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By Miikka64
04/10/2026 - 20:34:47

Type: Captain
Rating: 10 (Good)
Tags: gaprop

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Description

[ Personal Voice Diary of Isath Lobroth, Day 001 - Entry 001 ]

My new 'employers' confiscated all of my previous recordings as 'evidence', thus this marks the first of this series. It does hinder my work somewhat, starting from scratch, but I suppose I should be thankful they even allowed me to continue being a detective?apologies, 'detective CONSULTANT'?at all. Negotiation isn't exactly my strong suit at the moment, what with execution being the sole alternative they've so graciously offered?just because they themselves are too obtuse to keep their hands away from my hands. You'd think they'd learn after the first seven guards dropped de?

"Hey, loony! Stop talking to yourself like a crazy person, and get to work! There are dead bodies everywhere, and you've got a case to solve!"

Don't talk over me while I'm recording you imbecile! I just lost my train of thought... Besides?I say as I try lighting a cigarette, only to yet again be reminded that my hands are not only figuratively, but also literally tied?the dead won't be going anywhere. It's not like they've got places to be or appointments to attend. They can wait while I?

"Spode damn it, the dead might not be getting any deader, but they sure are getting smellier! And what was that about smoking? Are you narrating? Talking to your 'audience'? For blarb's sake, the only ears listening to your ramblings will be whoever the Commissioner decides to have review your recordings once we're done with this whole mess!"

It's called 'scene-setting'. I'm sorry, have I failed to mention what a delight it is to work with you, you cretinous killjoy? Now, if you have any questions about how I do my job, kindly leave them for when I'm done, hmm?.. Alright, where was I? I got done explaining the circumstances of my employment, yes. Now then, let me set the scene properly:
Dark alleyway, dirty dumpster, a pile of mutilated bodies on one side, yours truly?bound and miserable?on the other. The neon lights of a billboard advertising the latest flavor of Spora-Cola reflect off of the rain-slicked steel pavement, bathing everything in a dim red glow. The overpowering stench of blood, rotting meat, and the foul, thick sewer gas rising from the nearby grate only serves to enhance the ambiance of the scene... A question rises in the back of my head as I look over the bloody mess in front of me:

What kind of madman actually goes to a store with the intent of buying a butter-flavored soda?

...Wait, no, that's not the appropriate question here. I meant: what is the motive for one to attack five gang-affiliated individuals in the dead of night and turn their remains into a jigsaw puzzle? I turn to my handler, knowing his next words even before they escape his slack jaw.

"How'd you figure that they're gang members?"

The look on his face as his brain tries to catch up to my own deductions is truly a sight to behold. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he puzzles over the answer to his question, his eyes scanning the scene for clues. I sigh and continue my narration, just to spare the poor lad any further confusion.
Elementary, my dear handler. Note the burn marks on the severed left arm of victim two, on the right leg of victim three, and the shoulder of victim five. All old, partially healed, and each more than likely the result of having one's gang affiliation removed with a hot iron. Sloppy work, but has clearly worked so far, as it allowed these individuals to pass through your checkpoints unimpeded, and blend in with the rest of the population. I take a few steps back, allowing my handler a moment to process the information while I contemplate the scene in front of me. The violence displayed here is almost... artistic, in a way. The killer?yes, singular?had their own, twisted reasons for committing these acts, and they wanted them to be known.
The question is, what are those reasons? What dark message were they trying to convey, and to whom?