Precipice - Revision history

Apheori at 23:11, 3 November 2016

2016-11-03T23:11:44Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 23:11, 3 November 2016
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			Prequel to Hunters Song...

			= Heap =

	== Part 0 ==		== Part 0 ==

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	"There's always a point, and always a story to tell." She took Carter's head in her hands and pointed his face toward hers. "Look. You're worth something. You're brilliant and alone, and you've lost so much, but this will not be your end."		"There's always a point, and always a story to tell." She took Carter's head in her hands and pointed his face toward hers. "Look. You're worth something. You're brilliant and alone, and you've lost so much, but this will not be your end."

			== Consultant ==

			<screenplay>
			RAHAH
			You're speaking to his sense of vengeance, aren't you?

			SOREN
			Revenge is a powerful motivator.

			RAHAH
			It's a stupid one. It sets people on fire and burns them out, and then they have nothing left.

			SOREN
			You sound like a Magi.

			RAHAH
			Pfft. They might have been right about that one, but their solution wasn't much good.
			Give him something to live for, by all means, but once that fire is lit, you'll need something just as powerful to put it out cleanly later. Can you give him love? Can you give him his family?

			SOREN
			He destroyed his family. One child dead, and two others and their mother abandoned? Do you really think there's anything here worth keeping, once he burns out again?

			RAHAH
			There's always something, if only you grow it proper. One of the guys I work with has much the same backstory, and you know what? After everything we've been through, he has worlds to live for now. A family doesn't need to be what you marry into. It can just as easily be the people around you.
			Get a good team to back him, and your Carter could well exceed even himself.

			SOREN
			You know the FBI doesn't really do that.

			RAHAH
			So less X-Files, more... CID? Try it. Teams are great. Get four or five decent people with common ground and diverse skills, and nothing will stop you.

			SOREN
			CID?

			RAHAH
			Look, I do product development, okay? You know what I mean. Everyone sort of knows how the product is supposed to work, but one guy does the interfaces, one specialises in the architecture, one does all the widgets, and you've got another two guys putting it all together and making sure everything's on track. One of those is probably the manager.

			SOREN
			I thought you were doing archaeology.

			RAHAH
			If I say we've got three guys with guns, an astrophysicist, and an anthropologist, but even the latter two still do guns, it just doesn't quite sound as good.

			SOREN
			Which one are you?

			RAHAH
			One of the guys with guns, obviously.

			SOREN
			But you all have guns.

			RAHAH
			Exactly! That's the brilliance of it. But that doesn't sound as good, right?

			SOREN
			Sure...
			Okay, supposing we do organise a team, what would be on it? These are profilers. They don't work together.

			RAHAH
			Guns. Duh.

			SOREN
			I'm serious.

			RAHAH
			More profilers, maybe? Different specialisations. The human and the paranormal. White collar crimes, violent crimes. Get your criminologies covered, because it's all going to come up sooner or later.
			And social dynamics. History, anthropology. Get a librarian in on it. Librarians are cool.

			SOREN
			I'm not sure this would be the best place for a librarian.

			RAHAH
			You've got phones. Phones are a thing. Leave the librarian with the library and just call her up or stuff.
			That's what I'd do if I had a pet librarian. It'd totally be a her. A little woman with glasses and a squeaky chair. Maybe a very large grin? She doesn't say 'shhh', much, but if you're not careful she will play with your hair. And she's surrounded by bright cuddly things. Maybe a sheep.
			I mean, that's what I picture. That's probably not what you'd wind up with.

			SOREN
			You have a very strange mind.

			RAHAH
			Just consider it. It'd totally work. Unless it explodes. It might explode.

			SOREN
			No, it won't. It'll make the proposal more difficult to write, but I'm sure I can frame it so Carter makes it eventually happen.

			RAHAH
			I love how we have an expert in manipulating bureaucracy as our liaison in a Federal Bureau of Bureaucracy.

			SOREN
			Why do you think I'm there?
			In case you hadn't noticed, we sort of specialise in bureaucracy ourselves.

			</screenplay>

Apheori: Direction?

2015-09-06T14:17:48Z

Direction?

← Older revision		Revision as of 14:17, 6 September 2015
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			== Part 0 ==

	It was 3:20 AM.		It was 3:20 AM.

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	"What did they do?" Carter asked, still rather quietly.		"What did they do?" Carter asked, still rather quietly.

	~~"Ah, man, you brought him here?" Collins said. "That's his daughter!"~~

	~~"It was," Carter whispered.~~

	"How exactly did you find her?" Dave asked Collins levelly, drawing Carter back away as well.		"How exactly did you find her?" Dave asked Collins levelly, drawing Carter back away as well.
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	"But you do," Brooks said. "He knows more than any of us about this sort of thing. Possibly more than anyone out there."		"But you do," Brooks said. "He knows more than any of us about this sort of thing. Possibly more than anyone out there."

	"It'~~s a conflict of interest~~." Dave told her.		"It won't work." Dave told her. "Look at him."

	"Fuck that!" Brooks exclaimed. "He's good. You know he's good. Eh. Waitress!" she yelled suddenly at a vaguely nearby waitress, causing Dave to recoil a bit. A few other folks in the restaurant startled as well.		"Fuck that!" Brooks exclaimed. "He's good. You know he's good. Eh. Waitress!" she yelled suddenly at a vaguely nearby waitress, causing Dave to recoil a bit. A few other folks in the restaurant startled as well.
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	"How are waffles supposed to help, exactly?" Dave asked.		"How are waffles supposed to help, exactly?" Dave asked.

	"Fucking ~~Nobody~~ doesn't like waffles," Brooks said.		"Fucking nobody doesn't like waffles," Brooks said.

	Carter gave her a dead look. "Some people don't," he said flatly.		Carter gave her a dead look. "Some people don't," he said flatly.
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	"Your badge is showing," Dave said, rubbing an ear. "You're a detective even if you don't at all sound like it."		"Your badge is showing," Dave said, rubbing an ear. "You're a detective even if you don't at all sound like it."

	"Yeah, well," Brooks said, skewering another pancake. "I try. Seriously, ~~you say~~ it's a fucking conflict of interest, so the fuck what?"		"Yeah, well," Brooks said, skewering another pancake. "I try. Seriously, so it's a fucking conflict of interest, so the fuck what?"

	"Some of us are elected, you know," Dave told her.		"Some of us are elected, you know," Dave told her.
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	"Hope this helps," the waitress told Carter. He nodded vaguely as she left.		"Hope this helps," the waitress told Carter. He nodded vaguely as she left.

	"You're nuts," Dave said ~~finally~~. This was probably directed at Brooks.		"You're nuts," Dave said, shaking his head. This was probably directed at Brooks.

	Carter poked the waffles with a knife and said, "Alice loved these."		Carter poked the waffles with a knife and said, "Alice loved these."
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	~~Brooks~~' ~~superiors went for it, especially after Dave, lacking any better ideas, asked for her specifically for liaisoning purposes~~. ~~They~~ all ~~agreed to share anything they learned if they remembered~~, ~~and only later did it occur~~ to ~~anyone to wonder how~~ the ~~'if they remembered' part had gotten included~~.		It didn't pan out. Despite all protestations, Carter went home alone to give Tessa the news and just generally collapse in a pit of despair.

	~~Carter, meanwhile, went home to give Tessa the news, as well as just generally collapse in a pit of despair for the time being.~~		It was all so familiar. It was just like all other times, really, but before it had always been other people's children, not his own. After Alice had been born, he had always dreaded this every time another case came up. That one day the dead child would be his own.

	~~This~~ was all so familiar. It was just like all other times, really, but before it had always been other people's children, not his own. After Alice had been born, he had always dreaded this every time another case came up. That one day the dead child would be his own.

	This had been why he'd left the FBIC. He couldn't face that nightmare.		This had been why he'd left the FBIC. He couldn't face that nightmare.
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	Tessa knew. She simply closed her eyes and sat down, saying nothing. Carter collapsed onto the floor in front of the sofa, not even looking at anything at all.		Tessa knew. She simply closed her eyes and sat down, saying nothing. Carter collapsed onto the floor in front of the sofa, not even looking at anything at all.

	~~Later, Tessa asked, "What are you going to do?"~~		Everything had fallen apart.

	~~"I will find whoever did this," Carter said~~. ~~"Kill him."~~



	When Detective Brooks showed up at the county Sheriff's office the next day, she was holding two very large, very sugary drinks, and couldn't quite get the door open. Only after a whole lot of cursing and some help from one of the deputies did she get inside at all, at which point a large fluffy dog charged her, nearly knocking her over. She managed to hold onto them, barely, but spilled one all over the detective as he grabbed the dog.

	~~"What the fuck?" Brooks yelled.~~

	~~"Oh, yeah, be careful with that one," the receptionist, a drab-looking women in day-old makeup, said disinterestedly, not even looking. "Been trying to take everyone's food."~~

	~~"Shit, this looks like food to you?" Brooks said, holding up a cup. As the deputy pulled the dog back away, she asked, gesturing with the other, "What's with him?"~~		== Part 1 ==

	~~"Eeeeeh~~,~~" he said~~.		That was then. Two years and all the efforts of Roseburg's finest brought only despair and nothing, and yet more nothing. Those working the case moved on as new cases came in, and the story of the framed women became simply another small piece of the town's history.

	~~"I see~~,~~" Brooks said~~. ~~"Rigsby around?"~~		The Carters' lives were shattered, and in time they too grew apart. Tessa tried to move on, but Dean Carter simply couldn't. He shut down, gave up his practice and moved away, trying to escape, but there was no escaping what was in his own head. When the divorce papers came he simply signed them, the small remaining logical part of his brain telling him maybe, maybe Tessa would be able to do better, maybe she at least could... something. He hated himself for this, but more than that he hated himself for what had happened, for what he had allowed himself to become, for how useless everything had been, his entire life, every decision and effort throughout.

	~~"Hiding~~ in ~~one of~~ the ~~conference rooms~~,~~" the receptionist said~~.		He hated himself for the odd moments of clarity in which he could put the entire thing aside and consider simply what was before him, whatever was before him.

	~~"Yeah? Which?" Brooks asked~~.		Usually it was scotch.

	~~"Whichever he's in," the receptionist said~~. ~~"There's only two."~~		He hated that too.

	~~"Well~~, ~~thanks," she told her, heading in the indicated direction~~.		Now, Carter was staring at his scotch wondering why he was even still alive.

	~~The conference rooms~~ were ~~clearly labelled, and the small windows~~ in ~~the doors showed only one to have a light on~~, ~~so she went ahead and barged into that one~~.		"It's not all bad," a woman said next to him. They were in some bar. It was late. Probably. He wasn't really sure, nor did he really care.

	~~Dave Rigsby looked up in surprise as she entered,~~ then ~~said, "Oh, hi." He had a bunch~~ of ~~files~~ and ~~other work out in front of him~~.		She gave him a moment and then flagged over one of the bartenders and ordered herself something as well, settling onto the stool.

	~~Brooks plonked the slightly spilled drink down~~ in ~~front of it all and~~ then ~~sat across the table~~.		It was later. For some reason she'd been refilling his drinks. Her long black hair kept falling across her face in such a peculiar fashion, first obscuring, then highlighting her features.

	~~He frowned at it, but didn~~'t ~~stop what he was doing~~.		"Don't," Carter said blankly as she leaned over to pour him some more scotch for the umpteenth time.

	~~After a moment~~, ~~she~~ asked, "~~Don't you have an office~~?"		She stopped, eyeing him from behind her curtain of hair, and asked, "Why not?"

	"~~Yeah, the dog kept getting in~~," he said.		"Doesn't help," he said, reaching for the glass, not even noticing it was still empty.

	"~~And why do you have a fucking dog in here at all?~~" ~~Brooks asked~~.		She poured him another just as he was picking it up. "Tell me about it," she said.

	"~~No idea,~~" ~~Dave~~ said.		"About ''what''?" he said. "Nothing to tell. No point. No point at all."

	"~~Hah!~~" ~~Brooks said~~. "~~Wish the boys back in my department would ever fucking admit that~~."		"There's always a point, and always a story to tell." She took Carter's head in her hands and pointed his face toward hers. "Look. You're worth something. You're brilliant and alone, and you've lost so much, but this will not be your end."

Apheori: +

2015-08-25T03:39:33Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 03:39, 25 August 2015
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	"Hah, did you fucking hear that? 'Ma'am'!" Brooks told Dave with a laugh. "I must be getting old."		"Hah, did you fucking hear that? 'Ma'am'!" Brooks told Dave with a laugh. "I must be getting old."

	"~~You're a detective with the Roseburg police, man~~," Dave said, rubbing an ear. "~~And you look the part,~~ even if you don't at all sound like it."		"Your badge is showing," Dave said, rubbing an ear. "You're a detective even if you don't at all sound like it."

	"Yeah, well," Brooks said, skewering another pancake. "I try. Seriously, you say it's a fucking conflict of interest, so the fuck what?"		"Yeah, well," Brooks said, skewering another pancake. "I try. Seriously, you say it's a fucking conflict of interest, so the fuck what?"
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	"Hope this helps," the waitress told Carter. He nodded vaguely as she left.		"Hope this helps," the waitress told Carter. He nodded vaguely as she left.

	"You're nuts," Dave said finally.		"You're nuts," Dave said finally. This was probably directed at Brooks.

	Carter poked the waffles with a knife and said, "Alice loved these."		Carter poked the waffles with a knife and said, "Alice loved these."
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	Brooks' superiors went for it, especially after Dave, lacking any better ideas, asked for her specifically. They all agreed to share anything they learned if they remembered, and only later did it occur to anyone to wonder how the 'if they remembered' part had gotten included.		Brooks' superiors went for it, especially after Dave, lacking any better ideas, asked for her specifically for liaisoning purposes. They all agreed to share anything they learned if they remembered, and only later did it occur to anyone to wonder how the 'if they remembered' part had gotten included.

	Carter, meanwhile, went home to give Tessa the news, as well as just generally collapse in a pit of despair for the time being.		Carter, meanwhile, went home to give Tessa the news, as well as just generally collapse in a pit of despair for the time being.

	It was just like ~~so many~~ other times, but before it had always been other people's children, not his own. After Alice had been born, he had always dreaded this every time another case came up. That one day the dead child would be his own.		This was all so familiar. It was just like all other times, really, but before it had always been other people's children, not his own. After Alice had been born, he had always dreaded this every time another case came up. That one day the dead child would be his own.

	This had been why he'd left the FBIC. He couldn't face that nightmare.		This had been why he'd left the FBIC. He couldn't face that nightmare.
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	And now here he was. Facing it.		And now here he was. Facing it.

	Tessa knew. She simply closed her eyes and sat down, saying nothing. Carter collapsed onto the floor in front of the sofa.		Tessa knew. She simply closed her eyes and sat down, saying nothing. Carter collapsed onto the floor in front of the sofa, not even looking at anything at all.

	Later, Tessa asked, "What are you going to do?"		Later, Tessa asked, "What are you going to do?"

	"~~Find him~~," Carter said. "Kill him."		"I will find whoever did this," Carter said. "Kill him."

	"~~Good~~," ~~Tessa~~ said.

			When Detective Brooks showed up at the county Sheriff's office the next day, she was holding two very large, very sugary drinks, and couldn't quite get the door open. Only after a whole lot of cursing and some help from one of the deputies did she get inside at all, at which point a large fluffy dog charged her, nearly knocking her over. She managed to hold onto them, barely, but spilled one all over the detective as he grabbed the dog.

			"What the fuck?" Brooks yelled.

			"Oh, yeah, be careful with that one," the receptionist, a drab-looking women in day-old makeup, said disinterestedly, not even looking. "Been trying to take everyone's food."

			"Shit, this looks like food to you?" Brooks said, holding up a cup. As the deputy pulled the dog back away, she asked, gesturing with the other, "What's with him?"

			"Eeeeeh," he said.

			"I see," Brooks said. "Rigsby around?"

			"Hiding in one of the conference rooms," the receptionist said.

			"Yeah? Which?" Brooks asked.

			"Whichever he's in," the receptionist said. "There's only two."

			"Well, thanks," she told her, heading in the indicated direction.

			The conference rooms were clearly labelled, and the small windows in the doors showed only one to have a light on, so she went ahead and barged into that one.

			Dave Rigsby looked up in surprise as she entered, then said, "Oh, hi." He had a bunch of files and other work out in front of him.

			Brooks plonked the slightly spilled drink down in front of it all and then sat across the table.

			He frowned at it, but didn't stop what he was doing.

			After a moment, she asked, "Don't you have an office?"

			"Yeah, the dog kept getting in," he said.

			"And why do you have a fucking dog in here at all?" Brooks asked.

			"No idea," Dave said.

			"Hah!" Brooks said. "Wish the boys back in my department would ever fucking admit that."

Apheori: Better?

2015-08-23T00:47:39Z

Better?

Show changes

Apheori: Hmm.

2015-08-18T19:45:03Z

Hmm.

New page

It was 3:20 AM.

Dean Carter stared blearily at his alarm clock. He had no idea what had awoken him. Beside him, his wife, Tessa, moaned something incoherently and turned over, helpfully kneeing him in the back on the way.

The phone rang again, loudly, insistently, like an auger into his brain.

"You gonna get that?" Tessa mumbled through a wad of sheets.

Carter flopped over and grabbed the headset just as it began to jangle again.

He clamped it to his ear right as he fell back into his pillow. "Nwaah?" he managed, then croaked, much more clearly, "Dr. Carter's not even remotely an office."

The voice on the other end was one he knew well - Dave Rigsby was the local sheriff, who often had Carter consult on various things, even when it turned out to be completely unnecessary. "Dean, it's Alice," Dave's voice told him. "You need to come in."

"What? Now?" Carter asked. "It's three in the goddamn morning."

"Yes, now," Dave said simply.

Even in his bleary state Carter picked up on something in Dave's voice that wasn't quite right, and he sat bolt upright. "What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly not tired at all. "Is she all right?"

"Look, man, you'd better just come in," Dave said.

Carter didn't even bother to respond to this, and simply hung up and jumped out of bed, pulling on some proper clothes as quickly as possible.

"Dean?" Tessa asked, now sitting up as well. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," he told her. "Alice..." Carter shook his head blankly and ran for it.

On the way into the sheriff's office, Carter expected the worst. He ran through every possible worst he could think of. Alice had been arrested. She was missing. Dead. Maimed. Found something. Arrested. Dead.

It was worse.

She was dead.

"Dead," Carter repeated in a hoarse whisper, and collapsed into the nearest chair. This turned out to be a plastic kiddie chair, and he collapsed a bit further down than expected as a result.

"Collins found her half-buried in the woods behind his barn," Dave said. "I'm sorry, man. I..." he trailed off, clearly not knowing what to say himself.

One of the deputies, Deputy Row, looked on uncertainly as well. None of the others were in.

"Dead," Carter repeated again. Alice was his daughter, their only child, sometimes the only glue that had held his marriage together. Dead? He couldn't figure it. It made no sense. She'd just been in town for the summer, about to start her second year of college.

Dave patted Carter uncertainly on the shoulder. "She was a real jewel. World doesn't seem right where someone would murder her," he said.

"Murder?" Carter asked blankly. He jumped off the colourful too-small chair. "Where is she? I need to see her."

Dave shook his head. "She's still out where Collins found her, man, until the coroners can bring her in. You don't want to see that."

Carter looked at him pleadingly, and finally Dave just sighed. "You're the shrink. I dunno what happens when you gotta go shrinking yourself."

Her face was pristine, expression almost dreamy, looking overall almost like she might have been asleep, but it was the only thing about her that did. Though her body was mostly buried in leaves, the rigid pose was evident, limbs straight and splayed, perfectly symmetrical. A hand stuck out, grasping, dark and crusted.

Alice.

Two of the other deputies were nearby with Collins. They'd set up a floodlight.

Carter just stopped and stared.

"Was this how they found her?" Carter whispered.

"Hey, was this how you found her?" Dave yelled after the others.

"Yeah, yeah," Collins said, nodding. He looked a bit freaked out was well. "Well, mostly," he amended. "I mean, she was... she was naked, man."

"What did they do?" Carter asked, still rather quietly.

"Ah, man, you brought him here?" Collins said. "That's his daughter!"

"It was," Carter whispered.

"How exactly did you find her?" Dave asked Collins levelly, drawing Carter back away as well.

"Oh, well," Collins said, "as I was just telling your fine deputies here, rather like that." He indicated toward Alice's body. "'Cept naked, right? Hands and feet covered in blood, last year's leaves like they'd been scooped out underneath her. Like she'd been framed. In leaves."

Dave gave him a surprised look.

"Framed?" one of the deputies, Nellis, asked. She had a notebook in hand and was writing in it again. This was new.

Collins nodded. "I ain't no shrink and that wasn't no fucking artwork, but yeah, yeah, that was what it looked like," he said, and shuddered. "Framed, man."

Carter fell to his knees by Alice's head, reaching out to touch her hair, before he stopped himself at the last minute. "There's a bow in her hair. She never wore bows. Never could manage much of anything in her hair."

"Does that mean something?" Dave asked uncertainly.

"It all does," Carter whispered. "Every damn thing. The leaves, the blood. The pose. Why Alice? Why here?"

"Look, man, you don't want to work on this case," Dave said. "It's Alice..."

"Exactly," Carter said loudly.

The coroners did their thing. It helped, living in the shadow of a decently large city. Once everyone woke up and hauled in everyone else, there were resources at hand.

The report summed up that Alice had been bound, raped, and finally strangled. There was no sign of drugs. The blood was pig's blood.

Carter stared at her, the body pulled out in its drawer, so clean, so still, as he had so many others in the past. But before it had always been other people's children, not his own. After Alice had been born, he had always dreaded this every time he saw another. That one day it would be his own.

This had been why he'd left the FBIC. He couldn't face that nightmare.

And now here he was. Facing it.

"See anything?" Dave asked. He hadn't wanted to bring Carter along, of course, but Carter had insisted with all the quiet force of a broken tree. This is what he did. He could do it now.

Dave hadn't even tried to point out that it'd been the better part of twenty years since Carter had touched an actual murder.

"She struggled," Carter said, indicating her wrists. "And look, he must have cut her clothing off with a scissors. You can see marks along the leg where it would have run against her jeans, because she just kept struggling." He stared for a moment, then askd, "Did anyone find the clothing?"

"Not a sign," Dave said.

"He's done this before," Carter said.

"What, a serial? I think we'd know, man. A serial killer in the area stands out," Dave said.

"This is too specific for it to be a first time," Carter told him. "A ritual this well-developed takes time. Also it's not actually that easy to strangle someone, but he got it and he got it right. One go. There'd be more bruising otherwise."

"Oh," Dave said, peering at it. To him it just looked... like bruising. Like someone had been strangled. "Can you tell what he might have used?"

"Something with a lot of friction. Wrapped it around twice and pulled it tight. Rubber tubing, maybe?"

"So we need to find the others," Dave mused. "Same methods, pig's blood, all that? Sounds like an FBIC job, all right."

"Maybe," Carter agreed. "Strangulations, similar dumping style. They'll be messier. Tell us more."

"You're going to kill this perp," Dave said.

Carter gave him a dead look.

Dave sighed. "I know I would," he said.