Deviation Actions
Literature Text
The group is driven further into the city’s more concentrated financial and government district, where the tallest structure is located. As they near closer to the main Government Building, they pass through the tourism district and finally reach a more populated area of the city’s northern half. There they find a far more well structured and maintained collection of streets and blocks, drastically different than that of the surrounding wastes and road-side shanties.
Throughout the drive, the Detective couldn’t bring her head back into the truck. Her eyes travelled in all manner of directions, looking up on high and across the streets, seeing all that the northern district could offer. This part of Moresatta was all she was used to, a near mimicry to her home of Tyrell though far warmer and brighter by comparison. The streets and roads were clean, though were packed with the usual traffic that was expected of cities of such massive size. A majority of the buildings were constructed of concrete, glass and metal; they stood with great heights, with sharpened reflections that spread across the shining walls, taking many shapes and forms. The higher the structures reached, the more they began to turn red from the sands that blew across the skies, clashing drastically against the great blue skies. There was very little in terms of grime. No graffitti, very little advertisements aside from signs in shops and posters on kiosks, and there was quite few artistic designs to be noticed, or are worthy of noticing. Although tall and monumental, the skyscrapers were basic in design and uncreative; they were uniform in construction, with the only variation being the aforementioned shapes. Equally as unremarkable were the people itself. Unlike villagers on the road, or the guards at the gates, the men and women of the northern district wore different variation of business attire: basic suits, shirts, work dresses and gowns. They walked upon the sidewalk, moving under the shades of the buildings that made up the area, looking quite busy with their lives and completely ignoring the truck that is driving down the road. The Detective couldn’t help but look at each and every one when she got the chance, examining and theorizing what they do with the ten or so seconds of observation she could manage with each individual person. She wondered to herself on the motivations of the people on the streets, getting a feel for what the city itself is actually alike beyond the impressive yet strictly formal appearance of this particular district.
Pardue didn’t need to look out, instead stating aloud towards the Detective, “Enjoying the city?”
“It’s a nice sight”, replied the Detective, continuing to look out without even an attempt to turn towards the chief. “Aside from all the red hills and mountains we’ve seen along the way.”
“I can’t relate.” He said, sounding quite unamused. “The Northern district has always left me a bit… uncomfortable.”
She turned slightly, slowly pulling herself back in behind the tarp to properly face Pardue.
“Uncomfortable?”
“The tall buildings, all the grey and white streets, the quiet; everything I don’t like. Nothing here feels like Moresatta. It’s all clean and controlled, and lacking all that is truly a part of the colony.”
“Then where can I get a ‘true feeling’ of Moresatta?”
“Southside.” He answers back without delay. “If you want true Moresatta, it has to be Southside.”
Monroe broke his silence and made a point quite clear: “If that place comes in the way for our duty, then we may make for a proper visit. Otherwise, we do not have the time for any extended detour.”
“Of course, Inspector.” Pardue replied, deadpan. “Still, maybe it would do you good to actually visit the city than to remain in the districts the government wants you to see.”
“Only if necessary, Pardue.”
Then came the announcement from Clay, proceeding after a couple hard knocks against the glass that separates the driver from the passangers. “Gov’ment buildin’ coming in. This is as far as I can go, so you’d best be walkin’ the rest of the way. Pardue’s got me number, so if you be needin’ a ride, you ask him! Otherwise, you’re on ya’ own.”
The truck began to slow, moving onto right and closer against the sidewalk. Aside from the multiple stops along the way, due to the traffic that had cluttered the streets, Clay’s truck managed to reach the groups drop off point before the main government building. There was a great bit of walking distance between their spot on the road and the building itself, with the space consisting of a clear open white-tiled plaza. From the far off distance that the group was settled, the Detective could spot a tinge of red, surrounded and squared off by a string of yellow tape.
Immediately upon stopping, the back ramp of the truck began to open and lower down onto the ground, leading the Detective to let out a sigh of relief.
She quickly began to rush down the ramp, taking quick steps and landing right down to the ground before steering right into the sidewalk, getting a bit of distance between herself and the truck. Pardue followed suit, but was quickly passed by Monroe who had begun to catch up with the fellow Detective. Before the three can proceed onward, Pardue casually walks on over to the driver’s window, extending his arm out with a card for Clay to grab, which he does so with sudden excitement. With that he drives off, speeding down the road and away from the group.
“Payment?”, the Detective asked flatly.
“Obviously.” Pardue stated. “Man is good on his word so long as payments are made, and he’s done us well in getting us here. We should probably give him some time before we call for his services again. After a trip like that, he’s should be on his way for closest bar he can find.”
“Of course.”
The Detective then led on, heading straight for the spot of red she saw in the distance.
The white tile ground was as uniform and stale, shaped in squares that didn’t alter or take any other form or routing. It was all clean, somehow untouched, and only changing in color by the shadows of the surrounding skyscrapers. The uniformity was ruined however, when they had gotten closer to where the red was.
Pardue explained as they came closer to the spot.
“There it is: where Magnus fell and landed that night. I wasn’t there to see it happen, but I did see the aftermath.”
Then the Detective asked plainly, “How was it?”
“Terrible, even compared to what I’ve seen before. He landed flat, chest down, right against the ground, like a hard slap of meat on a butcher’s table. I remember seeing his body barely holding itself together, with everything about to come apart and open up. His suit was keeping everything packed up, but even that was tearing in half from the fall it went through. I bet if I had stayed long enough I’d seen what his body had done after it gave in, and I’m grateful to have left as quickly as we had. The men and I were shocked. The month leading up to that night was the worst we’ve suffered, with many good friends having been killed so unfairly. That night, however, was the last straw. Broke some of my men. Many had cried when we saw Magnus, just like the rest of the city. We weeped and felt anger more when we realized that some of the wounds he suffered came long before the fall itself.”
“Actually, it seems that hasn’t stopped ever since.”
Upon Pardue’s comment, the Detective noticed some shapes next to the spot of red. Laid against the posts that held a perimeter of yellow tape around the site, there were large bags that were left around the area, keeping mostly clear of the damage. Looking closer, she could spot letters and notes, probably sent in from Moressatan citizens still mourning over the death of their governor. With there being about 8 bags surrounding the area from where the Detective could see, and the likely possibility it’s just letters they are filled with, it was clear that a massive chunk of the populace was deeply affected enough by Magnus’ murder. In the center, that the Detective could see more clearly, was a large, dried moat of blood that spread from the landing spot. Past the large spot were hundreds of smaller sprinklings of blood that also dried under the sun, strongly discoloring the white tile ground. In the center of all that blood, and clearly visible the more she examined the area, was a small indent into the ground, with hundreds of cracks that too spread from the center. The site, despite the blood having dried up and leaving only a highly visible coloring, it was still gruesome on implication alone, not helped by Pardue’s own recollection.
The more the Detective looked at it, the more she could mentally draw the imagery that had filled that empty spot during that night. She could envision a dead man, arms and legs spread against the stone tiles, his head turned, bloodied and broken. The fingers are limp, the hands slumped within the sleeves that are then torn and crumpled. His stomach and chest are bloated, ready to pop against the ground under him. Everything is flat against the ground, the body would be too damaged and broken to attempt lifting even limbs or neck up even an inch. With how dark that night would have been, and all the blood that clung to the body and spread across the ground, Magnus’ corpse would appear like a bloody boil against a pearl white face, ready to pop at even the slightest motion.
The Detective swayed a bit, her left eye twitching and her lungs taking in a swallow of air to suppress the body’s need to gag or vomit. She stopped imagining the scene, long enough to turn the subject elsewhere as she requested Pardue to continue.
“When exactly did this happen? And who noticed it first?”
Pardue states, “I believe it was around 2 or 3 in the morning, a little before we’d get a hinting of the sun rising. A guard working the north district patrol had walked on over until he saw the body, though I don’t know if he also saw Magnus fall before that. After that he notified any guard present, including our Black Road members who were volunteering as support during the riots.”
“Does the guard normally work patrols? For a center of government leadership there should be some security present to protect the area.”
“No, they only did this because of the riots. The guard, including the security and response branches, were sent to help deal with the chaos in the streets so as to prevent it from seeping into the district, as per the orders of the new Chief of the Guard at the time. Nearly everyone was sent out to provide support, with some volunteers left behind to keep watch in the area. Of course that doesn’t include the security that’s supposed to be working inside the building, but we didn’t hear anything about them until after the first reporting. I hope we can ask them about that once we head inside.”
“I’ll be sure it’s the first thing we ask.”
“Thank you.” Pardue calmly replied, looking over the blood before asking further, “Can you get anything from this?”
After a pause, the Detective shares her thoughts. “No, nothing worthy of noting yet, anyways. If the damage to the body was as bad as you made it sound, getting an exact idea of how his wounds were caused isn’t that easy. I won’t say anything on what it means if he was alive during the fall, not until we see where he had fallen from first. Chances are it may have occurred during a struggle, but again I won’t make any solid notes yet.”
Her thoughts brought aloud, the Detective takes out her PDA and takes several photos of the scene, circling around for multiple angles. With that done she takes a couple quick steps and begins to move away, relaxing a bit once the blood is out of her sight.
The group soon approaches the entrance to the building where the murder took place, nearing some guards that are posted. With the murder having occurred inside and out of the building, it is understandably tight. The guards hold their hands out to demand three to stop, with one asking straight out for any identification. Producing their badges for the guards to see, along with Pardue’s ID card, the guard that had initially talked to them pressed further.
“You from United Government?”
Monroe took it upon himself to be the one speaking, disclosing that, “Yes, we are. I’m Inspector David Monroe, and this is Detective Mariko Nobo, sent in from United colonial affairs to look over the Magnus case. With us is Chief Luke Pardue of the Black Road Guard, who’s here to accompany us on our investigation.”
“Appreciated. Practically the whole city is wanting for blood after that night. Almost upturned the guard’s trucks to find the murderer responsible.”
Pardue groaned slightly, “Can confirm. Had to send extra trucks out during the pick-up to distract the mob away from getting the suspects out for questioning. Did damage to one and it’s only just now out of repairs.”
The security guard looked genuinely surprised, “The Black Road Guard has them?”
“Yes, and we’re damn well going to make sure they stay with us until it’s all done.”
“Can’t be in a worse place, to be honest.”
“We give them hell just like the raiders, that’s what they deserve. At least until we find the ones responsible, then there’s nothing stopping us to give them the full punishment.”
“Damn…” The Guard whispered to himself, intimidated by Pardue’s harsh tone and expression.
“Right, well you’re allowed in. Keep your weapons clear in sight, and approach the front desk if you need any help. Magnus’ office is on the top public floor, there’s an elevator that leads straight to it, you can’t miss it.”
With their ID’s returned, the three are given entry into the building without further delay. As the group entered, the Detective gave a passing examination of the doorway that they came through. It was quite large, enough to let a Deltan to comfortably walk right through, with the doors themselves being able to slide in and out so as to allow visitors and workers through. Similarly, the rest of the main floor plaza was just as constructed.
The main plaza was approximately 3 storeys high, with a circular platform built over the area, cut so as to give access to an elevator tube going straight up into the upper floors. After the initial platform, there seemed to be 3 or 4 additional platforms with the same amount of space, and with each platform being thick in construction, and supported greatly by columns of metal. Everything about the plaza and the floors above was cool, from the pleasingly freezing temperature contrasting against the harsh heating outside, to the blue-tinted metals and glass that make up the walls, platforms and windows. The central elevator tube was clear, lighted so as to appear brighter and glossier than the rest of the interior. Plastered on the surrounding walls of the main plaza were epic artistic depictions of the history behind the founding and development of the colony, some of the work literally popping off the wall through the careful usage of layering and sculpture mixed in with the paints. It featured, from left to right, and from a far off sighting, the initial landings of the first colonists upon the world of Aurora; the creation of the docks of Calberi; the great Black Road being made; the meeting between mankind and Deltan; the creation of Moresatta as a mining colony; then the growths it had made since its founding. Informational plaques are set in front of each section, short enough only for humans to comfortably read. Past the walls, with massive doorways on both ends, lead to the surrounding rooms and sections that make up the main floor, likely for those working within the building.
At the center was a circular table, with an empty space in the center for multiple greeters to work from, all of whom are human. Atop their desks are brochures, maps, informational documents and large trays filled with invoices for subjects like complaints to scheduling a meeting with a worker.
The three approach the desk, as suggested, with Monroe introducing himself quite formally, “Greetings. I am Inspector David Monroe from United Colonial Affairs, this is Detective Mariko Nobo and Black Road Guard chief Luke Pardue. We’re to investigate the murder of Magnus Cross.”
Instantly, the greeter was overjoyed, giving a sigh of relief, “Thank you. Thank you so much for coming. We knew someone would look over it, just that it would be from United.”
“The Republic takes this matter with great seriousness, and rest assured that we’ll solve this problem for you with the best involved. I just need access to your public records involving some individuals, as well to the floor where the murder took place.”
“Of course. The records for citizens can be found in our filing-center on the third Plaza floor. Our security and a data manager can meet you there to help you with your business. As for the Governor’s office, you can use the elevator behind me to go there straight away. It’s the only access outside the stairways, so please don’t wander off. A couple security guards will be sent in to assist you there if you need any info.”
The Detective interjects, asking, “Are you sure there aren’t any additional elevators, such as one for service or delivery?”
“No, the other elevators go into all floors except the Governor’s. Same with the service lift, but that’s only accessible from the back by contractors and service workers after going through a security screening.”
“Those service lifts, they’re built to handle an extreme amount of weight, right? Say, a Deltan?”
“I guess? We never got a Deltan up that way, they only stay in the plaza floors and move up through the grand stairways. The heaviest stuff we know we’ve brought up that lift are air conditioning and power supply units. Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s it.” Mariko bowed her head a bit, her lips curling up into a bit of a smile. Meanwhile Pardue looked annoyed, and narrowing his sight at the Detective.
Monroe gives a bow himself, leading the group towards the elevator, explaining his plan that, “I guess it’s natural that we split here. I’ll collect as much information as I can on our suspects, perhaps anything extra that may connect to our case. Call if you need anything over there, I’ll look it up if you need it.”
“I’ll do it as soon as I can. Best of luck!” She says with some excitement, being the first to move to the elevator and calling it down. It swiftly descends into the main floor, the lift itself being cylindrical in shape, highly smoothed out, and with a chrome railing for support. It’s relatively small, only allowing humans to use it with a party of at least 8 to fit comfortably inside.
Without hesitation she enters, looking noticeably happier. Pardue follows while Inspector Monroe walks away for the records.
Saying no word, the Detective activates the elevator, closing its doors and taking her and Pardue up to the Governor’s floor. As they are lifted up to the floor at a decent speed, the Detective breaks the silence between the two and casually asks of the chief, “So if you were a Deltan, and you wanted to murder the Governor, how would you get up to the floor? You’re too big to get on any of the elevators except the service lift, but you’re still too large to use the regular stairways. How would you do it?”
The Chief lets out a heavy groan, shifting his neck from side-to-side as he simply answers, “I’d find a way.”
“You can’t say that.” The Detective shoots back sharply, “There has to be a way, otherwise those Deltans are unconnected.”
“Maybe they hired someone to do the work for them. Everyone has a price.”
“You have no proof that they did that.”
“And you don’t have any proof to show that they’re involved either. I’m just pointing out how physically impossible it would be for any of the Deltans to be the ones responsible for the murder itself.”
“And of the others?”
“I’m… getting early ideas of who would and wouldn’t do it. I just need to see the room itself. With how small this lift is, and the lengths it would take to reach it normally, I’d wager very few people make a passing here, and that large groups are probably a rarity.”
The lift then stops before Pardue could say anything in response to the Detective, as the doors opened with a hiss to show a wide hallway leading into the office itself. The ground was metallic and glossy black, with a pale white rug running the center and into the room. From the ceiling to the walls, everything was a cool yet incredibly unsaturated dark gray purple, bringing the rug out strongly and giving a dour look to the chamber as a whole. Situated at the entrance to the room were a couple guards, stepping clear away from the room so as not to contaminate or alter it further.
The Detective steps in, approaching the main room slowly while her eyes move around to examine what she could. There was no damage to the hall itself, not even a scratch or some evidence that any resistance were met. Above her was a security camera, its red light flashing to indicate it was active, prompting her to stop and gain the attention of the guards.
“Was any footage collected from that?”
One of the guards is quick to give an answer, explaining, “We already checked and found nothing. All cameras in this floor, and the others, were remotely shut off during the night of the murder.”
“Remotely, huh?” The Detective wondered aloud, “I guess that suggest some technical know-how, or maybe an insider’s knowledge of the building.”
“A traitor within the Governor’s ranks?” Pardue asks somewhat, open to such a suggestion.
“Maybe, but it’s a decent likelyhood.”
The Detective delays no longer, finally walking into the room to see the office proper. Along the way she gives a passing glance at the door. Large and wide enough for humans to come in as a group, with no damage. There’s an electrical lock, but so far no signs of damage or tampering.
The office was oval in shape, wider than it was deep, with much of the floor constructed of the same white rug. The windows were dark and gray in its tint, so thick it made the surrounding mountain horizon a smudge that blended with the sky. The room would’ve been completely dark and grey hadn’t been for the hole in the window, revealing the vastly more colorful landscape, wherein a beam of light shines through. Said light shows a ghastly collection of blood splatters on the floor, which have also spread against the broken glass pane and other such furniture. The blood is much thicker in the center, with hundreds of splatters that disperse the more it moves away from the area, and a trail of droplets leading into hole. There’s no other splatters around, at least not visible from the entrance. All the visible carnage starts and ends right before the hole in the window, going nowhere else.
The rest of the room is nothing special. Aside from the hole, there’s little else to be worth getting interested in, which was curious to the Detective. To the right there was a shin-high tinted glass table and a pair of long leather seats to accompany it; a desk that was completely empty on the surface, a trio of simplified seats next to it; and opposite all that was a stone statue of a long-haired, rope-wearing woman with a staff in hand, the only object of interest outside of the blood. She came closer to the desk and saw more of how empty it was.
“This office doesn’t look any lived in. No photos, no files, not even a desk-light to use. Aside from the statue, it feels like this place was just in the middle of being moved into, not the kind of place that was being used by the governor of a city.”
She calls out to the guards, “Has this room been cleaned out since the murder?”
Both guards confidently deny such involvement, causing the Detective to circle around the desk, finding the drawer and thus prompting her to open it. Inside there was only a gun, clean and seemingly untouched. She carefully uses her fingers to lift the bottom end, gently pulling the magazine to find it full, further establishing how unused the gun was. Then, just as carefully, she placed the gun back and closed the drawer, thinking aloud with Pardue nearby.
“He had a gun, but he never used it. If he was at his desk, and a killer was coming through the door, he would have enough time to reach for the gun and use it. Yet it’s still here, so either he didn’t have the time to get it; he couldn’t take it out due to a threat; or he was taken out by surprise, perhaps by someone he knew.”
Pardue was quick to add, however, that, “The elevator was a bit loud though. No way anybody didn’t hear that.”
“Exactly, so that means that he was possibly aware of the murderer. From the elevator to opening the door, assuming it was unlocked, there would be an open enough opportunity to grab the gun; but he didn’t. Which means he was planning on meeting the individual responsible for the murder, likely not knowing their intention. The murderer could have been an acquaintance, maybe a close friend or official considering the timing of the night with a riot getting increasingly worse outside. It would certainly have to be someone that would be close enough to allow them entry, to not warrant an attack on the victim’s end, and to jump over all of the security screening that should have been present during a city-wide riot.”
She slowly walked back around the desk, circling to the front where the blood was on display. Continuing on with her open declaration of the examinations so far, she gradually followed the blood, starting from the darker origin spot to the trailing droplets by the window.
“It would have to be a surprise attack. There’s an excessive amount of brutality here, and it’s all centered around this spot. It’s not like they fought around, as all the furniture is still up and there’s no signs of a struggle that would have moved around the room. I’d wager he was brought down, flat against the ground, as much of the splatter is done on the ground level. Any blood on the window likely caused by the shards cutting at the body when he was thrown around. I also bet that was likely beaten to death with a blunt object, more than a cutting weapon.”
“What reason would you say that?” Pardue asks, skeptical.
“Well, firstly the victim would most likely have died much sooner from bleeding out or from a nicked throat or artery if it was a cutting weapon, and if they died sooner the murderer wouldn’t have gone so far as to thrown them out. I’d imagine the killer was quite passionate about this. He or she probably threw them out in a rage, long after the victim was brutally damaged by the initial assault.”
“Second…” She continued on, moving around the spots of blood and kneeling close to the shin-high table. She looked there, reaching under and pulling something out: a perfectly round metallic orb, as large as her fist, completely red and yet coated in blood that was much thicker on it than the drops on the blood. Much of it stuck to her glove, leaving globules that has since hung onto it for quite some time. “I think this may have been the murder weapon that was used. The killer probably grabbed this, off the table or desk perhaps, and proceeded to beat the victim over and over. It’s a bit heavy and solid, so this would have done a lot of damage if brought down hard enough.”
The Detective looks it over for a moment, turning it to see every bit that she can.
The orb was somewhat transparent, showing a slightly smaller orb under the surface. There were no grooves or marks to it, it was completely and utterly smooth. The surface was also glossy, with a strong and prominent red that shined behind the drenchings of blood. No fingerprints were visible, nor was there any other evidence to point towards the identity of the killer. Finished with her examination, she held the ball up, asking politely of the guards, “Can we take this to the fort? For future inspection, of course.”
“Take it, sure.” One of the guards casually answered back, the other nodding in agreement while offering a cloth from their pocket to Pardue. In turn, Pardue carefully takes the orb, wrapping it up in the cloth as best as possible.
The Detective began to wipe her hands, finding a napkin in her coat pocket to clean the blood off her glove. She looked towards the glass hole, then on to the city outside. Coming closer to the glass once again, she could peer out and see that, beyond the northern district there was far more to Moresatta than initially realized.
Stretching on for miles, the city of Moresatta covered a great deal of distance that covered the rolling hills. Mariko saw the wall that circled around the district she was in, massive in both size and length. It was tall, and concavely shaped in such a way to prevent any attempt from crawling over. Immediately beyond the wall was what seemed to be the mining and storage districts to the East, and more buildings to the West. The mining district was built around a massive hole in the ground, with two large factories, billowing out smoke that stretched over the skies. Even where she was there was ‘smoke’: the rest mists of sand blowing in the wind, coupled with the strong heat, emanated a thick atmosphere of red that spread over the city. That atmosphere almost hid what was beyond the mines, and that vastly covered more land than the either the northern city or the factories: the sheer amount of shanties that stretched for the majority of Moresatta. It was hard to discern the details, yet she could nevertheless see how crude and dirtied the lands were over there. Even from afar she could see a great deal of disorganization and ruin, where every single building, en masse, hugged the hills intimately.
“That’s Southside.” Pardue informed the Detective plainly, “The true face of Moresatta.”
The Detective simply nodded where she stood, replying softly, “Perhaps we should go there sometimes. Might be worth a look.”
