Part 49: 00:23-Around 2:00: Cave Story
Chapter 49: 00:23-Around 2:00: Cave Story
PERCEPTION (HEARING): [Medium: Success] It’s like a thousand radio stations are being blasted into your head all at once, but her words are the only ones you can make out.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Can’t say it’s a pleasure, officer. I was really hoping *not* to make your acquaintance. But—here we are.”
SUGGESTION: [Medium: Success] The voice coming through the whirlwind of pain is not malicious. She doesn’t want to hurt you—but she has to.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: I’m using a pale latitude compressor. You and your partner have been caught in its field.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “*Saw my equations*? She snorts. “You’ve been sniffing through my lorry, right? I expected as much. I *am* a bit surprised you knew what you were looking at…”
PALE LATITUDE COMPRESSOR: “Hhhhhzzzzzzzssss…. 136841… hhhhhzzzzzzzzzzssss…. 3781303… hhhhhzzzzzzzsssss… hzzzzsssss…”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Right behind you, officer.” Eyes closed, the lieutenant is doubled over. He’s still alive and breathing.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “A pale latitude compressor is used to sort of… make the pale more manageable. With a lot of these, you can force a radio signal grid on the pale—literally crunch the distance across it. Signals are relayed across a series of repeater stations fixed to buoys.” She pauses. “Not a fun job, manning those stations. All alone out there in the pale, people lose their minds in just a few years.”
EMPATHY: [Legendary: Success] Sounds like she knew someone who used to man one of those stations. But she won’t tell you about her. Boy, you’re one empathetic police officer to have guessed even that right now.
KIM KITSURAGI: “So, what we are experiencing is… a concentration of radio waves…” He gestures toward something with great effort.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Precisely. This is an industrial-strength paraboloid. It’s meant for forcing dimensions on something that doesn’t *have* them. Needless to say, the frequencies used are… out of this world. At the upper limit is the large prime number generator station. It’s used specifically for pale latitude compression. That’s why you may be hearing some numbers. But you also might hear—or think you’re hearing—local radio chatter.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “I built it myself.” She nods toward her torture device.
INTERFACING: [Challenging: Success] And she’s proud of it, too. As she ought to be. This is way beyond your abilities.
KIM KITSURAGI: “That’s illegal. I’m guessing it’s patented… But we’re beyond that, aren’t we?”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “No—once I shut down the compressor, the pain will end.” She hesitates. “It may take a few minutes for you to steady yourself, though—it’s a bit like waking out of a very confusing dream.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Yeah, let’s not talk about *that* shit. You were hunting me and fell into my trap instead. That’s all there is to say about it.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: If you’ve got something *really* important to say, you can do it through the white noise.”
PALE LATITUDE COMPRESSOR: “236189281… If you’re looking for a deal on mattrsses… SUHSUHSUHSPEEDFRRRR… 21567… 32971047302819… Oh Rosaline, oh Rosaline…”
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant clutches his head, grimacing. “Damn… this…
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Goddammit.” She regards you and Kim with sudden sympathy. “Fine, if you really want to talk, I can dial it down. I’ve also got a gun, by the way.” She steps reluctantly out of the shadows. The pain lessens.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Medium: Success] The gun she’s carrying is a two-barreled front-loader—not like the murder weapon.
PAIN THRESHOLD: [Easy: Success] Well, it doesn’t *feel* much better, but you can form sentences now. Thinking doesn’t seem to hurt as much.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “So you found my shack, huh? I’m not surprised.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “So nice.” She smiles a little smile. “That’s one knife I didn’t want to find in my back.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “I was. Before I caught you in the pale latitude compressor. I’m fine now.”
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] That’s her admitting the bullet was an emergency exit.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “No, I didn’t do it. I only helped stage the lynching. Thought I doubt that makes much of a difference to *you*. Who ratted me out, by the way? Was it Titus? No,” she hesitates, “he wouldn’t have broken first…”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Oh.” She smiles sadly. “Well, I guess I always knew she was a *survivor* above all else.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Aw, fuck. Took some convincing my ass. And those guys *liked* me—I know it. If this is what happens to people whom people like…”
VOLITION: [Medium: Success] A dull despair is creeping into her voice.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “I did, didn’t I? And now you’ve come for me.” She scoffs. “But fuck them all the same.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Like what?” She adjusts her grip on her gun. “I already told you I didn’t do it.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Yeah, sure, and I didn’t like Wild Pines sending in those foreign hirelings—me and a fuckton of other people around here.”
DRAMA: [Challenging: Success] I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I don’t think she’s perjuring herself.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “No, not since I was 14 and hanging out at the only diner in Dardanne. Haven’t been into low-risk, no-reward games since moving to the city.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Not murder mysteries, either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Why are *you* so hung up on elevators?”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “I’m not really into old shit for old shit’s sake.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Don’t know it. But also…” She frowns, studying your face.
REACTION SPEED: [Medium: Success] Evaluating your competence as a police officer.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “…the shot couldn’t have come from the roof. Or we would have all heard it downstairs.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “She has a… point there. No one mentioned…” The pain stops him from finishing the sentence.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Sure don’t.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “A breech-loader?”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “No.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “A Nachtwey 80 front-loader. Two-barreled—not really what you were looking for, I’m guessing.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “What the hell, man?!” She laughs. “Yeah, why not? I’ve gotten worse.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Nope. Look, she has an *effect* on people. That je ne sais quoi that makes it impossible not to look at her when she walks into the room—and very difficult to look away. But—travel enough, and you realize…”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “That’s a very sentimental way of putting it. We both had *pasts* we didn’t want to catch up with us. And we enjoyed listening to music together. Why not go on a road trip?”
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant watches her expectantly, occasionally shaking from the pain.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Okay, fine.” She rolls her eyes. “I was into her. Klaasje was into me too, for a time, I know it—we even fooled around once. And, yeah, after that I thought maybe we could make a go of it.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: She rolls her eyes again. “If that’s what she wants on the record, so be it. “I’m not about to go into details for you to jerk off to later.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “She rejected me with some wishy-washy bullshit about how she was confused because she felt so close to me and valued my friendship so much, and how guilty she felt for leading me on… I knew that wasn’t the whole story, but thought, fine, I’ll take it and move on.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Yeah, one time when we’d both been drinking, I said some heated things about how dangerous her patterns with men were.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Go ahead—it’s your body.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Hngh…”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “It’s very powerful. I used it to tune into RCM frequencies. That’s how I knew to be prepared for your arrival.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “So now I’m leaving Revolutionary symbols around… Come on.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: She shakes her head, slowly. “So, heart-of-gold Tommy fucked me over too… Never trust a musician.”
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] That really comes as a blow to her.
ARIST: [Challenging: Success] You lie, not for her or even yourself. No, this is for Tommy. This is to at least try to do the right thing by him even you’ve already lost him forever.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Okay, great, you got into my lorry on your own. What now? You’re going to arrest me for drug trafficking?” A bitter smile.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Man, it’s to get *away* from all that murderous shit that I left Jamrock—my previous employer—for the Union.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Hnghh…” The lieutenant is unable to articulate his question.
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] She deliberately avoided naming the mob she worked for. You might be able to find this out later.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “How should I know? As I keep saying, he already had a bullet in his head when I got to him, and there hasn’t been any useful gossip over the radio…”
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): [Medium: Success] Those rings around her eyes, her tired voice—she’s been staying up late listening in on the conversations criss-crossing Martinaise.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Police radio? You’ve been following the case?”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Who hasn’t?” She shrugs. “You know, I can still see him there, in Klaasje’s room, lying on his side.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: She eyes you warily, as though gauging your sincerity.
KIM KITSURAGI: “It’s okay… We just want to… hnghhhhh…” He struggles to finish the sentence.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Alright, don’t kill yourself over it. I was shooting the shit with Hardie and the boys over a few beers, like always. Then Klaasje comes in, all pale and shuddering…”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “No, I really didn’t. She’s not that easy to read. I just assumed she’d done too much blow. It wouldn’t be a first for her. But—no such luck. She was in some *deep* shit. She asked me to come upstairs—the merc she’d been going with was lying on the bedroom floor, dead. I knew she couldn’t get the authorities involved. So, yeah…”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Yeah. In cold blood. It really surprised me—how quickly she was able to get ahold of herself once we got up there. It was like she was another person. The *party girl* was gone. She asked me to help her drag him into the shower so she could wind the shower head around his neck. To fake lividity. Then she dressed him while I went to get the Hardie boys.”
VOLITION: [Challenging: Success] Klaasje knew exactly what she was doing. You can’t remain calm under pressure otherwise.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “As I keep telling you cops, we didn’t hear anything downstairs. No gunshot, nothing.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “But… even if this is true…” The lieutenant forces himself to finish the sentence. “Weren’t you worried this ‘lynching’ might lead to…”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “…war?” She purses her lips. “The thought crossed my mind. But the mercenary’s death was going to have repercussions either way. Although, the way things are going…”
DRAMA: [Medium: Success] She doesn’t want to talk about this, but not because she has something to hide—she doesn’t want the guilt.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “I saw *you* roll into town. I wasn’t about to stick around for questioning by a goddamn La Puta Madre agent.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: She looks at you quizzically. “Yes—you. Everyone says you’re his peone. His ‘Human Can Opener.’”
ARIST: [Medium: Success] You can sense your body straining, your knees about to give up on you. You fumble in your cloak for your stash of Nosaphed and shovel a tab or two into your mouth as quickly as you can, hands shaking desperately.
That’s code for “we hit 1 health, so I healed.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Everyone in Jamrock. The cops, the criminals… Why do you think I’m hold up in here with a goddamn death ray, waiting for you?”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Harry Du Bois,” she replies quickly. “One corrupt motherfucker with the disco pants and the funny tie. Agent to La Puta Madre.”
ARIST: [Formidable: Success] “Funny tie”? You traded that for the cryptid bolo long ago. You miss it, in a way. Just you, Horrific Necktie, and Kim, taking on the world! But, uh, maybe think about that while your brain is not in the process of exploding.
VOLITION: So she knows your name. That doesn’t mean you’re on the take. Criminals make up bogeyman stories about cops all the time.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Yeah, sure.”
DRAMA: [Easy: Success] She doesn’t believe you.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “You’ve been to my lorry. You think the biggest player in Jamrock appreciates competition?” She pauses. “And now I have Harry Can Opener in my lair. Fucking Titus…”
SUGGESTION: She’s not going to change her mind that easily. She still perceives you as a threat.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “One of the guys seemed chipper, a blond, the other had a brooding something-or-other about him… And the woman… the woman was the only one in uniform. All were carrying.” She narrows her eyes. “That sound about right?”
LOGIC: [Medium: Success] *No* idea who these people are. Literally.
ESPRIT DE CORPS: Satellite-Officer Vicquemare looks out of the window grimly, then puts his coffee down and turns to Patrol Officer Minot. “We can either take a room here in the Whirling or go home for today.”
ARIST: [Easy: Success] *Please* tell me you didn’t just confirm to her that you have no backup.
PALE LATITUDE COMPRESSOR: Hhhhhhhhzzzzzzzzzzz……… friction lock set… Zzzzzzzzz… Don’t leave me here, please Celice!
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Don’t know anything about it. No one’s been around since I set up camp. But I’m sure I’m not the first vagabond to…” Her voice trails off into white noise in your head. It feels like an aneurysm approaching.
Pop another pill…
One shot. Make it count…
ARIST: [Challenging; Success] Pain coursing through your mind itself, you take one unsteady step towards the compressor. The mere act of shifting your weight as you lower your foot back onto the cold ground causes another spike of agony. You can feel your heart beating and the pain growing again with every wild thrum of blood sent to your head.
ARIST: You keep moving, blocking out the cries of your ailing brain, even as it takes what seems like ages to summon another step.
ARIST: You stop and brace yourself for what’s to come. As you have walked closer to the compressor so too has the pain grown. You will surely collapse if you attempt to walk the rest of the way. Only one thing to do, then…
ARIST: You can’t even look at the compressor, you can barely keep your eyes open for even a second. No matter. You keep forcing them shut even as you brace your knees for the leap, taking your hands off your ears in midair so you can swipe your arm to knock over the compressor before you hit the ground. You’re in more than one kind of pain when you slam into the wet sand, but you hear the compressor fall over. Relief washes over you as the effects fade out…
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant hunches, recovering. “All good, officer. Be careful.”
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: She looks at the machine, assessing the damage. Her hand trembles.
ARIST: [Easy: Success] Oh, *fuck*.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Problem-solving,” she mutters.
KIM KITSURAGI: “Ma’am, put the gun down. That’s not the solution to your problems. You are…”
We have to act fast.
Barely good enough, but good enough all the same.
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: She stares at you, frozen, the gun still in her mouth, eyes filled with dark intensity. Then something shifts in her.
EMPATHY: Gratitude. Doubt. She’s still ready to go…
RUBY, THE INSTIGATOR: “Day of miracles…” she says, pulling the gun out of her mouth, eyes still fixed on you. Then she turns her gaze to the tunnel behind you. “I’ll take it.”
Let’s investigate what Ruby left behind, then.
Enough Health medicine to make up for the two pills we had to pop in there, nice.
ARIST: [Legendary: Success] That crack Ruby made about the necktie really got to you. How could you betray it? Better put it back on immediately.
INSTIGATOR’S TENT: The tent looks old but well-maintained. In the darkness of the tent—a rolled-up sleeping bag, cooking utensils, some books and a kerosene lamp.
INSTIGATOR’S TENT: Assorted softcovers, mostly pulp horror. A motor carriage lies buried in the snow on one cover, on another—a ghost airship. You also see a collection of radio enthusiast magazines.
INSTIGATOR’S TENT: You pocket the worn brown leather journal.
INLAND EMPIRE: [Medium: Success] A trusted friend left behind…
Kim’s right.
RUBY’S JOURNAL: It’s made of full-grain leather. The lower left corner of the back cover sports an embossed brand name: “SCHNELLER.”
RUBY’S JOURNAL: The large cursive of someone who writes quickly and confidently.
RUBY’S JOURNAL: It’s a mix of logistical notes, diagrams, and personal reflections, all dated.
RUBY’S JOURNAL: Hard to tell exactly—it’s mostly noted down in code. Looks like contact information, quantities, directions.
RUBY’S JOURNAL: Short, wry observations of people and places—probably a way to pass the time on the road. Also, what appear to be attempts to sort through some difficult decisions. There are a few passages with many questions in them.
RUBY’S JOURNAL: Nothing on March 4th… March 5th, though: “Well, *that’s* bound to come back and bite me in the ass. I’m bad at this—loyal to a fault. Except… But that’s another matter entirely.”
RUBY’S JOURNAL: That name isn’t mentioned as far as you can tell.
RUBY’S JOURNAL: “Great. M’s peone is coming to town, no doubt to investigate the lynching, but also—I feel it in my gut—to finally put a bullet in my head. While I’m napping in my lorry or on a smoke break… Well, I won’t stick around just to twist my own neck by constantly looking over my shoulder. Then again, isn’t that what I’ve been doing ever since I got the call?”
REACTION SPEED: [Medium: Success] “The call”? Did M call her personally? Why?
RUBY’S JOURNAL: “Been holed up here for three days now. I’m used to being alone and all, but—I don’t know when I’ll be able to leave, or if I’ll be ratted out. They *will* rat me out, of course. I’ve made it a point to believe the best in people (the boys, for example), but—experience tells me… Did M truly feel betrayed by me? I was feeling threatened—he’d have to know if he threatened people, they’d take measures to protect themselves. Even I know that. Economic measures first of all. Gotta make a living, right? I can still hear his voice in the receiver, taste the plastic…”
RUBY’S JOURNAL: The most recent entry is from today. It reads:
KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant taps on the page. “It looks like she might have been… framed?”
KIM KITSURAGI: “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that—we have other reasons to arrest her.”
KIM KITSURAGI: He looks you straight in the eye for a moment, then sighs. “No, I don’t think you are. Ask someone in your precinct if you want to be sure.”
DRAMA: [Medium: Success] He truly does not believe you are. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so trusting…
KIM KITSURAGI: “Maybe she had an accomplice. Either way, we need to keep an eye on her.”
Before we return to the Whirling, we have three skill points and we aim to spend them all. We put one point into Endurance so as to potentially prevent our Health from being precipitously drained by a single conversation again like it was with Ruby. We put the other two points into Hand/Eye Coordination and Half Light.
And so, we begin our long walk back towards the Whirling.
HORRIFIC NECKTIE: Oh… you will see. (It feels like the tie is rubbing itself against your chest like a cat in heat.)
ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Oh goddammit, you just put this tie back on and it’s already getting frisky? You’re beginning to remember why you took it off in the first place…
HORRIFIC NECKTIE: The bottle opens with a silent, mysterious hiss. The fumes rising from its mouth are as crisp as the northern winds.
SHIVERS: [Medium: Success] Howling somewhere, lashing the boardwalk with brine and rain—an ancient warmth crawls under your skin.
VOLITION: [Challenging: Success] You hold the jar out in front of you like it’s a venomous snake, trying to avoid inhaling any of its thick fumes. You’ve been sober a full 24 hours, don’t ruin it now.
ARIST: What? Yes you did!
HORRIFIC NECKTIE: As the necktie slides into the purifying liquid, large stains of grease rise off from it and float to the surface. There they quickly dissolve and disappear completely.
EMPATHY: [Medium: Success] He’s struggling to keep silent, but finally seems to give up.
KIM KITSURAGI: “I’ve got to ask…” he says, a peculiar look in his eyes. “What are you doing?”
Um, okay?
So, let’s continue back to the Whirling. We have urgent business there that can’t wait even a moment. Klaasje lied. About most everything. And we need to talk.
No time for sleep! Only justice!
Running!
To the Whirling-In-Rags!
I’m running out of things to say!
Okay, we’re almost there. But what’s this thought?
INLAND EMPIRE: Your old friend has prepared you for this—at great cost to himself. Make sure you have the spirit bomb in your hand when *shit goes south*.
ARIST: [Easy: Success] What are they all even talking about? What’s waiting for us ahead? Don’t get so ominous, guys. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Because you are completely incapable of following simple instructions, you equip your gun instead of the spirit bomb. Whatever, it’ll do.
We’ll just, uh… keep it out for now, thanks.
ARIST: [Easy: Success] The glowing neon of the Whirling’s sign is already close enough to cast your skin with a faint red light. But as you draw even closer, you realize there’s a commotion outside… what’s going on?
ARIST: Oh no.