To Rossi:
Your night passed, and you did the wood for sled swap with Cappah. The wolves were gone, no trace. No tracks, either, oddly enough.
The sled is, well, cozy. Who sat on whose lap? The rest of the trip, though, it was thankfully uneventful. The damn sled couldn't take an attack, but it's pretty quick. Jester wanted to stop by to see his moms, since you're coming from the south. I assume you don't object?
We pick up with the pair of you trudging across the frosty ground of the graveyard after parking the sled... what did you name it?
"Moms will be so happy that you got me, you know, fixed." Jester says brightly. "Well, not fixed, like fixing a dog, heh. On the whole way you did it, are you good to talk with them about it?"
Comments
We named the sled "Ol' Stinky" — largely because the smell that engine made burns your nose like turpentine. I don't mind stopping to get a break from the smell, and I'm sure Jester's moms will appreciate seeing him again, feeling better. "I don't see the point in talking about it," I answer quietly, "I have a sneaky suspicion your moms already know about it, and it's not like I know what happened... Frankly, unless they bring it up, I'd rather not talk about it."
"My moms are sharp, but they don't know everything, Rossi." Jester chides. "And yeah, I could see why you'd want to avoid mentioning your magic powers to the only two women who'd actually have a clue. Or could, you know, maybe help you out... that makes sense."
You're both maybe fifty feet away from the mausoleum when Jester stops, sniffs loudly, and asks, "Hey... you smell that? Some weird smoke." He shrugs, "Maybe Bond found some new wood." He laughs, "Or Mel grew some new weed. Ever had her bud?"
"Wasn't so hard," Jester says with a grin. "They only had to hunt down the sweetest heart in all Chi-town." He hobbles on, but he knows that was super corny, he's just daring you to call him on it.
That smell, it's not wood or weed. Smells like... garlic? Sort of like garlic, but there's some chemical smell to it, too.
"What the..." Jester says, looking up ahead as you come round to the entrance. It's already open.
Jester starts hobble jogging forward, worry on his face.
What do you do?
You follow Jester inside the mausoleum, and the smoke in here is bad. No cooking going on, no way. The ceiling is black from something. There are bodies in here, burned bodies. Hard to count, probably three or four? They are facing towards the door, on their backs. Only husks.
Jester's breaking down as he starts hobble-running towards the stairs down,"Oh shit.... ohshit ohshit, Rossi..."
What. The. Fuck?
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 2, 1. Total: 4)
Jester's not listening to you as he moves down the short stairs to the set of underground rooms where his moms stay. You follow, I assume.
You come down to see him hitch up a step, "Oh... oh no." He pushes forward into his awkward gait and drops to his knees beside the body of Bond. She's been shot several times, obviously dead. Has been for a while.
There are other bodies in here, too. One is stuck in the wall, only the torso up showing. It's as if the wall sucked him inside and quit halfway through. The guy's face is frozen in a rictus of fear. He's wearing camos. You recognize him, Rossi. He was a Soulja Boy.
There are Soulja Boys, one hand is sticking up from the earth, the rest of his or her body buried. Another is lying in the fetal position beside most of the contents of his stomach and an amazing amount of blood and viscera. Something awful happened here.
And Bond is dead.
Jester reaches a hand out to touch his mom's. He's lost it, Rossi. Blubbering and heaving sobs in soul-reaving pain and horror.
What do you do?
That's when we happen on whatever the fuck happened in Jester's moms' room... It's a fucking massacre in here. My jaw drops in a combination of awe and terror at the sight of it all. The blood, the pained faces, and the sight of poor Bond — executed, by the looks of it. I swallow hard, and come up behind Jester, kneeling behind him and putting my hand on his shoulder...
"I'm so sorry, Jester," I whisper quietly, "I'm so sorry..."
Jester kneels there for a few moments, just hurting. He doesn't flinch from your touch. He looks back at you, eyes red, "Did you... did you see Mel? I... I didn't see her."
You didn't see her on the way in. One of the burned bodies might be her, but you get the feeling it isn't her, doesn't seem right, with four of them in the same position like that.
Something is tempting me to let my guard down, and open my mind to the whispers in my head... It worked with Jester, and I'm afraid they're the only thing that might know what really happened here.
Jester nods. "Yeah... she wanted to be burned. We can. There's fuel." He reaches for you, at first in an attempt to get up. Then he pauses, and bends down to hug into you, putting his head to your chest. He sobs a little, then pushes himself the rest of the way up, starts hobbling over to get the fuel. "We should take her body outside. Let her return to nature."
Do you want to skip ahead to the burning, or is there more here?
Let's do the burning. If Bond's spirit has anything to say, I'd guess that would be the time for me to hear her say it...
We skip ahead to the impromptu funeral.
Jester didn't bothered with cleaning out the other corpses, you get the feeling he may never return to this place. With your help, he found a nice stone slab, and carefully arranged Bond's body on it, then liberally poured fuel.
That done, he steps back to stand beside you, and starts singing a dirge for her. It's her favorite song, which, much like her life, is sad but reflective. He lights a match and drops it onto the trail of fuel. The fuel catches fire, even in the bitter cold, and the flame crawls its way to her body.
During it all, I find myself listening to the wind... The howling sometimes tells me secrets when the world is quiet. The world feels particularly quiet right now.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 4, 3. Total: 8)
The smoke rising from Bond's funeral pyre swirl and dance in the chill air. Jester continues singing, but mixed in are voices. You recognize Bond's clear voice first, but then there are others. She isn't talking to you, she's talking to them, the Soulja Boys.
"... we don't know where the generator is, alright? Just take what you want and move on."
"We've got orders, lady. We're turning this place over. Your boy Jester was seen with a masked man who's causing trouble all over. Killed some of our friends."
Then, you hear a gurgling, hissing voice. A voice in pain and angry,
"You had best leave, or I will make you leave."
"No! No, Melly, stay calm. Listen, she's sick, alright? Just ignore her ramblings, she's just a sick lady..."
"I told you, Bond. One of us will die... kill me, you asshole."
"You know what? Fuck this. Just shoot these bitches..."
You hear the sound of guns firing, barking forth death. A woman's scream. Then the sound of stone and earth and fire and more screams, hastily given orders cut short.
The cold beats back Bond's funeral pyre quickly, and the fire dies to embers. In that other time, the one you're eavesdropping on, you hear the flames and the screams of the dying fade as well.
After some time, when Bond's funeral pyre is down to embers and ashes, I turn to Jester and give him a hug. "I don't think Mel's here, Jester... Do you know where she might have gone?"
Jester quirks a frown. "Well... if she's still alive." He doesn't meet your gaze, doesn't want to answer. "The Field."
"Let her go, Rossi. Don't go."
"If I went out on some suicide mission, would you try and stop me?"
Jester's too worn to show any other emotion, "Of course I would. But Mel's... she won't listen. To you. Or me. Revenge isn't the answer. She's... what she's doing is a mistake, but she won't go out any other way." He swallows, tries to start collecting himself. He knows what you're going to do.
Let's see you Manipulate dear Jester here.
(Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 2, 1. Total: 3)
Jester nods, "Alright, Rossi. We'll try." He closes his eyes, grimaces once like he's putting Bond aside, moving on as best he can. "Let's get in the sled, she'll be walking. She may not even make it."
He starts hobbling towards the sled, now committed to doing the best he can.
I head over to the sled and check my shotgun to make sure it's loaded, then mask up again and get moving.
You both get onto the sled and fire it up. Jester's still driving. He calls over your shoulder, "I'm gonna take a walking path, not the highway. That way we can look for her on the way, alright?"
He moves along at a decent clip along the frozen sidewalks, dipping onto the street to get around snow drifts from time to time. The snow has covered up any trace of her so far, but it's a long ride north to Soulja Field.
Hey Rossi, why don't we let the dice decide this? Give me an Act Under Fire. If you make it, then you get to Melancholy before she reaches her destination.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 2, 2. Total: 5)
You head north for a mile, maybe two, and come within a block of your old place, the one where Molotov found you and you had to cut and run. With Jester driving this sled slow and easy, you know you're prime targets when you hit Frontie's old stomping grounds.
Jester's insistent that Mel came this way. If you keep motoring along through here like this, Stink Bug, or maybe the LostKeys, or even one of Frontie's family is bound to give you trouble. You just know it.
What do you do?
I reach for the handbreak before entering Frontie's old stomping grounds, and give a quick glance around before whispering, "Jester... We should get you out of here. I'm wearing stuff that can stop a stray bullet or two, but you're not. I killed Frontside Indy and Grab because they were fucking with Silica... If a member of his family comes looking for revenge, I don't want you at risk..."
"What if she's in there?" Jester whispers back. "What if we go around, and miss her? She's shitty with directions, Rossi. I'm sure she went this way."
Jester licks his lips, considering. Then he shakes his head, starts reaching for the brake, "We'll both go around. We can get ahead of her, maybe."
What do you do?
You skirt the gang territory, taking MLK north. MLK is gridlocked, but in a skinny sled like this, Jester is able to wind around, keeping a steady speed, too. He's a decent driver. His eyes are ever on the dangerous part of town, searching for signs of his mother, peeking between buildings, scanning rooftops. But there's nothing.
After three blocks, you're in Soulja Boy territory, which means you'll be stopped if you enter, frisked, maybe even roughed up and ejected. They're pretty hostile about heir turf lately, and armed to the teeth.
Jester stops the sled, in the middle of the street, between a couple blocks of ice over SUVs, just enough visibility to see the "checkpoint" set up ahead, with concrete barriers and a a pair of armed guards. They see you, too. But they won't come out to mess with you, you know this.
What do you do?
Are you planning on heading up there to chat? Jester's stopped the sled, that's what he's going to do.
Jester gives you a look, like please don't get in trouble, and nods. The road from MLK down to the checkpoint is pretty clear, considering everything around it. You see granules of salt at the edges, even step on actual stretches of asphalt. It's odd.
Ahead are those two guards: Em-six-teen and Tank. Which one of them do you recognize, and why aren't you involved with them anymore?
This is Em-six-teen:
Tank stands up, looks directly at you when you get about fifteen feet from the barrier, and says, "What do you want, stranger?"
Not my kind of party.
Anyway, I walk up to Tank, my shotgun slung over my shoulder, and slow — but don't stop — when he asks what I want. "I'm looking for someone. You seen an older woman come walking through here? Spouting nonsense?"
Tank eyes the shotgun more than you. "Why? You lookin for your ole lady? heh." He looks to Em-six-teen, who rolls her eyes at the joke, keeping her game face on. "Why would your bitch be comin through here?"
How did Em know Ross was actually a girl?
I stare Tank down, not flinching at his stupid joke. "Because some of your friends decided to shoot up her wife, asshole, and she killed them. All of them. And now she's coming for you."
Tank and Em both look at you, like you just became reallll important just now. Em speaks up, "One of em lived? Choppah said they were both KIAs."
Then Tank brings up his rifle, not aimed at you, just demonstrating he's armed. An assault rifle, in fact. "What do you mean coming for us, asshole?"
I shake my head, "you've been shaking down people over this generator of yours, and this time you crossed a fucking line. I dunno what that woman's capable of, but if she comes this way, she's gunna unleash the second fucking apocalypse on you guys... If you know what's good for you, you'll let me and my friend back there talk her down."
That's one hell of a manipulate, if you want to hit the dice.
(Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 6, 4. Total: 10)
Tank glares at you, then steps back, saying to Em, "Watch him."
Em looks over at Tank, but he's walking away a few feet. She looks to you, "Aint no him here. heh... dumbass."
As you and Em both stand there, only a concrete barrier separating you, Tank pulls a radio out of his pocket and checks in. "This is MLK Gate, checking in. South Cottage, check in."
There's a pause, then a response on the radio, "South Cottage here."
Tank barks into the radio, "South Lake Gate, check in."
Another pause, this one shorter, like they know the drill, "South Lake, checking in."
Once again, Tank calls, "Dearborn Gate, check in." Silence. He repeats, "Dearborn! Check in!" No response.
Voice from South Lake calls, "I'll hump it to Dearborn Gate."
Em asks you, "Hey, you can talk this chick out of being stupid? I'm not letting you in to just buddy up with her, Ross."
I turn and call over to Jester, "Jester! C'mon! I think we found her."
Em looks over at Tank, then motions you both in, "C'mon." Jester hops off the sled, hobbles down. Em calls to Tank, "I'm ridin the jeep over to Dearborn, Tank."
Tank looks up, waves her on. She pulls back the wooden barrier to let you both in, then leads you around a building to hop into a jeep with chains on the front wheels and treads on the rear. It's in good condition. It's a hardtop.
She motions to the seats "Get in, I'll drive you over." Jester moves like he's getting in the back. What do you do?
Em nods, she's bought into your story, more or less. She speeds up, turning down side streets heading towards the lake. The Soulja Boy territory is very organized. A running joke in Chi-town is that the Soulja Boys would take over things if everybody would clean up their fucken back yard.
You arrive at what was Dearborn Gate, evidently. You can see the lake over a set of guardrails. The concrete barrier here is moved aside. Casually, like somebody just nudged it out of the way.
You see one guy here, but he looks like he just ran up. Em is getting out of the jeep, calling to him, "Hey, 'Pache, where's Eagle and Hummer?"
The guy, Apache, answers curtly, "Fuck if I know. The gate's abandoned."
Ross, when you get out of the jeep, you spot a couple of spots near the gate. Maybe a couple feet across, no snow or ice. No asphalt either, just earth.
What do you do?
I'm looking for any signs of where she might have gone...
Apache heads into a building nearby for some supplies, while Em calls on her radio, "We've got a breach! Everybody at home, we have a breach at Dearborn! I repeat, the south is compromised!"
She looks to you, Ross, "You know where she'd go?"
Jester answers, "The Field."
"Shit!" Em-six-teen curses, heading towards her vehicle, "Get in the jeep."
Em is chattering on the radio while driving at a high rate of speed. Jester leans up and says into your ear, "I've got her meds. They calm her down. Should stop this... madness. But then what?"