Draco Cronnoc II
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," you nod solemnly. "I should definitely stay here and research the murder of Ms. Lakin and oversee the recovery effort. Just make sure you nab the bastard who did this."
"I promise you I will," Graw says, tipping his hat to you. "Let's go Ken." With that Graw leaves for Louisville. And as you watch him depart you return to your police station, this time taking a cab to avoid the long wait on the bus.
You return to the station and find that the wreakage of Deborah's car has not yet been removed. At least the flames went out. You push open the station door and find it chaotic. Apparently Greg didn't do a good job taking charge. Papers are everywhere, and it seems that no one took the action to do anything about either Deborah or the attack.
"Alright people!" you shout above the screaming. "Shut up now!" Everyone freezes when they hear your voice above the din. At least for now, you're the one in charge. Once quiet fills the room, you continue in a level tone. "What has gone on since I left? Have we made any headway on the attacks or on Ms. Lakin's assassination?"
A new member to your squad, John you think, clears his throat nervously. "Well, not much...you see, our phones have not been functioning. So we haven't had any communication with Division, and all CIA channels save the internet have been severed. And our server's been down so we can't use that either."
"What a day," you grumble, reciting Murphy's Law in your head. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. "So. You've essentially done nothing. Where is Greg?"
Greg steps out of the crowd and hangs his head. "I'm sorry we didn't get anything done, Mr. Cronnoc."
"You should be," you affirm, reprimanding him quietly. "Greg, I trusted you, and this place went to the dogs. I hope you'll do better next time if you want a promotion. But for now, we need to forget your mistake and move on. I want all available to use all resources on Ms. Lakin's murder. All I found out at Rigor was that the bomb-case was made in Louisville, so right now are most promising lead is her. Find her killer, and then you'll find the ones behind the bombing. So, everyone on that except John and Greg. I need John and Greg to come with me."
Greg and John follow you, both wearing confused expressions. You go down a short hall and sidestep into a deserted room. "Greg. Please don't take what I said personally. I needed to make an example of you to motivate the others."
"No offense taken," Greg says more stiffly than you'd like.
"Good. Now to you, John. We need working phones. So I'll need you to figure out what's wrong. Chances are the problem's the control room. You're new, so you might not know: that room's ancient. It was mostly geared for activities in the Cold War and it malfunctions a lot. Go down there and see what's wrong."
"Right," John nods, quickly getting out of your way and leaving the room.
Now it is just you and Greg in the room. You notice that he is flustered. "Everything alright, Greg?" you ask, putting an arm around your apprentice with the greatest potential. "You good to go? I need you today."
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just mad that I let things get out of hand."
"Well, don't worry about it. Just get back to work." You dismiss Greg and he departs in the same manner and direction as John.
You retreat to your office. Sadly, it won't be your office much longer once you take position as the head of the whole force. But at least you get to reflect on the day's events.
You mull this over in your head for longer than you should. Gazing at the clock, you notice you've lost a precious half-hour just sitting in your room. Lethargy is the enemy. You stand up and stretch when a thought hits you.
Where's John? The man's been down in the control room for over a half hour, and he hasn't even bothered to report back to you or tell anyone to inform you of what's going on down there!
You decide that it's time to inspect it for yourself. The fact that you're also needed with everyone else is irrelevant. The phone communications are critical, and that's John.
You briskly walk downstairs to the control room and push the door open. What you observe surprises you.
All lights in the room are turned off. A rank stench assaults your nostrils. A revolting odor you haven't smelled in an entire hour: a dead body. You draw your gun.
Fans whirring in the room prevent you from detecting where the killer might be, so you tread cautiously, holding out your gun into the darkness. Slowly your eyes adjust. You can see the faint outline of a man crouching beneath a table, perhaps ready to pounch on you once you come close enough.
A shot rings through the sound of the fans. Your shot. You hit the figure in what you thought was his arm. Based on an incessant deep-throated scream of pain you did not hit your mark.
Damn!
You must delivered a fatal shot to whoever killed John. You backstep to turn on the light to see who the murderer is.
Greg lies a few yards ahead of you, as does John (who has a terrible cut on his throat). Greg is moaning pitifully in the last seconds of life. What luck. You hit him directly in the heart. Blood is spurting in every direction, just as your thoughts are.
Greg killed John. Greg probably killed Deborah too. You need to find out why. You need to know. You'll demand it out of Greg in his last seconds of life. If he tells you, you'll either raid his home for more or track down the group who organized it all. If he doesn't say anything...well, you'll raid his home anyway.
You pull Greg close to your face. "Who told you to do this?"
Greg coughs up more than a bit of crimson blood before gagging: "Red Exterior."
"I promise you I will," Graw says, tipping his hat to you. "Let's go Ken." With that Graw leaves for Louisville. And as you watch him depart you return to your police station, this time taking a cab to avoid the long wait on the bus.
You return to the station and find that the wreakage of Deborah's car has not yet been removed. At least the flames went out. You push open the station door and find it chaotic. Apparently Greg didn't do a good job taking charge. Papers are everywhere, and it seems that no one took the action to do anything about either Deborah or the attack.
"Alright people!" you shout above the screaming. "Shut up now!" Everyone freezes when they hear your voice above the din. At least for now, you're the one in charge. Once quiet fills the room, you continue in a level tone. "What has gone on since I left? Have we made any headway on the attacks or on Ms. Lakin's assassination?"
A new member to your squad, John you think, clears his throat nervously. "Well, not much...you see, our phones have not been functioning. So we haven't had any communication with Division, and all CIA channels save the internet have been severed. And our server's been down so we can't use that either."
"What a day," you grumble, reciting Murphy's Law in your head. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. "So. You've essentially done nothing. Where is Greg?"
Greg steps out of the crowd and hangs his head. "I'm sorry we didn't get anything done, Mr. Cronnoc."
"You should be," you affirm, reprimanding him quietly. "Greg, I trusted you, and this place went to the dogs. I hope you'll do better next time if you want a promotion. But for now, we need to forget your mistake and move on. I want all available to use all resources on Ms. Lakin's murder. All I found out at Rigor was that the bomb-case was made in Louisville, so right now are most promising lead is her. Find her killer, and then you'll find the ones behind the bombing. So, everyone on that except John and Greg. I need John and Greg to come with me."
Greg and John follow you, both wearing confused expressions. You go down a short hall and sidestep into a deserted room. "Greg. Please don't take what I said personally. I needed to make an example of you to motivate the others."
"No offense taken," Greg says more stiffly than you'd like.
"Good. Now to you, John. We need working phones. So I'll need you to figure out what's wrong. Chances are the problem's the control room. You're new, so you might not know: that room's ancient. It was mostly geared for activities in the Cold War and it malfunctions a lot. Go down there and see what's wrong."
"Right," John nods, quickly getting out of your way and leaving the room.
Now it is just you and Greg in the room. You notice that he is flustered. "Everything alright, Greg?" you ask, putting an arm around your apprentice with the greatest potential. "You good to go? I need you today."
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just mad that I let things get out of hand."
"Well, don't worry about it. Just get back to work." You dismiss Greg and he departs in the same manner and direction as John.
You retreat to your office. Sadly, it won't be your office much longer once you take position as the head of the whole force. But at least you get to reflect on the day's events.
You mull this over in your head for longer than you should. Gazing at the clock, you notice you've lost a precious half-hour just sitting in your room. Lethargy is the enemy. You stand up and stretch when a thought hits you.
Where's John? The man's been down in the control room for over a half hour, and he hasn't even bothered to report back to you or tell anyone to inform you of what's going on down there!
You decide that it's time to inspect it for yourself. The fact that you're also needed with everyone else is irrelevant. The phone communications are critical, and that's John.
You briskly walk downstairs to the control room and push the door open. What you observe surprises you.
All lights in the room are turned off. A rank stench assaults your nostrils. A revolting odor you haven't smelled in an entire hour: a dead body. You draw your gun.
Fans whirring in the room prevent you from detecting where the killer might be, so you tread cautiously, holding out your gun into the darkness. Slowly your eyes adjust. You can see the faint outline of a man crouching beneath a table, perhaps ready to pounch on you once you come close enough.
A shot rings through the sound of the fans. Your shot. You hit the figure in what you thought was his arm. Based on an incessant deep-throated scream of pain you did not hit your mark.
Damn!
You must delivered a fatal shot to whoever killed John. You backstep to turn on the light to see who the murderer is.
Greg lies a few yards ahead of you, as does John (who has a terrible cut on his throat). Greg is moaning pitifully in the last seconds of life. What luck. You hit him directly in the heart. Blood is spurting in every direction, just as your thoughts are.
Greg killed John. Greg probably killed Deborah too. You need to find out why. You need to know. You'll demand it out of Greg in his last seconds of life. If he tells you, you'll either raid his home for more or track down the group who organized it all. If he doesn't say anything...well, you'll raid his home anyway.
You pull Greg close to your face. "Who told you to do this?"
Greg coughs up more than a bit of crimson blood before gagging: "Red Exterior."