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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

WWXXII : A Post Nuclear WereWolf Game


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War. War never changes. The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth . Spain built an empire from its lust for gold and territory. Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower. But war never changes. In the 21st century war was still waged over the resources that could be acquired. Only this time, the spoils of war were also its weapons : petroleum and uranium. For these resources China would invade Alaska, the US would annex Canada, and the European Commonwealth would dissolve into quarreling, bickering nation-states bent on controlling the last remaining resources on earth.

 

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In 2077 the storm of world war had come again. In 2 brief hours most of the planet was reduced to cinders. And from the ashes of nuclear devastation a new civilisation would struggle to arise.

 

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A few were able to reach the relative safety of the large underground vaults. Your family was part of that group that entered vault 22. Imprisoned safely behind the large vault door, under a mountain of stone, a generation has lived without knowledge of the outside world. Life in the vault is about to change.

 

 

 

 

Screenshots taken from the intro movies of the Fallout games. Text taken from the intro movie of Fallout 1.

 

OOC thread is here.

Edited by Venefyxatu
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Deep in vault 22, a clatter arises. Metal scraping on metal, something being repeatedly thrust against wood, shouts and raised voices. Three children huddle against a doorway, chattering.

 

"Sounds like a robot!"

 

"Pre-eeetty scary."

 

"I bet she's beating them up!"

 

One bravely peeks into the room. Of course, they all know that the noises are only supper being prepared, but they are equally aware of the inherent risk of hanging out around the kitchens, and do so for the thrill of it.

 

Cook turns around and sees the child's face framed in the door. She lets out a noise much like a shriek, and waddles as fast as she can toward it. "You get ooouuut of here, you interfering little children! This is your last chance!" They are already scrambling out of her way, but she chases them a few metres down the corridor, surprisingly quick on her feet, and slaps one of them with her spatula.

 

They run off, shouting and giggling, and she returns to supervising her food and the other cooks, muttering about disrespectful children and how she'd give them some nasty spices in their alfredo tonight.

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Kyraine shakes her head in disgust as the children run past her, and with a brisk pace intercepts Cook when she's about to yeall at some clumsy helper.

 

"Cook, if you please..."

 

Cook glares at that old woman, sighing inwardly but trying hard to put a less threatening expression on her face.

 

"Yes, Mrs. Morgan?"

 

"I would appreciate if you either kept your helpers about you at all times, or taught them not to wander where they aren't called." She cuts the reply with a sharp gesture, demanding continuous attention to her. "This morning one of yours just wandered into my lab with a tray of food. This person left the tray over a counter without noticing the tissue cultures being grown next to it. I've my material contaminated by pepper, tomato sauce, and something else I couldn't identify."

 

Ignoring Cook's perfectly understandable indignation at her words, Kyraine goes on. "I haven't asked for lunch in the lab today, and I'll be clear once again, Cook: my grandchildren aren't to order food for me to be delivered at the lab. Never. I myself will call you and request it when needed. Have you understood that?"

 

The clanking and scraping at the background finally seems to have reached the professor's ears, and she grimaces.

 

"And for the lord's sake, can't you work in silence? If you made less noise in here, you wouldn't have the children coming all the time!"

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OOC: Written collaboratively with Sweetcherrie.

 

"Derrick James! Come and eat your breakfast!"

 

DJ turned around sleepily in his bed when he heard his father call. He was annoyed by the fact that his father kept calling him by that ridiculous name, everybody called him DJ, so why couldn’t that old geek use that name as well. “I don’t want any!” He shouted back. He would move to the kitchen a bit later that day, and get something from there.

 

Cook wouldn’t like it, but she wouldn’t know either. He closed his eyes again and was about to fall asleep again, when he remembered that Mary might be helping in the kitchens. He jumped from his bed, and slipped on his overall. He put on a white t-shirt and tied the sleeves of the overall around his waist.

 

DJ checked in the mirror and, as he run a hand through his sleek hair, decided that he looked cool. He walked to the other room where his father was, and went to leave without a word.

 

John sighed. Why, oh why did Derrick always test his patience? It was as if he did it on purpose, but John knew that it was only the boy's nature to act thus.

 

He finished his breakfast of ham and eggs and did the washing up, putting Derrick's untouched breakfast into the fridge. He left a note on the fridge door for his wife explaining when he was going to get back from his duty, took his gun, issued by the shelter. He had never once drawn the gun from its holster, neither had any of his fellow security guards as far as John knew.

 

He fastened the belt of his uniform and left his quarters, entering at first a small corridor, then the main corridor leading towards the kitchens and the supply area. As he passed the kitchens going towards the supply area, where he had to stand on duty during the morning he saw DJ near the kitchens.

 

From the position he had chosen he could see the kids running away from cook, and her following them into the hallway. DJ saw Kyraine holding cook up with her mindless babbling, and decided that this was his chance to move in. He was just about to slip into the kitchen when he heard his father coming, he straightened up, said hello, and decided he’d have to come back later.

 

DJ wondered where Mary would be, especially since she hadn’t been in the kitchen. He turned the corner in search for her, avoiding any other contact with his father.

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Billie Jo untied plastic bootees from around her feet and stepped out of them onto the concrete floor. Soil fell off of the bootees and back into the seedbed as Billie Jo folded them up and returned them to a coverall pocket. She pushed the loaded vegetable cart along the truck garden's rows, between knee-high concrete baffles holding the soil in its place, and slid it through the kitchen doors. One of Cook's helpers pushed out yesterday's cart, filled with kitchen scraps. Billie Jo dragged that behind her to the compost bin; she double-checked the bin locks to make sure no younguns had been fighting with rotten vegetables again.

 

After washing her hands in the soil-reclamation sinks, she picked up her lunchbox and ducked into the concealing orchard rows, but came out again on the other side, checking both ways before leaving the greenhouses. Outside of her room, a young bottle-blonde had her nose to the vent. Billie Jo coughed noisily, and the woman spun around like she'd been slapped.

 

"Hi! Um. I'm--"

 

"Don't say anything! Then I can't tell it. What'd you bring?"

 

"One hundred fifty credits--in hand."

 

"Throw in a pack of cigarettes and you can have two."

 

"Cigarettes? Eww!"

 

"Don't lie. Look at your fingers--use a holder."

 

Bottle-blonde glanced at her fingertips, grimaced, and flicked the cigarettes and wadded papers at Billie Jo. She went inside and came out with a slender bundle wrapped in the plastic bootees; Bottle-blonde took the bundle. "I'm telling you anyway. I'm Irene and I'm old enough to smoke!" she blurted, and ran off with the roses. Billie Jo looked to the ceiling for patience, then tapped on a door further down the hall with an "Out of Order" sign tacked onto it. John cracked it open immediately.

 

"What do you think?" she whispered, handing two through the crack; he brought them back out, lit, and gave one back to her.

 

"Mmm. . .I saw her lurking around Mister Braggins' suite a few days ago. I think she's trying to get to know our famous author, and you know he never said no to a pretty face. In bed," he added. Billie Jo scowled. "Right, you never had a fortune cookie. . .She's old enough to smoke but she's not old enough to say no, know what I mean?"

 

John shut the door. Billie Jo puffed in silence for awhile before the door cracked open again, this time with a whiff of stagnant water. "Would you mind? Chuck wants one too," he added. Her forehead creased slightly but she passed another cigarette through the door.

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Mary hummed softly to herself as she helped her mother sew up the tears in the older shirts that were circulated around the vault. Recycling old clothes, recylcing everything had become so much more important than it was before the war.

Mary had never seen the surface, but her parents had shown her pictures of it before it was destroyed. It looked pretty. A nice place to live. But the practical mind within told her that this was her life and she may as well live it.

It did no good for a lady to complain. It only made her appear more shallow.

And so Mary went about her young life as a well behaved young woman, doing as she was told, never complaining, helping out, and always acting proper.

Mary felt a certain amount of pride in the knowledge that she pulled her weight around Vault 22, even though she was only 14. Of course she only did the women's work like cooking and cleaning and sewing. She wouldn't ever dream of doing the men's tasks.

 

"Darling, why don't you finish that shirt and then go and help Cook?" Mary's mother spoke softly in an educated British accent. "She'll be wanting help with the breakfast dishes and getting ready for lunch."

"Alright, Mother," Mary replied in a similar voice, tying off the cotton she had been threading and placing the shirt on top of the pile of fixed garments.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Mary set off to the kitchen, still humming softly to herself.

She wondered if she would see that DJ boy at all today. Of course she knew her parents didn't approve, and she could clearly see why - he just wasn't a practical choice for a girl - but it was amusing to see the way he reacted around her.

Flattering almost.

 

All thoughts of DJ were banished as Mary arrived into the busy kitchen, immediately getting to work without having to be told what to do, enabling Cook to think about one less chore.

Because a lady shouldn't have to be told what to do when it came to her tasks...

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"I'm telling you anyway. I'm Irene and I'm old enough to smoke!" With these words, Irene ran down the corridor. She clutched the smuggled roses to her chest, trying to conceal them without squashing the delicate flowers. Not until she was safely behind the locked door of her room did Irene stop. Setting down the flowers, she held her hands out in front of her and examined the splayed fingers. They didn't look discolored or anything to her. How had that woman known? Irene made a mental note to get herself one of those cigarette holders the woman had mentioned.

 

A few minutes later, roses safely locked away, Irene slipped into the hallway. She started off at a slower pace this time, and made her way towards Mr. Braggins' rooms. Outside his door, she knocks softly and says "It's Irene, Mr. Braggins. Can I come in?" The girl hears answering words and lets herself into the room.

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After wandering around aimlessly for a couple of hours, and not being able to find Mary, DJ decided to give the kitchen a second try. He needed to get his hands on some food, since he was sure that Cook would try to spice up his meal again. She’d tried it before, and he’d kept it silent. If he was entirely honest with himself he could also see that he deserved it, but nobody around here seemed to understand him anyways, so he no longer tried.

 

He approached the kitchen on tiptoes, and felt his heart jump when he saw that Mary was there. For a while he just studied her, and followed the delicate movements of her elegant hands. She had a neck that he’d always wanted to kiss, but he knew that she’d never let him. When he saw Cook leave to get something from the big cooling cells, he inhaled deeply and stepped into the kitchen with what he thought would be a charming smile. “Well, hey hey, who have we got here? It’s the most beautiful girl in the vault,” DJ silently hoped that the wink he gave her showed more self-confidence than he felt.

 

“Oh well, hello Derrick James, I see you are wasting your time again.” Her British accent gave him pleasant goose bumps, and he kept her talking while he shoved different food items in the sleeves of his overall. “So Mary, when I go off to discover the real world, will you come with me, my little flower?”

 

The girl pulled up her nose, “You know very well that my parents would never allow me to go with you,” the last words was said with so much sarcasm that DJ cringed inwardly. “Yes, my dear rosebud, but-“ He slid one last apple in his overall, and hurried out with a whispered goodbye, when he heard Cook coming back. “Farewell my English rose, till we meet again.”

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Lenny shuffled through the corridors of the Vault, scratching himself where he pretended the suit itched. He didn't like the suits. He didn't like the Vault. His parents had told him so many stories from before the War and he'd loved every single one of them. He sighed.

 

If only we could go back to that time ...

 

But it was no use ... instead, he clung to the pre-war souvenirs his parents had left him when they died, and kept hoping that maybe one day, everything would be all right again. Maybe he could even marry Michelle then - she was a nice woman, and sometimes she even seemed to care about him.

But now, no. Not in the Vault. It would have to be special, not the sylized stuff they did here.

 

With another sigh, he shuffeled on.

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John walked up to Chuck and handed him the cigarette.

 

"Here ya go," John said, hoping maybe for a reply, possibly a thank you.

 

Chuck put the cigarette behind his ear and nodded his head, the only response that John would get out of him, then continued mopping the hall.

 

"Um, I didn't realize you were a smoker," John tried again.

 

Chuck shook his head.

 

"You're not a smoker, then what do you want the cigarete for?"

 

Chuck merely shrugged and kept mopping.

 

John sighed and walked away knowing the game was pointless, besides he didn't want to be late.

 

Chuck smiled. The cigarette would be useful in a small expirement he was trying, one to develop an anti-cigarette spray to get rid of the odor. When you have to recycle the same air over and over again, it takes longer for bad smells to dissappate. He could take this to the lab tonight, when he was supposed to be cleaning. No one would be there tonight so he couldn't get caught like he almost did this morning. Knocked over his lunch in his haste to get out too.

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Michelle sighed. Lenny was once again playing that old record of his and had turned up the volume all the way in spite of her asking several times not to do that. The song wasn't bad, but if you had to listen to it every single day it did become a little boring.

There was that, and she had a headache. She wanted to sleep, not listen to a song from before the war!

 

 

Maybe you'll think of me

when you are all alone

Maybe the one who is waiting for you

Will prove untrue, then what will you do?

 

 

With a sigh, she turned around, hoping that if she ignored it she'd fall asleep.

 

 

Maybe you'll sit and sigh

Wishing that I were there

Then mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb...

 

 

Not again! The old grammophone hung every time it came to that spot! Pulling the pillow over her head, she wondered angrily when he was going to fix it, or stop using it, or do whatever would make this go away!

 

 

mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb... mayb...

 

 

This was wrong ... Lenny loved that song as much as he did his grammophone, he'd never let it continue this long! With a sigh, Michelle got out of bed and slipped into her clothes. The door slid open as smoothly as always when she left her room, and so did that of Lenny's room. She didn't enter, though, instead she just stared, unable to scream or move.

 

When she did scream, almost everyone in the vault heard it and came running. Those who looked into Lenny's room saw the man lying on his bed, his glazed eyes staring surprisedly at the ceiling and his mouth still open in a scream that had been cut off before it could even begin to escape. Furthermore, somebody had used Lenny's blood to scrawl something on the wall.

 

 

Open the door.

 

 

OOC : It's now day phase. You have 48 hours to lynch someone ;)

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Cook didn't leave the kitchens when the scream was heard, she just kept pounding the dough for the garlic bread. Screams were not uncommon with so many kids around. This one sounded different, older, but Cook couldn't just leave her post. That kid Mary was a good one, too. She looked as if she wanted to go, but saw how none of the other helpers budged, and so stayed where she was.

 

Nevertheless, within half an hour everyone in the kitchens, probably everyone in the vaults, knew what had happened. A murder! Writing in blood! They want the door opened! No one in the vault had to question what door. The Door. The only Door on everyone's mind, in these vaults. The Door to Outside.

 

"I don't brook with such foolishness," Cook muttered. "Wanting to go Outside. We live for forty years underground and they want to go up again, put all that effort to waste, before we can certain we'll live through it. Nonsense!"

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Irwin glanced down at the map of the wheatfield, then at the meter mark in the concrete barrier and the sprinkler head screwed into the mark. "This one's gotta move," he nodded, and Billie Jo shut off the water valve before unscrewing the sprinkler head and tossing it into the cart. They walked down the aisle, Irwin counting each meter mark and comparing it to the water overlay on the map. "So," he said, shouting a bit over the echoing clack-clack of the cart's wheels, "you heard about Lenny?"

 

"Did he break his gramophone?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Did someone else break his gramophone?"

 

"Nope." Irwin stopped by another mark, and Billie Jo reached into the cart for a larger sprinkler head. "Murdered." She froze with her hand outstretched, then turned back to look at him. Irwin, uncharacteristically, kept talking. "Murderer wrote 'Open the Door' on the wall."

 

"Now that makes no sense," she retorted, turning back to the concrete barrier and screwing in the new sprinkler head. "Last murder I heard about was when someone bashed in Deacon's head for messing with his daughter."

 

"Your dad."

 

Billie Jo snorted. Pa had stayed by the body, hammer in hand, while Jessie Ann's husband escaped. Ma was dead by then, he didn't want to keep on living. "I don't see why they had to kill Pa. Lenny shouldn't've been killed either. He didn't have any keys to Outside." She twisted the water valve roughly. "Stupid's what it is."

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Mary was shocked. After all this time that the people of Vault 22 had been living together, why suddenly turn to murder? She had always known that it was such acts that caused the destruction of the earth in the first place, hadn't they learned anything?

She wanted to throw up, wanted to faint, but she also didn't want to appear weak.

ducking her head to hide her clammy complexion, Mary busied herself with the bread dough she was kneeding for Cook, her mind racing at the horrendous act that had just occured.

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When she heard the scream Irene came running out of Mr. Braggins' suite. People had already formed a crowd around the scene. Irene pushed her way through the crowd, but stopped at the edge. For a few seconds she simply stared at the crime scene. Then she turned and pushed her way back through the onlookers.

 

Emerging from the crowd, Irene hurried down the corridor again and dissapeared into Mr. Braggins' still open door.

 

"What're they making all that noise about?" The old man's voice, cranky and annoyed, floated out of the room.

 

"Mr. Braggins, Lenny's dead!"

 

"Dead?"

 

"Yeah! His wife screamed, 'cause--" The girl began to explain, but was interrupted by Mr. Braggins.

 

"Lots of folk are dead."

 

"Yes, but Lenny was murdered!" As she recounted the events, Irene's eyes shined with morbid excitement. It's not that she wanted Lenny dead, but finally, finally something had happened in this dusty old vault.

 

"Murdered? How do they know?"

 

"On the ceiling, in Lenny's own blood the killer wrote 'Open the door'!"

 

"'Open the door'? What kind of thing is that to write on a ceiling? How're we supposed to know what door they're talking about?"

 

"Mr. Braggins!" Irene said, in shocked exasperation. "The Door! The Door to Outside!"

 

For once Mr. Braggins was silent.

 

"What do you think, Mr. Braggins? Do you think they'll listen? Do you think they'll open the Door? Maybe if you talk to them Mr. Braggins, you're important!" Irene's words tumbled out excitedly, as she talked about the possibilities. Suddenly, she stopped, in mid sentence. "Mr. Braggins, who do you think it was? Whoever it was is really desperate to get out. Desperate enough to kill Lenny..."

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Kyraine looked at the samples and shook her head, sighing.

 

"Not again... I remember how, just a couple of years after the closing of the Door, we had a rebellion... people made insane, claustrophobic... thankfully it never came to killing, not after the first of them was thrown into the supervision program. He came back so tame that they got scared and quieted."

 

"I've read about it in the History classes, professor Morgan. But it happened at the very beginning. We are adapted by now, and the Overseer would know the right time to open the Door. People should trust his judgement."

 

The scientist nodded, some thoughts refusing to be buried in the recesses of her mind. The Overseer would know, yeah... but is he ready to accept the responsibility? Would he delay the Opening in spite of scientific proof it's already safe? How did all that radiation out there affect the genome, I wonder... what kinds of mutations would exist now? Maybe even some useful ones?

 

Forcing her mind back to the present situation, Kyraine again nodded at the young woman in Security uniform.

 

"I'll try to help, Ms. Sterling. Though I can't be sure what I'll find."

 

"We tried to get samples of the tissues and blood around the wound... and scraped under fingernails, also... "

 

These kids have been watching too much fake science movies...Aloud, Kyraine grunted. "I can run the genetic tests, typify the DNA, and get the small rare blood elements that might identify a person. But you do realize that it won't work unless we have a suspect, right? Or run tests on all the population of the Vault.

 

Shawn Sterling blushed, suddenly uncomfortable under the piercing look of that first-generation lady. Then, murmuring thanks and apologies, she left in a hurry.

 

When the door closed, Kyraine took some time preparing the samples, separating the cells from damaged tissue and using her skill to nudge the DNA out of the nuclei.

 

Such delicate work... delicate strands... just a cut and a sealing here, or there, and we'd have a completely different set of characteristics... new proteins, new enzimes... maybe something that can help us withstanding any residual radiation. I so wish I had more material to work with... I should talk to the Overseer, and ask him again permission for campaigning people to donate cells for research.

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As it was his job John rushed to investigate the source of the scream as soon as he heard it, running from the storage past the kitchen until he reached the source of the sound. Many people were already standing there, and after a cursory glance at the body John stood among them listening to what they said. All information he could come by could interest his superiors. A murder had happened. For several minutes John just listened to the gossip of everyone around him, noting some phrases. Then he remembered his duty.

 

"Listen to me everbody! This is a murder scene, and as there might be some evidence around here as to who the killer is, I would not like anyone touching anything. It would even be....it would be better if all of you just go outside. Yes. Everyone go outside if you will!"

 

Two of John's collegues just got there and helped him secure the murder scene while they waited for the arrival of their superior and the doctor, who would need to establish cause of death.

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DJ had been nowhere near when the murder had happened, but he fully agreed with what the killer had written on the wall. He chewed on a piece of bread he had stolen from the kitchen, and wandered to the gardens. He wished he knew who it had been. That way he maybe could have prevented it; he knew that these sorts of actions would lead to nothing. He sat down in a corner and quietly thought about what this would mean for his plans.

 

Would people now think that he had done it? And if so would they start watching him even more? DJ had been planning for a long time already that he wanted to get out, but it was simply ridiculous to kill people over it. What did that help? The killer must obviously be someone less smart. In his head he thought over the possibilities.

 

Irwin wasn’t the smartest of them all, but he could hardly imagine him even smart enough to kill someone. Hah, there would have been spelling mistakes in the words if it had been Irwin. Who else did he know that wanted to get out? It could have been Irene maybe. The silly girl was stupid enough to have done it. He though of his own love, but simply didn’t want to believe that it could have been her. Mary was way too lovely for this. He sighed, abandoned further thoughts about the murder, and mused about his English rose.

Edited by Sweetcherrie
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With a start DJ woke up. He looked around to see what had caused the noise he had just heard, and saw Irene walking around in between the gardens. The girl was mumbling to herself, and DJ made sure that he silently crawled out of sight.

 

“Man, I hope they’ll open up that door now. Life is waaay boring here. I can’t believe how some people have lived here all their lives, buncha stupids.”

 

Irene bent over to pick something from the floor, but DJ couldn’t see what it was. The girl disappeared and DJ was left with his own thoughts. He had already suspected her. Could it have been her? She had just given him a very good reason to think it had been her; Life was boring. But didn’t he think the same way? Yes, he did but the difference between them was that she was stupid enough to try to get what she wanted by murdering someone. He made up his mind; he would have to tell someone, but who?

 

OOC: vote for Dragonqueen / Irene Taylor

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Kyraine frowned, tapping the results sheet with a finger while thinking.

 

Not possible... with all the personality quirks, it's not possible. Murder? Too extreme... but I'm not a psych.

 

She sighed and looked at a picture on her table.

 

Darien... you were such a wonderful psychologist. And husband. I miss you, and your sharp mind.

 

After some more time looking and comparing results, Kyraine filed the results and locked the file cabinet.

 

Many have donated cells in the past, and the results are still there. There is some discrepancy, and I won't accuse anyone based on those results. Not when the charge is murder. And there are many ways his cells might have come in contact with the body... Security has all the right to handle a body, and that must be what has happened.

 

With a dry snort Kyraine went back to her scheduled experiments, keeping silent about what she had tracked. However, in a corner of her mind, the image of the results sheet refused to disappear completely.

 

~~~~~~

OOC: Accusing John Doe/Patrick Durham. (Nothing personal, just convenient IC... ;));

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Somehow the rumour spread and before long the people at Security heard it too. Robert McDullough was among those who heard it and he still had a mistake to make up for. A few months ago he hadn't acted quickly enough and because of that a few people ended up in the medical bay. It had been an accident back then, a steel beam that had come undone, and it had been secured afterwards, but he'd still taken a lot of heat for it.

 

He was not going to make the same mistake again. By the time the rumour reached his ears there were at least 23 witnesses who had seen Irene leave Lenny's room right before he was found dead, never mind the fact that mostly everyone had already been in their rooms by then.

 

Five minutes later, Robert showed up at Irene's door, escorted by two Security guys.

 

“Ms Taylor?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You are hereby accused of murder. We will lock the door to your room. You will be brought food at regular times until we figure out what to do with you.”

 

“But I ... are you saying ... Lenny?”

 

“I'm afraid so ms Taylor. Now please retreat into your room.”

 

Still unable to believe it, Irene took a step backwards, feeling as though this was nothing but a bad dream, and watched as the door closed before her.

 

 

 

OOC : Due to a storm, a good book, dinner, and RL in general the first day phase has been extended until this post.

 

As of now, it is night phase. You have 24 hours to roleplay (and the Special Roles to send me pm's), but no accusations or speculations!

Edited by Venefyxatu
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Mary wandered through the corridors, lost in her own thoughts.

Ever since the murder, it had seemed as if everyone within the vault had lost their mind. Even though they had locked Ms Taylor up, which should have solved the problem, no one had calmed down at all. Everyone was edgy, jittery, fights were started for no reason, even her own father - who was one of the gentlest men within the vault - was growing short of temper for no apparent reason.

Sighing softly, Mary pulled out of her ponderings as she realised her feet had carried her to the vault's main door. She looked at it for a moment, before turning back, shivering as if a goose had walked over her grave.

 

On her way back to her room, Mary bumped into DJ, who's eyes immediately lit up at her sudden appearance.

"My darling!" he cried. "How are you this lovely day?"

Mary sighed softly as he altered his course to walk with her - she was in no mood to deal with his usual banter. "Hello Derrick," she said softly, eyes cast downwards as she continued back to her room.

 

DJ frowned in confusion, placing a hand on Mary's shoulder to stop her and get her to turn and look at him. "This isn't like you, Mary," he noted, "what's wrong?"

"I just don't like the way recent events have turned everyone's mood around here," came the short reply as Mary shook her head and hugged herself.

"Yeah, it's nuts," DJ agreed, grinning widely in an attempt to cheer his crush's mood. "But I'll always be here to cheer you up!"

 

Taking advantage of the situation, DJ wrapped his arms around Mary in a hug, saddened at her stiff reception.

"You need to cheer up my English Rose, glumness does not suit your pretty face."

To his utter joy, DJ felt Mary sigh and relax, accepting the hug properly before stepping back.

"Thank you, Derrick. Have a good evening."

And just like that, she was gone, heading back to her room and leaving DJ standing in a mini world of bliss, wondering vaguely what he was doing before he had been so wonderfully interrupted.

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It had taken John and several of his collegues more than four hours to gather all the evidence they could find at the murder scene and by that time Robert had already placed Irene under arrest, based upon several witness accounts. The day had been long for John, but still he knew that he had to report to his superior, about all he had seen during the day. He went to security headquarters, and entered the metal structure. Inside he asked for the "boss" and was told that he could go and talk to him. Half an hour later John was nearing the end of his account.

 

"...so the death was probably instantaneous, right?"

 

"Yes sir. At least he died painlessly."

 

"Thank you John. I know you have done much today, but I would like you to take the first watch of the night where Irene is locked up. Try talking to her. I'd prefer to have more to go on than just eye witness accounts."

 

"Understood, sir!"

 

John walked slowly back towards his home. He still had half an hour before he had to go to Irene's place. He had a quick shower and told his wife of the days events. Derrick James was not home yet, but John did not want to argue with him at the moment.

 

Arriving at Irene's home John replaced Robert, who was glad to be able to finally go home. He waited until movement around the home died down and then knocked on the door, thinking he would ask Irene for her version of the facts, pretending that it could help her.

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Richard sat on his bed, staring at his hands. He had cancelled all his "appointments" for the next few days shortly after hearing of Lenny's murder.

 

His knobby knuckles popped a bit as he flexed his fingers closed, then open again.

 

These used to create such wonder, he thought, and the anguish on his lined face deepened. Now, they create nothing. Nothing but clawing and scrabbling like the only other survivors. Cockroaches.

 

A certain look solidified his face, even through the gloom. He stood, and with a rough brush at his wrinkled vault suit, Braggins strode out of his room.

 

'Now war arose in heave, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon; and the dragon and his angels fought, but they were defeated and there was no longer any place for them in heaven.'

 

God, how ostentatious a prologue is quoting anything out of Revelation?

Richard shook his head in disgust.

 

Now it'll be impossible to get a gun.

 

I'm certainly not going to slit my wrists...

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The corridors of the Vault were already empty, but someone was still walking through them. Her footsteps were echoing off the walls, and the sound got into some of the air vents where it kept echoing, weaker every time. Yet when it reached DJ's ears, it were not weakened so much he didn't recognise the sound.

He'd been sitting on his bed because he couldn't sleep, pondering exactly how boring this Vault was, but he sat up straight now. Those footsteps! Why was his English Rose walking around at night?

Quietly he slipped into his clothes and snuck out of his bedroom. His parents were already asleep, fortunately, and he had no problem getting out of their quarters. Hurrying after the footsteps, he had a good idea of where she was going – but what would she want to do in the kitchens at night? Had she forgotten something? He quickened his pace a bit, and started running flat out when the footsteps suddenly stopped.

As he came closer, he could hear gagging sounds. With his heart racing as quickly as his feet he turned the last corner, only to see someone dropping her dead body to the ground. With a scream coming straight from his heart, DJ launched himself at the killer who was temporarily surprised by the furious and unexpected attack.

The killer recovered quickly, however, and ran into the wall, making sure that the young assailant took the full hit. With a grin, the killer heard DJ gasp for breath and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

 

“You had to show up at the wrong moment, didnt' you? Too bad for you, I can't have any witnesses here.”

 

Three times DJ was slammed against the wall, and after that the now dead body was dropped to the floor, next to Mary's. The killer was long gone by the time the bodies were found.

 

 

OOC : The night's kill was twofold : Mynx / Mary and Sweetcherrie / DJ did not survive to see another day.

It is now day phase. You have 48 hours (more or less ;) ) to make another attempt at finding the killer.

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