freddy and the Fuvyas.

Jimmy butts in, voice cracking, "I had Ena Fuvya once... But I knew I could never have Ena Fuvya forever... Now someone else probably had Ena Fuvya! ... Now nobody will ever have Ena Fuvya!...eep!" Jimmy begins... weeping. Softly, then uncontrollably. "Bleugh. blegh.. bluh huh huhh.. BLEEEEEEEH-HYEHhyehhyeh... BLHUUUUUUUGHHH... huht... sssss uht... uht... uht....AAAAAAHHHH"

Don smacks Jimmy's head and shuts him up a bit. "You-!! Gah..." Don re-points his pistol at you, and thumbs off the safety. You gulp. "Look, kid... We... We fucked up, bad... If... If you had someting to do with this, Then Don breaks down and puts his gun away.

Turns out you stepped in someone else's shit heap, and skidded.

And you got Jimmy's sloppy seconds. Ewwww!
>>
Roll 1d12 with your choice!
>Black + Waters just gave you a mountain of dirt on them, and they don't technically have anything on you. The dolts. Don't join them. But let them go, you can leverage this for favors and silence from them in the future. This will make the murder cover-up of Ena extremely difficult to pull off alone, though, since looking for the real killer will just reveal yourself.

>Act meek and maybe you'll inherit the world one day. "Woah. Woah. Let's calm it down. So, Ena was Jimmy's secret girlfriend, and now she's turned up dead, that's incredibly sad, I'm sorry to hear that, Jimmy. And, Don, you're just being protective of Jimmy so he doesn't get blamed for this grizzly murder. I forgive you for pointing your gun at me, but please. Know I'm on your side. Never do that again. Us boys in blue need to back each other up, not fight. Let's just find Ena's real killer and Jimmy will be off the radar, right?" Mislead them every step of the way.

>"Sounds like you guys need a cover-up. What, think this is my first rodeo? God, you guys are dumber than I thought. Come on, we're collecting and planting evidence. Now. We're going to frame some sucker." Fire up the Lincoln and search for a few hours.

>Don will pay for pointing that gun at you. Jimmy will pay for everything. In the moment, you play ball, though. But these two loose ends are on THE LIST now. Top priority. Jimmy gets pinned as Ena's killer, and Don is sure to meet a mysterious, tragic end to his 22 year career as a police officer soon.

>Write in - ???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, THAT was just about the longest in-town drive of your life. You skip the department and head straight home after you drop off your fellow detectives.

Your average, commonplace, normal house is a welcome sight at the end of the hectic work day. You turn on the boombox and sing along to some of your favorite tunes while cooking mac 'n' cheese and salmon. You even try watching television, but nothing soothes your mind. You need to check your email.

You have new emails. Excellent.
CONT'D
>>
Only 3 replies for the puppy? Don't people have hearts anymore?
(Choose one to stalk!)
>m3tH-110yhw3tt9r@velton.craigslist.org
Oh god. It's some trailer trash sounding whore from the trailer park near the Roche Motel. I bet she looks like trash, too, but probably no one will miss her. Mentioned she was previously a "transient". Fancy-sounding word for hobo-ess. Double-wrap your dick for this hoe.
>M0m+2QwEdm32kL@velton.craigslist.org
A single mother who wants a puppy for her boys to grow up with and raise each other. Pretty sweet and wholesome sounding. Kind of gives you a boner for the weirdest reason, thinking of killing this hard-working housewife who probably doesn't do much evil in her life but speed 10 miles over the limit occasionally and make fun of foreigner's accents behind their backs.
>d1tz33-1437m801j00@velton.craigslist.org
This email is incomplete and written by someone who is likely illiterate, but they have mastered tasteful Emoji use and mention they just moved into an apartment near the college in Pell Springs about an hour away from your location. Sounds like a cutie pie.

Your correspondence with Dspr8W-hg4o557pp@velton.craigslist.org, the washer/dryer lady, has gone well. You're just about to set up a date to "check out the machines". She sent you another email, but it looks incomplete. Like maybe she sent it while it was only half-written. She was about to give you her address! Which happens to be somewhere in the:
>Red light district
>Street two blocks away from yours
>Hills of Millard
>Roche Motel
>Custer Plaza Apartments
>Write in - ???
>>
Shit, I fucked up, I had a few more fixes/improvements but copy/pasted a slightly older version. For simplicity's sake, I'm just going to roll with what's here now. Voting open, next update in 12-24 hours!! Get devious
>>
Rolled 8 (1d12)

>>4845694
>Act meek and maybe you'll inherit the world one day. "Woah. Woah. Let's calm it down. So, Ena was Jimmy's secret girlfriend, and now she's turned up dead, that's incredibly sad, I'm sorry to hear that, Jimmy. And, Don, you're just being protective of Jimmy so he doesn't get blamed for this grizzly murder. I forgive you for pointing your gun at me, but please. Know I'm on your side. Never do that again. Us boys in blue need to back each other up, not fight. Let's just find Ena's real killer and Jimmy will be off the radar, right?" Mislead them every step of the way.
>d1tz33-1437m801j00@velton.craigslist.org
>Red light district
>>
Rolled 10 (1d12)

>>4845694
>>Act meek and maybe you'll inherit the world one day. "Woah. Woah. Let's calm it down. So, Ena was Jimmy's secret girlfriend, and now she's turned up dead, that's incredibly sad, I'm sorry to hear that, Jimmy. And, Don, you're just being protective of Jimmy so he doesn't get blamed for this grizzly murder. I forgive you for pointing your gun at me, but please. Know I'm on your side. Never do that again. Us boys in blue need to back each other up, not fight. Let's just find Ena's real killer and Jimmy will be off the radar, right?" Mislead them every step of the way.

>M0m+2QwEdm32kL@velton.craigslist.org

>Street two blocks away from yours
>>
>>4845734
>>4845867
no one else fucking roll
>>
>>4845694
dice+1d12
>>
>>4846943
(Dice go in the options box! Also, did you want to pick any choices with your roll? There's still time!)
>>
Rolled 3 (1d12)

>>4846976
>woah woah
>ditzy
And I guess I'll just vote for red light to tiebreak.
>>
Rolled 9 (1d12)

>>4845694
>Street two blocks away from yours
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>Act meek

>d1tz33-1437m801j00@velton.craigslist.org

and a tiebreaker:
>QM rolled a 1 - two blocks away
>QM rolled a 2 - red light district
>>
In the car, after telling your co-workers three and a half fibs:
Jimmy sobbed.
Don narrowly believed you?
You offered to scout out another location of interest, before they could say another word. They agree. The pieces are falling into place nicely.
[Which location did you visit? Choose one (1):]
>The Evidence archives at Velton Police Department.
>The supermarket Ena would always visit, Jon's.
>The river by Mr and Mrs. Fuvya's house.
>Write in - ???

The trip was innavigably tense at first, but after kicking up your engine again and passing a few stoplights, the mood thinned. Donavan apologized on they way on more than one occasion. The three of you arrive at the location of your choosing and discretely get to work. Your combined search efforts, of course, turned up virtually nothing by the end of the operation.

In secret, after dropping off the boys, you visited one (1) place in Velton County to collect/plant evidence. It was:
>Same place we were at with the boys.
>Somewhere else, QM's choice (???)
>Write in - ???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, enough of those memories.

You've had a brilliant night's sleep; your blooming brain was filled with sprouting dreams of your coming craigslist "transactions", and your belly was full of cheese, mac and fish.

Not anymore. It's 3:44AM, and staring up in your mirror from your porcelain throne, you see your cold, sunken eyes, shadowed by your protruding boniness and Neanderthal brow, and your beaming, pearly whites. You realize there's no way you're getting back to sleep with this simultaneous serenity and energy you feel. Flush! Wash! Towel!

You brush your teeth and start the day.

Entering your living room, you think about how you've had enough Fuvyas for a lifetime. Fuck Ena. Yeah, she was a desperate lay for you, and it was fun while it still lasted, but it wasn't supposed to get out of hand like this. Last time was fine. Now, Higgins needs this solved quickly. You'll be under a microscope until it's complete. But you've done plenty so far, and you'll likely have a whole day of more misdirection and subterfuge to spin around this case. Now, it's time to decide how to approach your new victims.

There's the Washing Machine lady, who you've learned lives only two blocks away from your house.
>Go for a walk/jog. Skulk around her house.
>Actually buy the washer/dryer
>She doesn't know your voice yet. Call her number. (Say what?)
>Email her again (Say what?)
>Just keep the info for now, put her on the backburner. Too close to home, too risky.

After deciding that, and experiencing all the outcomes, you double check your email, hoping this dumb broad near the college apartments in Pell Springs has responded. All you manage to get is... ?
>Everyone roll 5d3!
>>
Rolled 2, 2, 2, 1, 1 = 8 (5d3)

>The supermarket Ena would always visit, Jon's.
We'll spin the story about some cashier being in love with her and how he got jealous that his approaches didn't get anywhere.
>Somewhere else, QM's choice (???)
Surprise me, mystery man.
>>Just keep the info for now, put her on the backburner. Too close to home, too risky.
Yeah, fuck no, especially considering our sperg out earlier? We need to stay low.
>>
Rolled 1, 3, 2, 3, 2 = 11 (5d3)

>>4849367
>The supermarket Ena would always visit, Jon's.
>Somewhere else, QM's choice (???)
>Just keep the info for now, put her on the backburner. Too close to home, too risky.
>>
Rolled 1, 2, 1, 2, 2 = 8 (5d3)

[Evil QM roll to advance the story]
>>
>>4850072
(or not...)
Was halfway through a write up, in writing mode with my juices flowing, when something came up that needed my immediate attention. Pretty agitating. Now I can't delete this post because it's too old. What can ya do.

Voting/rolling still open, update in ~12 hours.
>>
>>4850072
(or not...)

Was halfway through a write up, in writing mode with my juices flowing, when something came up that needed my immediate attention. Pretty agitating. Now I can't delete this post because it's too old. And I'm off to work. What can ya do.

Voting/rolling still open, update in ~12 hours.
>>
Rolled 2, 2, 3, 2, 1 = 10 (5d3)

>>4849367
>>
>>4850273
Would you like to choose any options along with your rolls?
>>
File: craig17.png (192 KB, 434x245)
192 KB
192 KB .png
Yesterday, with you car almost packed full, you decided that Jon's Supermarket would be a good place to sleuth around, seeing as it's already a hotbed of suspicious activity, and a few more police wouldn't be too out of place with the recent Amber Alert. You thought it'd be a great place to throw the corpse scent off of your nitpicked trail.

The three of you were already in plainclothes, as you almost always wear on the job, which, to your detriment in this small town; means that people still knew who you were. There'd be no point in hiding, but you could at least play it off as the village constable shopping for their consumer goods just like every other citizen needs to do.

"Don't make it look like you're on the job," Don says in Jon's parking lot in your Lincoln. "Gotta be covert. That means sneaky, Jimmy. In fact, just stay here, we'll be back in thirty minutes or less." Waters shakes his head up and down like he acknowledges, but time would tell the truth.

When you grabbed a shopping cart and went to the produce section and started comparing apples to apples, no one batted an eye.

8 minutes later when Donavan Black, a sweater-vest-clad, everyman-looking fellow came in, slyly scouted the store and bought two pounds of hot links from the butcher on the west wing, no one cared.

Then after being told to stay back, Jimmy Waters clumsily power walked in.

You pretended not to notice him.

He waved right at you and said "Sorry, Skeletor, I need to ask Don something!"

Several people in the produce section and entrance noticed both you and Jimmy, including Jon himself, who you could see peering over from his check-out stand at the front of the medium-sized grocer.

This is what pure rage feels like.

Without tracking him down, you heard him from nearly half the store away talking to Don about what he was expected to do. You just set the few apples and cantaloupe you'd selected back down and exited the store. Could've been better, but at least you got a beat on the store and the town, and some ideas what to do later on. In hindsight, you should've purchased something to not make it look so bad, but only a few vigilant people would even be able to care about something like that.

Just the sort of people you're supposed to be watching out for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that fiasco, you decided it would be apt time to visit that shrink in Millard Hills that was trying to help Ena Fuvya.
>You visit virtually, that is. You took the day easy and researched Sunny Days Therapy online, rather than in person. All from the comfort of your home.
>You phoned in and scheduled a last minute appointment, and had an hour-long session with Dr. Lipschitz.
>You drove by near closing time and watched the closing routine of the workers there.
>>>(CONT'D IN NEXT POST)
>>
File: craig18.jpg (42 KB, 300x225)
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>You visited the shrink only metaphorically. His headspace. You posted a craigslist ad pretending to be him, asking for reviews from his clients so "he" can "put them on his website".
>You pay a vagrant $20 to vandalize the business. Maybe this'll help somehow, you 'unno. Maybe you can link this whole thing to the vagrant somehow and pin it on him. Wouldn't be hard to buy his cum, spit, blood, hair and skin flakes for cheap or free. Plant evidence to make it look like he's been obsessed with Ena Fuvya. Wouldn't be the first time a mind-rotted hobo gets pinned for a horrendous crime he didn't commit.
>Write in - ???

>>>Every action has a unique footprint/fingerprint, Detective. But no matter what you picked, roll 1d10!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flash forward to present time, 4:38AM on a Thursday. You've got a few hours to kill.

You decide the washer/dryer lady is way too close to home for comfort, so she'll wait, probably indefinitely. Unless you go friggin' nuts and can't hold it in your pants any longer. But if that's the case, you can probably find better than some old lady selling decrepit appliances.

But that's what other towns were invented for: other people to rape-snuff, with a significantly less chance of getting caught.

The girl in Pell Springs wants the puppy so badly, she gave you her address and phone number in her last email (after you told her that other people were interested in it and willing to pay money). You knew she'd be a dumb-shit. Fortunately, she also included the fact that she lives with 4 other co-eds. How they manage that in a small apartment building is... Unsettling. No doubt disgusting. Probably a lot of bickering about who's turn it is to do the dishes or take out the trash. You imagine she smells like sweet pea, lavender, vanilla and sweat.

You really couldn't help yourself. It's 5:40AM by the time you get outside her ugly, modern, prison-panopticon-like apartment complex; obnoxiously and atrociously dubbed "The Collective at Pell Springs". There's probably a slim chance a college student will even be awake before 8AM, the time you are expected to go in to work. Let alone 7:10AM, the time you'll need to leave Pell Springs to make it back to Velton in time. You...
>Could always just call out of work for a day to pursue something... sickly sweet.
>Scope out the apartment in silence.
>Use craigslist email/phone call/text message. (Say what?)
>Knock on the door. (And?)
>Drive home and take a shower. What the fuck are you thinking out here? You need to stop this. This is a young woman with her whole life ahead of you. You should visit that used up washer-dryer broad two blocks from your house instead, heh heh.
>Write in - ???

What's it going to be, Skeletor?
>>
Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4851307
I fear for my roll.
>You phoned in and scheduled a last minute appointment, and had an hour-long session with Dr. Lipschitz.
>Scope out the apartment in silence.
>>
Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4851308
>You pay a vagrant $20 to vandalize the business. Maybe this'll help somehow, you 'unno. Maybe you can link this whole thing to the vagrant somehow and pin it on him. Wouldn't be hard to buy his cum, spit, blood, hair and skin flakes for cheap or free. Plant evidence to make it look like he's been obsessed with Ena Fuvya. Wouldn't be the first time a mind-rotted hobo gets pinned for a horrendous crime he didn't commit.
>Scope out the apartment in silence.
>>
Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4851308
>You visited the shrink only metaphorically. His headspace. You posted a craigslist ad pretending to be him, asking for reviews from his clients so "he" can "put them on his website".
>Scope out the apartment in silence.
>>
Moving forward soon, tie breaker roll for spying on the shrink coming soon if no other votes
>>
>>4851802
I’ll change to
>You phoned in and scheduled a last minute appointment, and had an hour-long session with Dr. Lipschitz.
>>
writing
>>
File: craig14.jpg (43 KB, 612x403)
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On that day, you decided to visit Ena's psychotherapist at Sunny Days therapy.

You walk in instead of calling in. It's 6PM by the time you get there, and he closes at 7. His receptionist, a beautiful young Asian thang asks for your appointment confirmation number, but you inform her it's a walk-in. She seems a little surprised (they probably don't get many walk-ins), but gets Dr. Lipschitz to see you when you inform her it's "somewhat of a mental breakdown emergency and you really need to see a professional as soon as possible or tomorrow you don't know what you'll d-"

"Okay, sir, just please calm down, I'll get Dr. Lipschitz for you right away." Brenda Su is what her name-plaque on her desk says, and her fear, her near-beg for mercy, her need to escape you... Fucking erotic.

An old, severely balding but peppy, barrel-chested senior comes out and greets you. "Lipschitz. Nice to meet you, son. And your name is?"

You tell him your first name. "What can I help you with today?" he says in a genuinely concerned voice, and looks deep in your eyes with his blue irises. He takes you into a room in the back that has a desk surrounded by 3 chairs, a bookshelf, a window, a succulent and a sofa. You sit in one of the chairs by the desk.

"E-Ena..." What? Why did you say that? "Oh god..."

"What was that?" the doctor asks.

It's like someone injected you with sodium pentothal: as soon as you sunk in the pleather chair.
Your lips: "I'm... I'm here because of Ena Fuvya."
Your brain: RED ALERT, RED ALERT, WHAT THE FUUUUUCK!!!"

The doctor is troubled and puzzled by how you know that name, and your emotion paired with it. You instantly tell him you're a detective on her case, and your job is just getting to be too much to you. You didn't want to go to a shrink in Velton, and opted for Millard Hills because you figured the higher price would translate to better service and ensured confidentiality. Lipschitz understandably throws up a safety blanket and says he can't comment on any privileged information he had with Ena. You play dumb and say you didn't know Ena was a patient of his, and don't want to talk about her anyway, rather your job as a whole, you plead with him. He seems to believe your devilishly good acting.

You tripped all over your dick trying to cover up the discrepancy, blowing your identity in the process. But that's not too big a deal, at least you didn't have to lie about being a cop to an educated guy who had a decent sliver of a chance of already knowing your identity. It's not like your name has never been in the Velton County Journal for solving several homicide cases.
>>
There was one sneaky question about Ena you managed to glean enough info from to act upon. You asked Herbert Lipschitz:
>[meekly sobbing] Why do people do things like what they did to poor Ena? I'm a police officer dammit, I swore an oath. I worked homicide scenes, I've seen... I've seen... I thought I would be able to handle anything...
>[justified, unrequited anger] How do people get away with it for so long? Can you help me, doc? I need to get into the mind of the sick FUCK that did this to that poor girl... I need to catch him.
>[apathetic cry for help] -Sigh- How do I keep going, Lipschitz? There's so much evil in the world. Do I even stand a chance of finding Ena's killer? What do you think? What would you do in my position?
>Write in - ???

Lipschitz is smart, but you made him sing like a canary without him even realizing he was harmonizing with the earth-shaking, emotion-shattering hum of your sub-audible, undetectable, sex-freak, killer vibes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SeAigj3LG-s

The local Pell Springs college radio croons softly with you:
"Can I help it if I still dream time to time
It's good to be king, and have your own way
Get a feeling of peace, at the end of the day
And when your bulldog barks, and your canary sings
You're out there with winners, it's good to be king"

You sit and watch 1171 Ronaldo St. in Pell Springs.

"It's good to be king, and have your own world
It helps to make friends, it's good to meet girls
A sweet little queen, who can't run away
It's good to be king, whatever it pays"

You turn your car off to save your battery and lay low. You wait for fourty-two minutes in your car; nothing to a gritty detective-on-a-mission like yourself. Then at 6:22AM the door opens. They look about your age and build. Two young men, tall and thin. Obviously stressed about having to go to work or school so early in the morning. You just chuckle. Or maybe they were overnight visitors? If it's true this is a college house, they probably party and have guests every night.
>Trail the young men and when they get out, find a sneaky way to go up and ask them some questions (optional write in)
>Keep watching the door. You have almost 50 minutes before you need to get to work, and someone else might come out.
>Go home and prepare yourself for dealing with Ena's case today. Early bird gets the worm.
>Cover your face with your shirt, run in and steal stuff, mostly from the girl's room, then leave. Yell "Pell Panty Raiders strike again!!"
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4851986
>>[apathetic cry for help] -Sigh- How do I keep going, Lipschitz? There's so much evil in the world. Do I even stand a chance of finding Ena's killer? What do you think? What would you do in my position?
>>Keep watching the door. You have almost 50 minutes before you need to get to work, and someone else might come out.
>>
>>4851986
>>[meekly sobbing] Why do people do things like what they did to poor Ena? I'm a police officer dammit, I swore an oath. I worked homicide scenes, I've seen... I've seen... I thought I would be able to handle anything...

>Keep watching the door. You have almost 50 minutes before you need to get to work, and someone else might come out.
>>
>>4851986
>[apathetic cry for help] -Sigh- How do I keep going, Lipschitz? There's so much evil in the world. Do I even stand a chance of finding Ena's killer? What do you think? What would you do in my position?
Don't show too much emotion. It's better that way.
>Keep watching the door. You have almost 50 minutes before you need to get to work, and someone else might come out.
>>
Dr. L, towards the end of your impromptu session: "How do you keep going... That's a great question, detective. How have you been doing it up to this point? I'm sure you wouldn't be in this stressful position you're in now if you weren't such a capable, bright-minded young man. I'm sure you ask a lot of tough questions. Do they always get you answers?"

"Usually, not always."

"And those answers, are they true all the time? Correct?"

"Of course not. I'm sure you're used to being lied to in your profession as well. What are you...?"

"Hmhmhmhm," Lipschitz chuckles, "All the time. But even the lies have a purpose. An origin. A truth."

"A goal," you say.

"That's right."

-

The day you chatted with Dr. Lipschitz started off as a nightmare, but ended with you getting valuable insight into what to do in your predicament. Lies have an origin. A purpose. Deep within: a truth. You will need to create the foundations for a perfect lie. If only you could have found that advice in a 50 cent fortune cookie, rather than a 140 dollar therapy session.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present day and you're about to be late to work to craft that perfect lie. Making that perfect lie harder to pull off. Making yourself more suspicious by each tardy minute.
>>
You can afford to be a few minutes late, but it's 7:12AM, and not a soul has stirred near the door or front window of 1711 Ronaldo St.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JqnAO3xEfPA

You sigh and crank the Lincoln up. Then you crank the driver's side window down as the radio buzzes to life. "Thanks for tuning in to 92.3 KTWRP, home of Pell Spring's funkiest, nuttiest and mustiest widely-broadcasted rock and roll! I'm your host, Boogie Jay Skeeter, and I've got your medulla oblongatas for 5 full hours, hombres! So buckle in, here's some funk-nasty coming your way, pronto!" Boogie Jay Skeeter sounds like a douche to hang out with, but he's got an eclectic taste in music. Too bad this station doesn't reach out to Velton proper, so you always make a point to listen while in Pell Springs.

As you're about to pull out from the sidewalk, you see a teen kid on a bicycle coming your way, and wait for him to pass. You study him and see he's strewing newspapers about the neighborhood. He sees you watching him delivering papers and waiting for him to pass, so he throws one right in your freshly opened window. The newest Velton County Journal lands in your lap. The headline:

FAT RETARDED GIRL PUNCTURED SEVERAL TIMES, FOUND DEAD IN LAKE, FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED

...

Well, this is terrible.

The first paragraph mentioned it was probably done by an equally fat and retarded person. Weird speculation, but for some reason it pisses you off. You kind of wanted people to know exactly how your deed was done. Done by a craven nightstalker. Not a fat retard. They also speculate on several other details, and mention nothing of sexual assault, You feel as though people should know.
>>
>Ignore this. Wait no, that's not happening. That'll eat your ego alive like a black dog. You'll just vandalize the Velton County Journal building a little bit, after hours. Maybe a few basic bombs. No biggie. Feeling cute, might delete their existence later.
>Author: Jenny Jenkins. She might have went on living, but she made one fatal slip, when she tried to match the ranger with the big iron on his hip. Big iron, big iron. Let's pay her a visit, show her how fat and retarded you are. Or at least gather information on her first before you get ahead of yourself.
>Write in to the Velton County Journal, let them know what REALLY happened via cut-out magazine letters. It's a classic for a reason. And it's aesthetic as FUCK.
>Post your own bulletin about Ena Fuvya's death on craigslist. (Optional - Say what?)
>Write in - ???

Remember, detective. Footprints and fingerprints. Figuratively and literally.

Irked, you cordially wave thanks to the paper boy, who is now on the opposite side of the street flinging more rolls of paper. He winks at you and continues. Then you drive in to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your urges are intensifying. Between washer-dryer lady, Brenda Su, the ditzy college girl, and now this Jenny Jenkins (what? sometimes all you need to get off is a name and an image in your head), your dingaling feels like it's about to burst out of your trousers. Even thinking of frumpy Eileen in Evidence gets your peter pumping.

You walk in to the station at 8:08. Not really too late, but Seth is waiting for you. You panic again. It always feels like you're about to get busted for what you've done, and it doesn't help that your coworkers are the ones who will be forced to do it. You feel friendless. You are.

"Change of docket today, Skeletor."

Great, now the "commish" is calling you that as well.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you'll be sticking with me today. We're finding that kid from Jon's. And we're taking that sick fuck into custody. Today."

"You're putting me on the Amber alert with you?"

"Yep. Don't worry, your work from last month can wait. This is more pressing. Every minutes counts here. And the Fuvya case is already being handled by Don & Jimmy, so don't worry too much about that. They got an anonymous tip of suspicious activity in the hotels up and down Maple Avenue. They'll be checking out Hilda's Bed and Breakfast, the Motel 6, and The Burberry Hotel. They left about 5 minutes ago, you just missed 'em."

Big gulp. No, not the kind from the gas station.

>Not much you can do at this point but assist on the Amber alert ride-along with Seth.
>Tell Seth you should take your own car. Ditch him somewhere along the way and come up with an excuse later.
>Convince Seth you need to be with Don and Jimmy, even heading the operation. Ask for a switch.
>Write in - ???

Also: Roll 2d10! (one for each option)

Make sure to kiss/blow on the dice before casting them!
You're gonna need some luck, Skeletor.
>>
>>4853032
>Write in to the Velton County Journal, let them know what REALLY happened via cut-out magazine letters. It's a classic for a reason. And it's aesthetic as FUCK.
Be as coy and smug with the message as possible. Something something "oh it takes one to know one."
>Not much you can do at this point but assist on the Amber alert ride-along with Seth.
Stay. low.
>>
Rolled 10, 9 = 19 (2d10)

Wait, shit, dice. Don't be snake eyes, don't be snake eyes
>>
>>4853049
UH.
>>
Rolled 3, 8 = 11 (2d10)

>>4853032
>>Write in to the Velton County Journal, let them know what REALLY happened via cut-out magazine letters. It's a classic for a reason. And it's aesthetic as FUCK.
>>Not much you can do at this point but assist on the Amber alert ride-along with Seth.
>>
Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d10)

>>4853032
>Author: Jenny Jenkins. She might have went on living, but she made one fatal slip, when she tried to match the ranger with the big iron on his hip. Big iron, big iron. Let's pay her a visit, show her how fat and retarded you are. Or at least gather information on her first before you get ahead of yourself.
>Not much you can do at this point but assist on the Amber alert ride-along with Seth.
>>
Locked, continuing
>>
>Roll 2d10!
(What they will be used for is explained below)

It's not good that you got assigned away from the Fuvya case today. But you can't just ignore your boss. Or your sense of justice, perverted and fleeting as it may be.

"Oh. Righty-o, Cap'n. Let's go." You jokingly raise your hand to your forehead and salute Higgins.

"Heh-heh, righty-o cap'n? What are you, some kind of queer, skeleton pirate? Am I in Pirates of the Caribbean 2 right now?" Higgins laughs. "C'mon, pile in my cruiser after you get your coffee and donut. I'll be waiting."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a grueling 9 hours of being staked outside of the abductee's parents' condo in the poorer-but-still-nice area of Millard, Seth gets a call from a State Highway Patrol. They had the perp's SUV dead to rights, Georgia Peach plates and all. But the perp gave the highway patrolman the slip somehow. It's estimated that he's within 5 miles of our radius, headed straight towards us.

Seth Higgins turns his Crown Vic on, says we need to intercept his vehicle before he gets away again. Says he's probably spooked and gonna split.

You tell him the best place to intercept him is your current location. You have a hunch he's coming right towards you.

Seth trusts your instincts. After all, you are one of the best detectives in the station by case completion alone. That doesn't happen without a powerful intuition.

You continue to wait. The sun is setting and the sky is a hard orange. Less than 20 minutes go by. A green SUV barrels down the street to the condominium, screeching, then thudding as it jacks over the curb and onto the small lawn in front of the home.

"Go time."
>>
You pull your snub-nose Colt Detective Special from your appendix and bolt out the door in a one-handed shooter's stance, badge outstretched in the other hand.

Seth isn't far behind you with his 1911, doors slamming in the cadence of a flam. Power walking with gun and badge.

In near unison: "FREEZE (SCUMBAG!), VELTON PEE-DEE, PUT YOUR (FUCKING) HANDS UP!(!!)"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When searched and cuffed, the only thing our perp had on him was his keys, wallet, and a flimsy, dollar-store box cutter, unused. And little bruised Suzy Q, bound and gagged in the back of the SUV. Her cries and gasps for breath almost made you cry. It was one of those times you forget all about the darkness that dwells within, you even forget about redemption and other semantic convolutions. You return to a primal nature, one filled with blind rage. Rage blind like a bat or a Tibetan monk, whose other senses have sharpened in response to their world's dullness.

You stayed on scene for nearly two hours. You've been awake for two thirds of the day and you still have paperwork to do as soon as you get back to the station. And with the Fuvya case open, you'll probably be asked to come in at least one day this weekend to do some mandatory overtime. You anguish over this predicament you've got yourself into. You just want to unwind and have some fun.

You turn around and bump into some geek holding a boom mic, and see a fatter geek holding a camcorder. Then, a bright flashlight turns on and is pointed at your corneas.

Blindsided, you are greeted by a film/news crew. The reporter woman says: "Hi, I'm Jenny Jenkins with the Velton County Journal, we heard that you just recently solved the Amber alert case from Jon's!"
>>
How does news travel so fast? We've either got inside loose lips at the department, or Suzy Q's parents couldn't keep their mouths shut for two hours. Maybe her neighbors? We did cause a bit of a scene.

...Anyways, you gotta respond to this media blitz: [Choose one (1)]
>Address the interviewer: "We're still assessing the situation, I'd like to hold my comments. Thank you, Jenny."
>Address the camera: "A Georgia man came to our county and violated our laws, and America's laws, and harmed who knows how many of our most precious citizens. I will personally see to it that justice is meted out to this man."
>Address Seth Higgins: "Seth, come over here, reporters from the Velton County Journal are here!"
>Refuse to speak. Just wave, smile and leave.
>Write in - ???
(one of your rolls goes to this)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you get home from the department, you shower silently in darkness. At the department, you heard Jimmy talking to Eileen about some big find in the Fuvya case, but he left as you were entering, and you didn't want to chase him down and avoid the paperwork on your stellar catch of this child abductor, just to chop it up with dumb ol' Jimmy. It would look too weird. Everyone knows you're not pals, and that when it comes to investigations, he's about as helpful as a shoelace on a sandal. It would look okay if it was Don, but it wasn't. Shucks. No, not shucks. Drats! Damn! Fuck! You're in the dark about the Fuvya case for now. They could've discovered anything at Motel 6 and The Burberry. Like guest lists.

You draft a letter to send to Velton County Journal, but you realize you can't just send it in with your handwriting. And you definitely don't want to write this note in your computer or phone. Think, detective, think... A-ha! A blast from the past. You'll wear latex gloves and cut out magazines and glue them to a piece of paper. Tell the real story of the "Fat Retarded Girl Punctured Several Times". You only have a few National Geographics from the 80's and some copies of the Journal in your bachelor pad. You drive to a gas station and buy $30 worth of magazines, along with some soda pop, Marlboros and Pringles.

The gas station clerk talked to you for minutes that seemed like hours about your stupid magazines. One of the other patrons of the gas station overheard half of your conversation. Worse than that, when you get home, even though it's late, almost 10PM, your neighbor, Carolina Smith, is getting out of her mini van as you are getting out of your Lincoln. She notices you holding a stack of shiny gloss magazines, and briefly says hello and comments on them. Well, shit. Eh, who cares, it's not illegal or suspicious to own magazines.
>>
You sit at your kitchen table and decide to flip through one of the magazines you bought, before drafting your note. You chose to read [Pick one (1):]
>Hogs Today - A rough 'n' rugged 'n' out-of-touch motorcycle magazine for DUDES!
>Hannibal's Kitchen - Teaches you how to cook liver with some fava beans, and tells you to pair it with a nice Chianti.
>Sports Larcenated - Annual swimsuit and jockstrap edition.
>Pozmocolitan - Women's relationship advice written by spiritually empty and perpetually lonely-on-the-inside millenials.
>Write in - ???

Huh. Interesting.

Anyway, she really wasn't as bad of a lay as the paper is making her out to be. You didn't want to play the role of reminiscer, but it seems like the town just won't let this one girl slip through the cracks. Shame. But soon you'll push her out of your mind and find more meat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion level: 1.8
(Avg. of rolls must be above this number, or you will become a suspect!)
(one of your rolls will be go to this)

Coming up:
-Choosing your next victim
-Aftermath of catching the Amber alert perp
-Velton County Journal's reaction to your cut-out letter
-Working with Jimmy/Don on the Ena Fuvya case
and more!
>>
Rolled 6, 7 = 13 (2d10)

>>4854025
>Address the interviewer: "We're still assessing the situation, I'd like to hold my comments. Thank you, Jenny."
>>4854027
>Sports Larcenated - Annual swimsuit and jockstrap edition.
>>
>one of your rolls will be go to this
Just when I think I've triple-checked everything before posting...
>>
Rolled 8, 7 = 15 (2d10)

>>4854027
>>Address Seth Higgins: "Seth, come over here, reporters from the Velton County Journal are here!"
>Sports Larcenated - Annual swimsuit and jockstrap edition.
>>
>>4854025
>>Address the interviewer: "We're still assessing the situation, I'd like to hold my comments. Thank you, Jenny."
>>
Rolled 9, 8 = 17 (2d10)

>>4854025
>>4854025
>>Address the interviewer: "We're still assessing the situation, I'd like to hold my comments. Thank you, Jenny."

>>4854027
>Meme Quarterly - For all your dreams and memes.
>>
While sitting at the table, scissors in hand, ready to clip; you can't help but notice the jugs and bulges on the Sports Larcenated cover. Who could ignore all that exposed titty meat and tightly packaged dong? Killing can wait. For now, you must turn to p.32 to find out Allyson Bordeaux's favorite flavor of ice cream on a hot summer day. Why you need to know this about a Canadian volleyball player? For science.

One of her teammates kind of looks like Brenda Su from Sunny Days Therapy. And the Nicaraguan Olympic Female Swim Team's foxy captain on p.44 looks just like your neighbor Carolina. One of the female NASCAR drivers on the back cover remind you of a boxier, manlier looking version of Jenny Jenkins. Jenny.

You remember how you gave Jenkins the slip with your standard police procedure, and once again thank that you're on the inside of the panopticon, with a different set of rules and expectations. Becoming a detective was the smartest thing you could have done. Now all the jerks from Velton High that used to mock and shun you for your skeleton-like bone assembly and your:
>Asthma inhaler
>Lisp that you don't have anymore after years of speech therapy
>Dead parent(s)
>Fascination with weird stuff (optional write-in)
>Inability to score with a chick
>Write in - ???
will have to respect your authority. It's not like you could really change those things anyways. Those jerks.

You'll show them with this magazine clipping consortium. You break out the Elmer's and find some inconspicuous paper to glue your magazine clippings to.

Hour and a half later, you make a covert journey to the Journal and tape the message to the door. No one should've seen you or recognized you in your disguise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up and head to:
>Hilda's Bed and Breakfast
>Jon's Supermarket
>VPD HQ
>Write in - ???
and grab a copy of the Journal to see if they responded.
>>
Surprisingly, the newspaper was fast enough to put your message to ink.

Their headline was:
>GRUESOME RAPIST TELLS ALL! COUNTDOWN TO HIS NEXT KILL - 3 DAYS!
A local official of some sort of someone who has access to behind the scenes connections and information, has dared authorities to capture him, leading them on some sor...
>SICKENING LETTER RECEIVED AT VELTON COUNTY JOURNAL REPORTER'S DESK!
Citizens of Velton County, we are truly disturbed to announce that an employee of the Journal has received a letter from a man purporting to be the killer of the woman found in the lake, detailing things which are not fit to print, which means we mus...
>ANONYMOUS TIPLINE! SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING!
[Apparently your mild letter got published with a few other anonymous tips about a corpse in the lake. They mention nothing of your odd method of "writing".]
>EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!
Write in - ???

Fortunately our message of terror and fear is spreading, but the story ends with mentioning that the anonymous tip(s) had trace amounts of DNA on it that will be examined further. Let's hope it's not yours, detective.

Amusingly enough, the second headline is about the heroics of the VPD, who saved Suzy Q and took a child abductor into custody. Third and fourth are about the mayor's upcoming (most likely re-)election and a story about a senior citizen who has gone into remission and is tumor-free. Looks like they're more concerned with bad news than good news at the Journal. If it bleeds, it sneeds leads.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spend the day "working with" Jimmy and Don.
>Roll 2d10! (One goes to suspicion roll)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's almost the weekend. You start to consider who your next victim will be throughout the day. You think your favorite is:
>Washer-Dryer
>Sunny Days Laundry
>Next door MILF
>Newspaper gal
>College girl
>Eileen from work
>Mrs. Fuvya
>Other?
>You're not ready yet. Need to do more research.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion roll: 2.25
>>
>>4857107
>Fascination with weird stuff (optional write-in)
WE MUST FEED THE QUEEN IN THE SHATTERED MIRROR AND THE RADIO THAT SCREECHES TRUTH FROM THE OTHER SIDE. THE INFINITE KEEPS SCREAMING AT US TO GET MORE FRESH VIRGIN MEAT TO REACH A HIGHER FOLD OF UNDERSTANDIN- i mean we liked occult stuff.

>Hilda's Bed and Breakfast
Tasty.
>>
Rolled 7, 3 = 10 (2d10)

Oh shit there was more.
>SICKENING LETTER RECEIVED AT VELTON COUNTY JOURNAL REPORTER'S DESK!
Ay.
>College girl
Not too old but not too young. Good enough.
>>
A few embarrassing grammar/word choice errors but I think you guys get it (and I gotta run to work) (and 72WphtRW is quick lol)
>>
>>4857122
I am always here, fucker. YOU CAN'T RUN. YOU CAN'T HIDE. AND MOST OF ALL YOU CAN'T SNEED
>>
>>4857107
>>Fascination with weird stuff (optional write-in)
FIRE

>Hilda's Bed and Breakfast

>SICKENING LETTER RECEIVED AT VELTON COUNTY JOURNAL REPORTER'S DESK!

>College girl
>>
Rolled 8, 10 = 18 (2d10)

>>4857107
>>Dead parent(s)
>>ANONYMOUS TIPLINE! SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING!
>>You're not ready yet. Need to do more research.
>>
>>4857244
>>VPD HQ
fuck forgot to put this down
>>
Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d10)

>>4857176
>>
Rolled 2, 8 = 10 (2d10)

>>4857107
>Write in - ???
Habsburg jaw. It was finally fixed after several surgeries.

>Hilda's Bed and Breakfast

>>4857111
>SICKENING LETTER RECEIVED AT VELTON COUNTY JOURNAL REPORTER'S DESK!

>Next door MILF
>>
File: craig15.png (652 KB, 1050x754)
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You traipse into Hilda's B&B and order an orange juice, a cream cheese bagel and a fresh copy of the Journal. Soon, you're at a table in the corner of the store with the Journal in your nose.

You decided to switch up your typical writing style to throw the scent off even further. You're proud the Journal typed a thoughtful (if prude) review, and made it the headline of the Friday paper. Sort of a trophy. But you decide to keep this trophy only mentally, for now. Also, they really should start publishing in color. Maybe you'll tell 'em that, next time you run into one of 'em or need to send in another letter.

Your fourteenth read of Jenny's write-up is interrupted by a pudgy finger and a familiar guttural giggle. "Nyeh heh heh heh heh, hey Skeletor! Fancy meeting you here!" It's Jimmy Waters, here to fuck up your shit again, alone this time. Munching on a frosty bear claw.

Before you can say something daft, the bear-claw-assisted verbal diarrhea resumes: "Nya-ha! Ny-any luck finding Eeeena?" Despite the full mouth, he speaks loud enough for half the restaurant to hear, but you scan the room and no one looked over at you two. Maybe you can tone down the paranoia a bit.

"Jimmy, have a seat. We need to talk about Ena."

The room feels it's packed with dynamite. The floor is dynamite. The walls are dynamite. The forks and spoons are TNT. And a matchbox just spilled and scattered right onto your lap.

Without Donavan Black, Jimmy Waters is malleable as Play-Doh, and just about as intelligent and foul-smelling, too. Just gotta spin something convincing. Something smart enough that even when you play Telephone and Jimmy inevitably fumbles up some of it, it'll still make sense.
>"I'm glad I ran into you today, Jimmy... How good of a friend is Don to you? Let me rephrase that, how good of a friend do you THINK Don is to you? Because I've got some upsetting news... Don is scared. He told me he's ready to turn you over to Chief for fooling around with Ena. Pin the whole thing on you. Now why would he do that?"
>"This has gotten way out of hand, Jimmy." [look around, lean in] "We gotta skip town! Whoever killed Ena doesn't like the fact that we're after him. He's dropped pictures off at my house. On my desk. Inside my car. Pictures of me, of you. My home, Don's home, our cars outside the department. You in the V-Burger drive-thru. We're under surveillance. He sent me a note and told me if we're not gone by next Friday, we'll be sleeping with the fishes Ena slept with."
>"Ena had some fat fucking tits, bro. What was it like banging that broad? Actually, I don't have to ask, if you catch my drift." (Jimmy is surprised for a few seconds, then angry, then next to bawling his eyes out.) "We fucking need to fucking get rid of fucking Donny, Jimmy. He's fucking on to us!!!!"
>Jimmy is just too dumb to trust. "Nevermind, let's wait until we meet up with Don later today."
>Write in - ???

After this, you remember Jimmy discussing a "big find" in the [CONT]
>>
>Roll 5D10!

Fuvya case with the sleepy Eileen. You ask him what the find was was. Jimmy tells you:
(one roll goes to this, and the mode will be used. results:)
1-2: "I... Shouldn't be talking to you about this... An' I don't believe 'em... But... But..." (tears up) "D-DID YOU KILL MY GIRLFRIEND?!?!" (The B&B goes silent.) You narrowly calm down, tell him off and storm out.
3-5: "We found some sketchy evidence at the Blueberry (Burberry) Hotel and Motel 6. The data is gettin' crunched up by Donny now!"
6-8: "We found some evidence [that does not relate to you in any way]! Pretty neat, huh?"
9-10: "We found the killer! It's [redacted]!!" (not you)

No matter what happened, you've still gotta ride with him and Don all of today, or Seth and Don will know something's up with you and will grow more suspicious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mood in Don Black's white Cadillac is tense, but you don't mind because your mood is always tense. Except when you're killing, and get to relax and have some fun. But no, it's just tense. Don is deep in thought and hasn't said a word to you the whole day except for returning your "Hello" and telling you to pile in his 'lac. You roll the passenger window down and suggest something to your silent partners. You will:
>Buy V-Burgers, V-Taters and V-Shakes for everyone while you discuss the case in a discreet location.
>Find someone to pin this on (optional: Who?) (optinal: Where?)
>Ambush Don and/or Jimmy. (How?)
>Search Ena's place of living.
>Write in - ???
(One roll goes to this)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since Ena's killer hasn't turned up yet, Higgins is making you come in on to work on Saturday. Guess that dumb broad in Pell Springs will have to wait. Hopefully Pell University doesn't wise her up too much in the meantime. Hahaha!!!! Good one. At least you have some freedom on Saturdays, since that's Seth's day to coach ice hockey and little league tee-ball. It shouldn't take you long to spin more misdirection around this case, like a spider spinning web around a paralyzed cricket. People blame the spider for being sneaky, no one ever blames the cricket for being careless in a world full of spiders. You decide to:
>Visit the evidence room while Eileen is on lunch.
>Pay a little visit to the holding cell with the scumbag who abducted Suzy Q
>Stop by the Burberry Hotel and talk to the old owner-operator
>Backtrack to Mr. and Mrs. Fuvya's house.
(one roll goes to this!)

After you finish that little devious project, you decide to say "screw work" and go spend the Saturday in town, you:
>Get BBQ
>Shop at Jon's
>Sign up for another Therapy session at Sunny Days
>Cruise the interstate in your Lincoln
>Spend the day spying on your next door neighbor, Carolina
>Write in - ???
(one roll goes to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion roll: 2.76
(3.76 if Jimmy accused you at Hilda's
>>
Rolled 2, 6, 5, 5, 3 = 21 (5d10)

>>4858673
>>4858674
>>"I'm glad I ran into you today, Jimmy... How good of a friend is Don to you? Let me rephrase that, how good of a friend do you THINK Don is to you? Because I've got some upsetting news... Don is scared. He told me he's ready to turn you over to Chief for fooling around with Ena. Pin the whole thing on you. Now why would he do that?"
>>Visit the evidence room while Eileen is on lunch.
>>Spend the day spying on your next door neighbor, Carolina
>>
>>4858723
One more choice under
"The mood in Don Black's white Cadillac is tense"
If you want to make it!
>>
Rolled 8, 8, 9, 9, 7 = 41 (5d10)

>"I'm glad I ran into you today, Jimmy... How good of a friend is Don to you? Let me rephrase that, how good of a friend do you THINK Don is to you? Because I've got some upsetting news... Don is scared. He told me he's ready to turn you over to Chief for fooling around with Ena. Pin the whole thing on you. Now why would he do that?"
>Buy V-Burgers, V-Taters and V-Shakes for everyone while you discuss the case in a discreet location.
>Pay a little visit to the holding cell with the scumbag who abducted Suzy Q
>Get BBQ
>>
>>4858723
>>4858882
High roller wants to visit V-Burger on Friday with the boyz, then the local BBQ spot by himself the next day? Hot damn!

Then again, watching Carolina do her routine Saturday laundry with her garage door open from your tiny bathroom window does sound... intoxicating.

And I think you may have saved yourself from being exposed at Hilda's, and attracting the whole department's attention to you, but time will tell.

Only dastardly time will tell...
>>
Rolled 2, 8, 6, 1, 8 = 25 (5d10)

>>4858674
>"I'm glad I ran into you today, Jimmy... How good of a friend is Don to you? Let me rephrase that, how good of a friend do you THINK Don is to you? Because I've got some upsetting news... Don is scared. He told me he's ready to turn you over to Chief for fooling around with Ena. Pin the whole thing on you. Now why would he do that?"

>Buy V-Burgers, V-Taters and V-Shakes for everyone while you discuss the case in a discreet location.

>Visit the evidence room while Eileen is on lunch.

>Spend the day spying on your next door neighbor, Carolina
>>
Rolled 8, 6, 3, 3, 10 = 30 (5d10)

>>4858674
>Jimmy is just too dumb to trust. "Nevermind, let's wait until we meet up with Don later today."

>Buy V-Burgers, V-Taters and V-Shakes for everyone while you discuss the case in a discreet location.

>Visit the evidence room while Eileen is on lunch.

>Spend the day spying on your next door neighbor, Carolina
>>
>Roll 5d10!!
Roll 5d10!!
Roll 5d10!!

You created a magnificent fib and told Jimmy all about Don's nefarious plot to turn him in. You mostly projected your own feelings onto Don, but Jimmy was terrified. Hook, line and sinker. Your only next challenge was to keep his blubbering down from the crowd at Hilda's.

You console Detective Waters and tell him you will help him deal with Don. You feel a trust bond growing. You and Jimmy agree to give Don (you may choose more than one):
>The cold shoulder. You two won't talk to that sumbitch.
>A one way trip to the morgue. Dead men tell no tales.
>Another chance. You two will be on the lookout for any other "traitorous behavior" from Black.
>The benefit of the doubt. You two won't change how you interact with him. In fact, maybe he just needs a friend.
>Blow for blow. "Let's dig up some dirt and frame Don before he can frame you, Jimmy!"
>Write in - ???

You discuss it at length inside Jimmy's truck, before heading home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have a few hours before reporting into work, which you spend cleaning your suburban house and paying your bills. It's boring, but at least you'll be good for the rest of the month. You run out of stamps.

As you prepare to leave, you call Jim and Don, and tell them to be outside of the station, you'll pick them up and take them for lunch before getting to work on the case.

"Oh boy!" Jimmy shrills when told he will be getting V-Burger after god-knows-what he had at Hilda's earlier. The goons pile in your Lincoln, shuttle to the drive-thru, and you order 3 V-Meals. Even old-school Don is a little giddy to be getting a free meal.

You take them to an inconspicuous place to speak:
>Millard Marine Research Institute and Aquarium
>The busy and loud fountain park near Pell University
>Ena's dump site, Dunkin Lake
>Interstate rest stop
>Write in - ??? (all previous locations or any you can think of)
(one roll goes to this)

You play your aux cord in the Lincoln's upgraded tape deck on the way.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIjERVbe95M

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>>
File: craig16.png (2015 KB, 1326x546)
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It's not too stressful of a day, you're getting more accommodated to the intricacies of being yourself. You get back to VPD to drop off the boys, and Seth is waiting by the station door. When he sees your car, he walks up and motions for you to park. He greets and dismisses Jimmy and Don, and asks you to come to his office for a minute.
(one roll goes to this)

Shortly after, you're headed home and headed to bed early.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimmy mentioned evidence turned up in the Fuvya case that relates to someone else. That's great news. It seems this case is nearly wrapped up. This oughta throw off anyone who may be suspicious of you.

On your Saturday, you head in to work. Right as Eileen informs us she's taking off for lunch. Cha-ching. There is only a short staff working today, and no one to notice you slipping inside the evidence room. You find the piece everyone has been talking about. It's pretty impressive.

What else did we find in there?
>Human remains
>The Millard Masher's meat hammer
>A really cool pair of binoculars
>A redneck's confiscated gun
>Write in - ???

(two rolls go to this)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spying on Carolina goes poorly, to say the least. Well, it started out GREAT. You start as you have many times before: She takes her laundry basket out her front door around 4PM when her favorite telenovelas are over. But this time, you take it a little further. You leave the comfort of your 98% drawn shades. You find out several new things about her, like the security camera near her garage, her laundry detergent which can only be found at one store in the county, and the fact she fights with her husband often. The bad part: They notice you standing in a puddle around your feet, watering flooded grass, listening in to them arguing about their kid's school attendance. Uh oh. You are red in the face as you excuse yourself. You come out two minutes later to turn the hose off. Your lawn may get ruined.

You decide to:
>Continue spying, but more secretly. Go knock on her door and apologize tomorrow with a really good lie.
>Dedicate tonight and tomorrow to making her (and maybe her husband?) the next victims.
>Nip it in the bud. Carolina will just be sour grapes.
>Write in - ???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion roll: 2.26
>>
Rolled 5, 5, 10, 8, 9 = 37 (5d10)

>>4860496
>>4860498
>A one way trip to the morgue. Dead men tell no tales.
Ey. We're a murderer at heart. We can't get any pussy from this kill but, eh, worth it.
>Millard Marine Research Institute and Aquarium
Sounds like a neat place to enjoy a meal.
>A redneck's confiscated gun
Gun.jpeg.mp4.exe.wav.png.zip
>Continue spying, but more secretly. Go knock on her door and apologize tomorrow with a really good lie.
We got caught, might as well try getting ourselves out of it without being a massive sperg about it.
>>
Rolled 10, 2, 5, 8, 10 = 35 (5d10)

>>4860498
>Blow for blow. "Let's dig up some dirt and frame Don before he can frame you, Jimmy!"
>The busy and loud fountain park near Pell University
>A really cool pair of binoculars
>Write in - ???
Why aren’t we stalking the dumb college girl? I thought she is our next target.
>>
>>4860527
She is, she'll have your undivided attention on Sunday. Carolina is just extracurricular, you're free to ditch her.
>>
Rolled 10, 4, 2, 9, 1 = 26 (5d10)

>>4860496
>>Blow for blow. "Let's dig up some dirt and frame Don before he can frame you, Jimmy!"
>>Interstate rest stop
>>Write in - ???
an ww2 era m1911
>>Continue spying, but more secretly. Go knock on her door and apologize tomorrow with a really good lie.
>>
Rolled 2, 8, 5, 4, 7 = 26 (5d10)

>>4860498
>Blow for blow. "Let's dig up some dirt and frame Don before he can frame you, Jimmy!"
>Millard Marine Research Institute and Aquarium
>A really cool pair of binoculars
>Continue spying, but more secretly. Go knock on her door and apologize tomorrow with a really good lie.
>>
File: craig21.jpg (233 KB, 1023x838)
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>Rolld3d10!

You have Jimmy convinced that you will help him make a plan to set up Don.

Jimmy was silent almost all day in Don's presence, other than when you were eating at the aquarium.

You got there just in time to eat with the sharks. As you were chomping down your V-food, the tigers and hammerheads were vacuuming up bloody, bloody chum. Tingles rip and sizzle through your body. You ordered your burger medium.

Don breaks the ice after a slurp. "So we got that ski mask with sweat and saliva all over it, wedged on the side of Ena's bed. I think we all have the Blue Bond around here, right? This is our guy. We don't need to go around the entire State to sniffin' fer a ghost we'll never find anyway." Then Don looks you and Jimmy in the eyes for a prolonged second each, then looks back towards the caged apex predators, being hand-fed their gruel.

You look at Jimmy for your next move, and find no cause for alarm. You chime in for incredibly important brownie points with Don: "Nothing we could've done anyway. A body in a lake? Whoever this ski mask guy was, he was probably a sick, sick fuck anyway. Maybe he was the guy who threw her in the lake? Anyway, we'll put him on trial and he'll break one way or another. It'll be a victory for all of us. For the department. For Velton, right?"

"Huh huh, yeah!"
-Jimmy.
>>
It's not your ski mask. It's apparently not Jimmy's mask either, since he agrees to pin it on whoever's DNA it matches. Don seems genuinely content with this outcome. And you maintained low voices and long distances away from others the entire trip. Hurray! A truly secretive rendezvous.

Right before leaving, when Don goes to the restroom, you tell Jimmy to go back to acting normal with Don, but to try not to ignore the "fact" that Don was going to frame him. You tell him to keep his eye out for suspicious activity from Don, but to keep a low profile!
(one roll goes to this)

After dropping the boys off, Seth just reminds you to come in tomorrow, whether or not you have the case done. "You're already scheduled the overtime, so just keep it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three of you detectives seem content to "solve" this case once and for all. Now you can move on to the last folders in your stack. You don't know what Jimmy and Don will move on to, but you're glad to be nearing the end of your temporary partnership, and going back to working in solitude. Hopefully.

You've been neglecting this other, less interesting sex crime work. You wish you were back on homicides. You've barely looked at the case files, to be honest. You tackle [Choose one (1)]:
>>>A serial groper at Jon's strikes again!
Pfft, like 3 months ago. Higgins wants this guy caught, though, says it'll make the VPD look like heroes again.
>>>Hazing has gotten out of hand on the varsity water polo team at P.U.!
Not a bad "in" to spy on the Pell slut. Might be harder to cover your tracks if you fumble up in any way.
>>>I think someone #*%@ed my goat!
It's tedious, but never dull to mingle with the hill-folk.
>>>Write in - ???
?????
>>
File: craig22.jpg (6 KB, 292x173)
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You work for a few hours, then say: "fuck you, work!", and head to your Lincoln with your deftly hidden redneck antique gun and bitchin' binoculars you lifted from Evidence.

You used those binoculars a little bit behind the shades while spying on Carolina, but you really wanted to hear what she was saying, and her security camera was hidden behind a fence, so it was good you scouted the whole area and got closer, despite the fumbling with the hose.

You'll make an apology to her... later.

If the time/continuity is a little difficult to keep up with right now, I apologize, I'm going to straighten it out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, it's Sunday, and all you want to do is relax. You take a nice shower in the morning, fix your favorite cereal and almond milk, and watch the news.

You fight off the feeling that it's not enough for you.

You fight and fight.

Then succumb.

That Pell University bitch is practically mocking you right now. Go and pay her a visit, champ:
>Finally email-reply to that ad about the dog on craigslist that hooked her in days ago. Have her meet you somewhere for the dog today. (optional - where?)
>Knock on her door in a disguise (optional - which disguise?)
>Spy on her in your Lincoln and on foot. Watch her leave home and see if she has any Sunday classes at Pell University or any hobbies she likes to do.
>Harass her (optional - how? default: by sending pizza man after pizza man to her door.)
>Write in - ???
(one roll goes to this)

92.3 KTWRP massages your ear drums all the way to the abode of your unsuspecting lover, and tells your story.
youtube.com/watch?v=AuUQn0ekAU4
"Feelin' good, but you're stealin' the feelin', I LOVE that line! Have any of you KTWRPers ever felt that way?", Boogie Jay Skeeter asks as the song fades.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion roll: 2.01
>>
Rolled 2, 8, 10 = 20 (3d10)

>A serial groper at Jon's strikes again!
Hey! Only we can grope hot, single women!
>Harass her (optional - how? default: by sending pizza man after pizza man to her door.)
Sausage pizzas and dildos sent constantly to her place. Not just any dildo but some red rockets if you catch my drift. (read: dog dicks)
>>
Rolled 1, 9, 1 = 11 (3d10)

>>4862059
>>Hazing has gotten out of hand on the varsity water polo team at P.U.!
>Spy on her in your Lincoln and on foot. Watch her leave home and see if she has any Sunday classes at Pell University or any hobbies she likes to do.
>>
Rolled 3, 9, 1 = 13 (3d10)

>>4862059
>>>Hazing has gotten out of hand on the varsity water polo team at P.U.!
>Finally email-reply to that ad about the dog on craigslist that hooked her in days ago. Have her meet you somewhere for the dog today.
Somewhere in the forest. She’s dumb enough to go there alone and not tell anyone.
>>
>>4862059
>>>Hazing has gotten out of hand on the varsity water polo team at P.U.!
>Finally email-reply to that ad about the dog on craigslist that hooked her in days ago. Have her meet you somewhere for the dog today.
Somewhere isolated, preferably in the woods. She’s dumb enough to go there alone and not tell anyone. Actually we could even ask her to bring another female friend for a two in one deal.
>>
Rolled 10, 6, 3 = 19 (3d10)

>>
Rolled 9, 7, 2 = 18 (3d10)

>>4862055
>>>>I think someone #*%@ed my goat!
>>Finally email-reply to that ad about the dog on craigslist that hooked her in days ago. Have her meet you somewhere for the dog today. (optional - where?)
>>
>>4862066
If it wasn't for this 10 roll, you'd be looking MIGHTY suspicious right about now, thanks to some sort of freak accident, amateur slip-up, or outside sleuthing expertise! Not an issue right now, though!

(Voting still open)
>>
Rolled 5, 7, 2 = 14 (3d10)

>>4862059
>>>I think someone #*%@ed my goat!
>Spy on her in your Lincoln and on foot. Watch her leave home and see if she has any Sunday classes at Pell University or any hobbies she likes to do.
>>
File: craig23.jpg (603 KB, 1920x1283)
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Rolled 1, 1 = 2 (2d2)

Here you go, flippin' a coin again to relieve stress! (and determine your next strikes, and somehow, other peoples' actions!)

Proper update coming in under 12 hours.

1st coin flip - Your next case!
1 Hazing - Lots of the students here are from your high school, maybe you'll get a chance to throw some in the slammer or jack up with fines and public embarrassment. Hynyeheheh-hnee-heh. They chose college, and you chose ultimate power through the badge. [Power trip intensifies!]
2 Bestiality - Someone fucked a goat? This, you've got time for. [Queue Benny Hill youtube link]
(Looks like the groper runs free, heh heh. God bless the USA~!)

2nd coin flip - Your next thrill! The ditzy college chick.
1 Attempt to Meet/Kidnap
2 Attempt to Spy/Kidnap

^Rolls for this^: Very good. The meet up/spying will go off snazzily, almost without a hitch.
Jim's rolls: 1,2,5,9,10 - Extremely unpredictable,
Suspicion roll avg.: 4 - Pass!
>>
>Roll 2d10!

You'll be in Pell Springs quite a bit this week, if you're going to be tackling the on-campus hazing problem within P.U.'s varsity water polo team.

Earlier, you used your phone to shoot an email to P.U. girl with your anonymized craigslist email. She responded saying she could meet you, even though it's short notice. She really wants to see Scruffy and take him home!

Luckily, you know of an old cabin in the woods near a pond and hillside in Pell Springs, which has been abandoned for years. As you park your car around the back of the cabin, you leave the radio running for a few minutes while you check your email.

youtube.com/watch?v=ZBeuFIJ7aC8

"Somebody came and
Took her awayyy
She didn't even,
Say she was leavin'!
Nooowww her kisses, I miss sooo...
She's missin' mine, I know!"

You power down the car and leave the radio running. Boogie Jay Skeeter is pumping some out good jams today. He butts in after the jug band's song ends: "Hoo-hoooooo! Are y'all ready for a WACKY and WILD Sunday, Twerps? I hope so, because we are OFFICIALLY announcing KTWRP's involvement in next weekend's 4th annual Awesome Blossom Fest at Pell University, celebrating our blossoming willow trees! Your personal host with the most, me, Boogie Jay Skeeter, will be there DJ'ing and raffling off over $10,000 in cool prizes, including shi- I mean stuff like a moped, with custom willow art, several gift cards to Hilda's Bed and Breakfast, and the thing I'M gonna be spending all my tickets on, an old school Space Invaders arcade game! Everyone gets one free ticket upon arrival!" You love invading spaces. The raffle sounds kind of fun, maybe you'll go. Skeeter continues: "Alright, twerps, hope to see you there, I know it's gonna be wild! Anyway, here's some Sublime, comin' at ya!" The first chord plays and you turn the radio off. You will wait in the cabin.

You happened to bring your favorite drink with you, and you drink a tall glass of it alone. It was:
>Gomer's Whiskey. Cheap grain alcohol that reminds you of home.
>A local vintage cabernet sauvignon. Pairs great with the chill winds of the lowlands near the pond, and maybe Pell girl wants to share the rest of the bottle?
>Sangria. Wooooooo! It's a party! You're here to relax, man!
>Merkun Beer. When the swamps on the can are red, it's as hot as the Appalachians in Summer.
>Water. Cool water.
>Warm milk. Something you didn't know you enjoyed until fourth grade, when Mick Poyle showed you in the cafeteria.
>Write in - ???
(one roll goes to this. because why not!?)
>>
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Minutes later, a tiny yellow hatchback rolls up to the cabin. You saw it coming down the road, alone, with your bitchin' binoculars. You exit from the cabin, which has no door, and which has windows that are smashed. The idiotic girl gets out of the car anyways and starts walking to meet you in the door frame.

"Hiii!!" She shrieks. Oh yeah. She cute. And smart as a small, VERY small box of rocks. Instant hard-on. It bulges against the redneck's WW2-era 1911 in your waistband. Smarter to use someone else's piece than your work weapon, if it needs to get used at all.

You two chat for a few minutes and she says she's going to be busy all next week, so she is happy to be able to get Scruffy today. She introduces herself as Tanya. Tanya wouldn't SHUT THE FUCK UP about one of her acquaintances:
>Her BFF Megan. They went clubbing all last night, and the silly boys wouldn't stop hitting on them and buying them drinks!
>Her boyfriend, Remy. Some foreign exchange douche, by the sounds of it. Sounds like she needs a real man in her soon-to-be-snuffed life!
>Her cheerleading coach at P.U.. You've seen her before. She's a stone cold fox!
>Her brother, Randy. Apparently he's got a big varsity wrestling tournament in Idaho to attend. Tanya hopes he wins!
>Her roommate she despises, Lily Pendergrass. She's always hogging the bathroom and never cleaning up after herself in the kitchen. Total bitch, apparently!

You barely get through her trifling bullshit and bring the discussion back to the "free puppy". You have her full attention.

Just as visions of this broad's coming torture, rape, culling and disposal flood your head, you realize you'll need a plan of action. You lick your lips and choose the path of:
>Ultraviolence.
Something comes over you. Something malignant. You don't even feel relaxed anymore, or aroused. All you feel is pure anger. You lead her to your Lincoln and say "Scruffy's in the back seat, go on, look in there!" You ambush and brutalize her. Melon juice everywhere. Cleanup is necessary NOW. At least if you clean up quickly, the rest of your Sunday is free.
>Cabin Fever!
It's kind of nice in this old outpost. There are leaves scattered on the floor, but the box-spring mattress still looks functional!
>The Doting Honeymooner.
Take her. It's not hard to schedule a hotel room or two with fake identities on short notice. Or to call out sick for a day or two of work, especially with the Ena Fuvya case closing favorably.
>Liam Neeson's Worst Nightmare.
Take her. Your southern home's basement is begging for a beautifully chained-and-gagged accoutrement to its concrete walls.
>An Apologetic Dunderhead.
You simply apologize and tell her little Scruffy ran off. He does this all the time, he usually shows back up within hours or days. You've got plenty of new information to formulate a better plan of attack later. Maybe she wants to hang out for a bit or go looking for Scruffy in the hills?
>Write in - ???
(one roll for this)
>>
>>4863889
What’s the difference between the various date/kidnap options?
>>
>>4863897
It determines how you will go about interacting with this beautiful bright young mind of Pell Springs
>>
Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d10)

>>4863884
>Warm milk. Something you didn't know you enjoyed until fourth grade, when Mick Poyle showed you in the cafeteria.
Suitably off-putting enough for a serial killer.
>Her boyfriend, Remy. Some foreign exchange douche, by the sounds of it. Sounds like she needs a real man in her soon-to-be-snuffed life!
Bitches always talk about their boyfriends.
>Ultraviolence.
THE INFINIVITY, GOD OF THE INFINITE BLOOD LAKE DIMENSION, NEEDS US TO RISE UP THE FOLDS OF HYPERVIOLENCE.
>>
Rolled 10, 2 = 12 (2d10)

>>4863889
>Sangria. Wooooooo! It's a party! You're here to relax, man!
>Her roommate she despises, Lily Pendergrass. She's always hogging the bathroom and never cleaning up after herself in the kitchen. Total bitch, apparently.
>Liam Neeson's Worst Nightmare.

>>4863903
A description of her would be nice. A picture even, should you feel extra.
>>
Rolled 8, 3 = 11 (2d10)

>>4863884
>A local vintage cabernet sauvignon. Pairs great with the chill winds of the lowlands near the pond, and maybe Pell girl wants to share the rest of the bottle?

>>4863889
>Her roommate she despises, Lily Pendergrass. She's always hogging the bathroom and never cleaning up after herself in the kitchen. Total bitch, apparently!
>Liam Neeson's Worst Nightmare.
Our basement is stocked with the finest torture devices, old and modern, yes? Fully soundproof too surely?
>>
Rolled 10, 9 = 19 (2d10)

>>4863889
>>Her cheerleading coach at P.U.. You've seen her before. She's a stone cold fox!
>>
>>4863969
Forgot the others
>Warm milk. Something you didn't know you enjoyed until fourth grade, when Mick Poyle showed you in the cafeteria.
>Liam Neeson's Worst Nightmare.
>>
>>4863917
>Description
That's a great idea (kinda posted in a rush this morning)
>>4863942
>Our basement is stocked with the finest torture devices, old and modern, yes? Fully soundproof too surely?
Surely.
>>
Rolled 10, 4 = 14 (2d10)

>>4863889
>>A local vintage cabernet sauvignon. Pairs great with the chill winds of the lowlands near the pond, and maybe Pell girl wants to share the rest of the bottle?
>>Her roommate she despises, Lily Pendergrass. She's always hogging the bathroom and never cleaning up after herself in the kitchen. Total bitch, apparently!
>>Cabin Fever!
>>
>>4863884
>>Sangria. Wooooooo! It's a party! You're here to relax, man!
>>4863889
>>Her roommate she despises, Lily Pendergrass. She's always hogging the bathroom and never cleaning up after herself in the kitchen. Total bitch, apparently!
>>Liam Neeson's Worst Nightmare.
>>
Rolled 2 + 100000000000 (1d3 + 100000000000)

three way split, rolling for beverage:
100000000001 - Cheap Sangria from Jon's Supermarket
100000000002 - Lukewarm moo juice
100000000003 - A local vintage cab from the Dooley Brothers winery in Millard
>>
(Sorry pals, got taken away from what I thought would be a calm, quiet weekend. Will resume as soon as I can. Temporary intermission for now. For anyone interested, Civ TURBO will be coming back soon, too.)
>>
File: craig25.jpg (51 KB, 612x408)
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51 KB .jpg
The warm milk is settling in your stomach. It's everything you've wanted. You feel like writing an ode to how great it was to drink warm milk while waiting by the lake for your next victim to show up. A diddy presents itself while the broad yaps on like a mutt.

Warm Milk At Noon In Velton

Warm like a summer's day
Udders say won't you come and play
Warrrrm milk, warrrrrm milk.
Milk, the measure of a man
Baby, will you take my milky hand?
Warrrrrrm, warrrrrrrrm miiiiiilk!

...

Well, you're more of a singer, not a songwriter. You're getting quite gassy, but you feel satisfied and fortified by 36 added vitamins and minerals. It's time to ditch this menial conversation and get to brass tacks.

I. Deception
You don't want to bother to get to know your victim. It's time to incapacitate her and take her away from this dingy cabin and in to your basement. You spent hours cleaning and preparing it for just such an occasion, including collecting foam padding, mattresses and plywood covertly to use to cover your walls.
>Take her by the wrist and beat her about the face until she's unconscious, like a drunken spouse. The milk is taking over!
>Coax her into your house willingly. "Scruffy's actually back at my house in Velton, darling, I'm sorry. I just had you meet me here because I got finished working in the hills not too long ago, I'm, er, a lumberjack! I have his toys, food and bed at my house, too. I can give you that stuff as well!"
>"Scruffy's in the car, hun, just take a look in the back seat, I think he's sleeping under that blanket." Pistol whip her from behind.
>Flash your badge, convince this dumb broad she's committed a crime. "Detective Skeletor for Velton County Animal Control!! This is a sting operation!! You're under arrest, bitch! You're in a lot of trouble for illegally trading and receiving dogs! You're coming to our secret operation headquarters!"
>Write in - ???

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRNPuSapsSs
You keep the radio pumping loud, and your foot on the floor. Your trunk is a-rockin', and you have a feeling you'll be walkin'. Walkin' from the Ena Fuvya case, and any in the future, that is. No one can stop the Velton Violator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

II. Torture
Your jaw grinds on the trip home. It's a short one. Time flies when you're having fun. Singing with the radio helps you stay calm, and if the girl is conscious, probably terrifies the shit out of her. She can't protest if she's bound and gagged. You take her in your home as neatly and quietly as you can and experience no intervention. Time blurs. You lock every lock you own and take the girl downstairs to Scruffy's lair. Within minutes, the whimpering body is no longer recognizable to most. Mostly because your methods of torture [Choose two (2):]
>Cigarette burns
>Occult rune and symbol carving
>Electric shocks
>Choking and waterboarding
>Chemicals
>Write in - ???
>>
III. Sex Acts.
Once she was pleasantly broken, you had hours and hours of sex that was kinky as hell. You didn't even take her orally, vaginally or anally, you mostly [Choose one to two (1-2):]
>Used the spaces in between her toes
>Licked her face
>Used her as human furniture, placing her in humiliating and ridiculous positions
>Drowned her in piss, and gave her some beef stew (fart in mouth)
>Commanded her to shove her fists and various foreign objects inside of you
>Write in - ???

IV. Snuffing
Underneath your sweat, you understand you have to start cleaning up for your third time. Sigh. But she's been such good company.
>Kill her.
>Keep her.

V. Disposal [Locked if you didn't kill the girl]
...
>Lake, again, but better this time, you swear.
>Let's go with incineration this time.
>King Jr's dumpster on garbage day.
>Dissolved in acid.
>Buried under the basement.
>Write in - ???

VI. Celebration
Nothing makes you feel more alive than what you've just done, but you know that a little after-party can help you glide this high for longer.
>More warm milk. Nyehhehhehehehee.
>Draw some twisted stuff in your notebook.
>Admire your trophy case, what little is in there.
>Stalk the dead girl's apartment, and pleasure yourself in your car.
>Just take a bath. Go to Dr. Lipschitz for more therapy in the morning before work.
>Write in - ???
>>
>>4868196
>Write in - ???
Choke her until she stops squirming. Also helps to prevent her from screaming. Not like it matters too much.
>Occult rune and symbol carving
>Chemicals
Carve the symbols of the INFINIVITY AND THE SHATTERED KING all over her flesh. Drug her and mess with her mind until her mind is broken and she believes she is a maiden to the SHATTERED KING.
>Used the spaces in between her toes
>Used her as human furniture, placing her in humiliating and ridiculous positions
Make her feel like she's not even a woman anymore. Just a hunk of meat.
>Kill her.
Too much of a liability to feed and hide such a broken mess in our house. One fuckup and we're tied up in cuffs. Make her believe she's a ritual sacrifice and that she should be happy to die for the INFIVINITY AND THE SHATTERED KING
>Let's go with incineration this time.
She is a sacrifice, after all. That and it's the opposite of a lake. Water, fire, it's mystical bullshit.
>Draw some twisted stuff in your notebook.
Let's just draw some cool occult shit, man.
>>
>>4868196
>Coax her into your house willingly. "Scruffy's actually back at my house in Velton, darling, I'm sorry. I just had you meet me here because I got finished working in the hills not too long ago, I'm, er, a lumberjack! I have his toys, food and bed at my house, too. I can give you that stuff as well!"

>Write in - ???
Whipped then racked

>Used her as human furniture, placing her in humiliating and ridiculous positions
>Used the valley between her breasts

>Keep her. Have her tied to an x shaped cross for the sacrilege.

>More warm milk. Nyehhehhehehehee.
>Just take a bath. Go to Dr. Lipschitz for more therapy in the morning before work.

Still need a description of her and how she reacts to the torture before deciding she's for killing or worth keeping.
>>
>>4868196
>Coax her into your house willingly. "Scruffy's actually back at my house in Velton, darling, I'm sorry. I just had you meet me here because I got finished working in the hills not too long ago, I'm, er, a lumberjack! I have his toys, food and bed at my house, too. I can give you that stuff as well!"

>Choking and waterboarding
>Strappado

>Used the valley between her breasts
>Used her as human furniture, placing her in humiliating and ridiculous positions

>Keep her.

>Just take a bath. Go to Dr. Lipschitz for more therapy in the morning before work.
Give her the Spanish Inquisiton experience. She'll never expect it!
>>
Y'all are based ngl
>>
>>4868588
based on what?
>>
>>4868196
>>Coax her into your house willingly. "Scruffy's actually back at my house in Velton, darling, I'm sorry. I just had you meet me here because I got finished working in the hills not too long ago, I'm, er, a lumberjack! I have his toys, food and bed at my house, too. I can give you that stuff as well!"
>Choking and waterboarding
>Whipped then racked, move a candle around her body make her uncomfortable but not enough to burn

>>4868201
>Used her as human furniture, placing her in humiliating and ridiculous positions
>Carried out a mock trial to judge her for her "sins"
>Keep her. Put her on a cross or have her chained by her walls.
>Just take a bath. Go to Dr. Lipschitz for more therapy in the morning before work.
>>
>>4868196
>>Coax her into your house willingly. "Scruffy's actually back at my house in Velton, darling, I'm sorry. I just had you meet me here because I got finished working in the hills not too long ago, I'm, er, a lumberjack! I have his toys, food and bed at my house, too. I can give you that stuff as well!"
>>Write in - ???
Chinese water torture
>>Used the spaces in between her toes
>>Kill her.
>>Dissolved in acid.
>>Just take a bath. Go to Dr. Lipschitz for more therapy in the morning before work.
>>
Should have the next update for this by this time tomorrow, sorry for the wait. Life, yadda yadda. Loving all your write ins and commentary.

VOTING STILL OPEN