Part 50: The Tribunal
Chapter 50: The Tribunal
We were too late.
KORTENAER: “SHUT UP!!! You’re not gonna talk yourself out of this, loincloth-shit fuck!”
ELIZABETH: “This is a misunderstanding. Nothing irreversible has happened yet. You can just return to your unit and forget all about this.”
ELIZABETH: “You’re all drunk, come to your senses!” She sounds very sure of herself. “You won’t gun down seven people in the middle of the street. This isn’t a frontier town or a jungle outpost.”
TITUS HARDIE: “Easy, Lizzie…” His voice is almost gentle. “Let me handle it. “I know guys like this. I’m sure we can come to a peaceful agreement. Ain’t that right, fellas?”
AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] He is facing overwhelmingly superior firepower—and he knows it.
REACTION SPEED: [Medium: Success] *You warned them*, whispers a tiny, arrogant voice in the back of your skull. You warned them about exactly this.
VOLITION: [Challenging: Success] This is no time for gloating. Lives are at stake.
PERCEPTION (HEARING): “…nest in you abdominal cavity, like a little wild mouse…” The masked man’s words are barely intelligible, but you can hear them.
HALF LIGHT: [Easy: Success] The fuck are you even looking at here? Is this what Death looks like? That masked face is scaring the piss out of you. Don’t look too deeply into his eyes or it might cost you your eternal soul.
HAND/EYE COORDINATION: This third one—he is the most dangerous of them all. Heavily armed.
KIM KITSURAGI: He nods. “If this turns into a firefight, we should take him out first.”
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] I think he calmed down a bit…
ARIST: [Challenging: Success] It suddenly occurs to you that you don’t even have three *bullets*. What are you going to do when this turns ugly?
HALF LIGHT: [Easy: Success] You’re going to be in the thick of it.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Formidable: Success] As you should be. That’s your job.
KORTENAER: “Oh yeah, welcome to the fucking party.” He looks around. You’re probably gonna get killed too, I don’t give a shit if you’re cops.”
ELIZABETH: “No one is going to kill anyone. Let’s just put the guns down and talk like civilized human beings.”
RUUD HOENKLOEWEN: With a wordless gurgle, the killer loads his long rifle…
KORTENAER: The leader gives a small nod to the helmeted man. Suddenly the grip of your side-arm feels comforting and warm in your hand. Feels like it’s saying: Do it!
HAND/EYE COORDINATION: [Medium: Success] Shoot him in the mouth. Shoot him before he shoots you.
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] No, wait! It’s good you have that gun. It really is. Just soften him up first. Present an argument!
SUGGESTION: [Medium: Success] Even if it comes to a fight it’s *always* a good idea to drag it out first. Get under his skin.
COMPOSURE: [Medium: Success] I don’t know about this getting under his skin. What if he gets under *yours*? I’m barely keeping your hand from trembling here…
DE PAULE: “Ruud? Ruud is the killer—” The armoured woman smiles a vicious smile. “Ruud ‘The Killer’ Hoenkloewen—he doesn’t talk much.”
KORTENAER: “The gunner.” He gestures toward himself. “The radist.” He nods towards the woman. “The killer.” He points to the figure clad entirely in ceramic plate. “What do you think he *does*?”
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): About *fifty* little stick figures—all of them black. Plus two little white ones in the end.
ENCYCLOPEDIA: [Medium: Success] These men served in Semenine… the native islanders…
KORTENAER: “That’s right.” He stares at you with watery eyes. “Plenty of kipts here in Revachol too.”
EUGENE: “T, let’s fucking *do* it,” the man presses through his teeth—his hand is on his belt.
TITUS HARDIE: “Gene…”
KORTENAER: “How fucking *convenient*…” He gives you a drunken stare—then puts his hand on the gun.
KORTENAER: “You think I’m fucking *stupid*, cop?” There’s a dangerous gleam in his eye. “What if I just shot one of your pals right now, huh?” He points his gun at Elizabeth. “How about the kipt? Tell me it was a magic fucking sniper one more time…”
KORTENAER: “You’re *lying*. De Paule heard it.” He doesn’t move the weapon.
HAND/EYE COORDINATION: A Kiejl Model 40 revolver. Eight rounds in the barrel. The gun slowly sways in his hand—from the inebriation.
PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Easy: Success] The shot rings in your ears—a low tinny ring. Then the Hardie boys yell something…
ELIZABETH: The young woman stands and looks behind her. The shot has flown over her head—crashing a small pane of the glass window behind her.
KORTENAER: The man looks at his revolver and smiles: “I missed.”
DE PAULE: “I know what I heard, Korty!” The radio operator looks at him. “They said they killed him. They said it was a good way to end a Sunday night.”
KORTENAER: “Nah…” He wipes the sweat from his brow. “I’m clear as day. Fucking government ordained super-soldier…”
DE PAULE: “Enough already! What is this?!” The woman’s voice is furious. “We didn’t come here to fucking chat!”
KORTENAER: “You think I care what that company cunt thinks?” He laughs. It’s a hollow laughter.
KORTENAER: The man stares at you with bloodshot eyes, a bull ready to charge—he’s not listening, but looking for an opening…
KORTENAER: “She’s fucking GONE!” The shout echoes back from the Whirling windows. “She fucking sailed off! You’re *alone*.”
TITUS HARDIE: “Stay cool, don’t do anything stupid,” Titus shouts to his men in the background.
KORTENAER: “The company bitch is gone. Lely’s gone. Fuck are we still doing in this shithole?” He looks around, tired suddenly—sad even.
SHANKY: “Guys, I, uh…” The little guy breaks formation. “I’d just get in the way. I don’t even have a gun.”
ARIST: [Legendary: Success] Oh, this is some weak shit, Dennis! I should have expected some horsepiss like this from you!
EMPATHY: [Formidable: Success] No. You’re just as scared as he is. At least there’s one less person in the line of fire now.
KORTENAER: “Who the fuck is that?”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Klaasje—the woman upstairs? Where is she?”
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER: “She LEFT! Her room’s cleaned out—right before these assholes showed up!”
ARIST: [Medium: Success] Oh, *fuck*! Well, that act of mercy bit us in the ass something fierce!
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] You know, in hindsight…
DRAMA: [Challenging: Success] I told you not to trust her, sire.
KIM KITSURAGI: “We should have arrested her…” The lieutenant whispers, his eyes still on the armed mercenaries.
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] You can *feel* how upset he is with himself. Just for a second. Then the fear takes over and he’s back in the moment.
KORTENAER: “What always happens when you get good at your job. That name meant night raids, fucking extra-judicial funkytime… burned villages. Shit that sounds bad on the radio. The same thing happened when we were called whatever-the-fuck it was. Probably won’t be called *Krenel* for much longer either…” He looks around. “Not after this shit.”
KORTENAER: “Sergeant Major Raul Kortenaer—reporting in to burn this fucking mud hut to the ground!” He points at the Whirling-in-Rags…
PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Medium: Success] As he moves, the interlocking pieces of his armour click, softly.
LOGIC: [Easy: Success] …click, click, click! The realization comes to you, like a picture puzzle coming together: His name is Raul Kortenaer—the dead man’s name is Ellis Kortenaer. He’s *brothers* with the deceased!
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] No—probably foster brothers! Ellis was put into a foster home, remember…
KORTENAER: “Same fucking mudhut town too…” he looks around, then wipes his face with his armoured glove.
KIM KITSURAGI: “We researched him. We contacted the ICP and looked at his birth records. That was in there. And other things…”
KORTENAER: “They fucking put Lely in a lead compactor and now these cunts finished the job…” He waves at the gang huddled by the doors.
DE PAULE: “It’s a mind-fuck, Korty. He wasn’t put in a leaf compactor. They’re making it up to fuck with us.” She glances at him. “Major, permission to…”
KORTENAER: “Fuck do you mean *talker*?”
KIM KITSURAGI: “We’ve heard testimony. People say he was charismatic. A nice guy to be around.”
KORTENAER: “Yeah, he liked to chat up the natives. Share leaflets, squeeze a bit of kipt ass here and there. Great fucking idea that turned out to be…” He points toward the yard. “If Lely was here, he would spare the lot of you. Maybe shoot one for show. But me…” he points to himself. “I’m not a big fan of public affairs, clay-monkey. I’ll gun every one of you down for what you did.”
DE PAULE: “Ready to open fire, major. At your command.”
KORTENAER: He smiles, pulling his face in a strange way. “Baby blue, yeah… Like someone fucked up and put a baby’s eyes on a grown man.”
KORTENAER: “Find his killer?! Cop, his killer stands right there!” He waves at the men behind you. “Shitting his pants—and *you’re* standing in the way protecting them. I know what this tactic is, Silo Sam.” He stares at you, eyes pink from the alcohol—fingers tapping the pistol. “You’re gonna die for them. Right here. Today.”
AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] Don’t panic. You’ve gotten to him. You’ve bought time. Just don’t panic, and don’t let him know you’re panicking.
One try. Make it count.
REACTION SPEED: [Medium: Success] Time almost feels as if it’s standing still as you rapidly take in the crucial stimuli of the next several seconds…
BEAUTIFUL NECKTIE: In the fiery inferno you see your tie—coiling around the man’s neck. It is no longer horrific, but beautiful and *pure*.
BEAUTIFUL NECKTIE: One day a sad man walked into a clothing store. He looked really down. Like he hadn’t had fun in years. He needed someone to show him how to rock and roll again.
BEAUTIFUL NECKTIE: And from that moment on—we rode together. The rest of your clothes were still *normal* back then. But we took care of that soon enough.
BEAUTIFUL NECKTIE: Truthfully? Not a lot. I did everything a multi-patterned necktie can do to help a man. I mean, I tried to get you to do *all* the fun things:
KORTENAER: This guy? Well—his face has *cracked open* into a scream of terror. It looks like he’s performing some sort of a shamanistic dance… that requires you to be on fire?!
BEAUTIFUL NECKTIE: Yeah, his body contorts in a very disturbing manner—there’s no mincing words with this one. He’s dying a horrible painful death as you’re talking to your tie in your head.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Medium: Success] In your peripheral vision you catch the third man moving. You turn towards him. He’s aiming his rifle right at you.
KIM KITSURAGI: From the corner of your eye you see the lieutenant raise his pistol—and aim it at Ruud.
VISUAL CALCULUS: [Medium: Success] He’s trying to find a straight line of sight before the rifleman can take you out. In the background, the leader is still on fire…
RUUD HOENKLOEWEN: You stare down the barrel of the gun. You see Ruud’s mask behind it—his eye in the slit of the helmet. Like a camera lens focusing on you.
HAND/EYE COORDINATION: [Medium: Success] 0.4 seconds remain. There are six little black dots in the tip of the barrel, like a honeycomb. This is a *nock cannon*. It shoots six rounds in one pull of the trigger.
ENDURANCE: Is there anything—*anything* we could use to protect this frail body? That gun will tear us to pieces.
PAIN THRESHOLD: [Easy: Success] Ow.
REACTION SPEED: A volcano of burning pain erupts from your left shoulder.
VISUAL CALCULUS: [Medium: Success] He’s aiming for the eye slot in Ruud’s helmet. An extremely difficult shot…
EMPATHY: [Formidable: Success] He has to. The rifleman will fire at you again.
INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] OH GOD! WATCH OUT!
REACTION SPEED: The Hardie boys are screaming, fighting, dying. Someone jumps over you—nearby gunfire shatters glass.
GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER: “STOP!!!”
REACTION SPEED: …it’s all gone. Open your eyes now. You have to see what’s happening!
KIM KITSURAGI: “Yes! Keep talking!” The lieutenant pushes down on your wound, hard. “Stay awake! Look at me!” But you can’t. It’s so hard. Your eyelids grow heavy and the sounds ever more distant. And a cold comes over you. Kim, too, is somewhere far away. Almost gone… when suddenly! You sense something behind him…
ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Know. Please, just know.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: [Formidable: Success] He will. You’ve shared too much for him not to.
