NationStates Jolt Archive

The man stepped off the lift as he exited the shuttle. A short distance away the freighter was being unloaded by the cargo trucks as massive containers were manipulated out of the hold. Each was sealed at their point of origin by the contract shipper and the bonding agent when it was loaded aboard the ship. That would have been the end of the story but due to some quarantine imposed due to a civil war, all the freight had to be taken to a handler where it would be switched to a second party vessel. Apparently the only vessels that would be able to enter the zone were Dornie ships. Weird how that worked out but it allowed some unscrupulous shippers to place a surcharge to use their own services as middlemen.

As the cargo was transferred to the tramp freighter which would complete the journey to the Colonies the man stopped at the port authority. He offered valid papers and was admitted. After taking a meal in a nearby shop he waited for the freighter to finish loading before heading to the shuttle station. He would transfer to the freighter and ride it the rest of the way to his destination, all it took was money and he was “just one of the crew” to avoid legal complications. With half the credits transferred to the card of the captain he boarded the freighter and was soon underway.

A week later the first body was located. The victim was a jogger taken one early morning on Caprica. His body neck was cut as well as a slit the length of one arm and one leg. He was found hanging in a tree a mile off the trail by a search team. There was a number carved into his forehead.


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OOC:

The OOC Thread is HERE (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=595707). Please keep all OOC there and only IC here.

This story begins, as all good stories should, in a bar. The smoke was thick, as the man in a brown suit watched his whiskey being poured. Behind him, he could hear the chatter of life, the collisions of the pool table balls, slamming into one another. The sweet voice of some young prostitute hitting on one of the drunk patrons. The laughter of a few men off the docks enjoying a good drink before going home to their wives and kids.

Max looked up into the mirror, as he took a puff off his cigarette. Had it really been twenty years? Twenty years serving the Caprica City Police... He could hardly believe it as he placed his cigarette down. Reaching across the bar, he took his shot of whiskey in a gulp. Extending his index finger, he gently tapped the edge of it, signaling to the bartender he would like another.

Max picked up his smoke and took another puff. All he had left in life was the force. His wife and son, were murdered, the same as millions of others. By the Coredian bombing of the Embassy. Every time he blinked his eyes he could see their faces. The last day he was with them. Although it no longer mattered. They were dead, like the victims he often investigated. Nothing would bring them back...

Another man sat down next to him. He wore a wide brim hat, and wore a black and very expensive suit. “Hey Max.” the man said, staring at him. The new man turned to the bar keep, “Get this man another drink will ya.”

Max looked over at him. His eyes half drunk, “What do you want, you dirt eating piece of shit.” Max asked the man.

“Now, is that any way to talk to a business associate?” The man asked. Reaching up to his neck he scratched it, revealing a partial tattoo. “You may not be aware, but a friend of mine has recently gotten into a situation, that we will need your services for.” the dark skinned man told Max. Reaching into pocket, he pulled out a picture of a man. The man was Tauronese, dark skinned, and covered in tattoos. “My friend, as you see is an innocent man. Some Caprician pig, picked him up, and framed him. I want you to do what is right, and help him out.”

Max shook his head. “You want me to make the evidence disappear.” Max asked.

The man smiled as he looked towards the bar tender who was pouring him a drink. “I want you, to exact Justice, my friend.” he said as he pulled out a thick envelope. “Go now, go home, sober up.” Looking over to one of the prostitutes in the corner, he waived his hand to her.

A young blond woman, no more than 18 years old walked over to the men. She wore a tight red dress, which left little to the imagination. “What’s your name sweet heart?” he asked her.

“Venus.” she said with a smile. “Yeah I bet. Max, take her for the night.” he said blatantly. Pulling out a small wad of hundred cubit bills he placed it in her hand. “Give him a good night.” he said to the woman.

“I don’t want your money, or your women.” Max said disgruntle. The man leaned over, and gently whispered in Max’s ear, “You and I, go back a long way. This isn’t payment, this is a favor. Now you do what we say, I would hate it if something bad were too happen.”

Max glared at him, as he sat up. The woman wrapped her arm around the grizzly man, “Come on honey. Show me where you live.” she said to him in a sweet pick up voice.

Four hours later, the phone rang. Pushing the sleeping woman aside, Max reached for the phone. His hand slapped around in the dark, as the phone rang, and rang again. Finally finding it, he pushed the talk button and put it to his ear.

“Ello” he said in a half drunken stupor.

“Detective Jackson.”a male voice said on the other end of the phone. “We need you to come down to the park. Three hours ago, a body of a young male, roughly age 34 was found murdered.”

“Ah.” he said unsympathetic. “Fine I will be down. Have the beat cops and the witnesses ready for me when I get there.” he said. He got up, as the woman groined for a moment. Pushing her shoulder, he looked at her. “Gotta go.” he told her. Her eyes half awake, “It’s 4 am.”

He nodded, “Yeah and you gotta go.”

She turned over and picked up her dress off the floor. Putting it back on, she opened the door into the brightly light hallway.

Max put his hands up to his head. Another body, another day...

He walked through the crowds along the busy street. The bustle of the capital was usual for an average work day but to an off-worlder, it seemed crowded. People everywhere wearing suits and moving around their daily lives not even seeing the person hurrying next to them looked blindly ahead as they walked. The solitude of a crowd.

He walked by an internet café and decided to step in. He had been following the news lately but there has not been mention of a certain jogger. That irritated him. He had hung the meat up for everyone to share but nobody knew of it yet. He needed to relax so he ordered a coffee and took it to one of the empty tables and logged in. Typing in a search for Magibon, he quickly found the links he was looking for and soon the video of a young Asian girl was staring out of the screen smiling at him. He seemed to lose himself in her eyes as he watched the video…

Several hours later the man entered his apartment and after closing the door, tossed his keys on the table. He walked into the kitchen and checked the bowl. Taking a bag form the closet, he refilled it with food and replaced the bag back. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he walked over to the couch as he opened it and turned on the television. After hitting the channel button a few dozen times he tossed the remote on the cushion beside him and finished his beer. With a sigh, he leaned back and closed his eyes for a few seconds…

Suddenly he sat up. It was way after dark and the station he was watching went off the air. Feeling extremely tired he dragged himself to his bed and collapsed upon it barely remembering walking from the couch.

The next morning the foreman arriving first at the construction site reached into his pocket to unlock the paddle lock used to secure the main entrance. Even in the capital city, one had to lock up tools and gear or the kids will walk away with it. Pulling the thick chain from between the bars, he secured the lock on the hanging chain and pushed open the door. Turning to pick up his lunch bucket he was startled by a scream. A woman walking by the front entrance glanced to her right as the motion of the double gates swung open. Hanging from the crane was the upside down body of a woman. A pool of blood formed a crimson lake under her gently swaying form. Clearly seen was a large number 3 carved into her forehead and from all the blood, it was easy to see she had to be dead. A crowd of people began to gather, atrtracted to the scene by the woman's screams.