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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

WWXXII : A Post Nuclear WereWolf Game


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Irwin yawned, and woke up.

 

There seemed to be an awful lot of hustle and bustle going on this morning. Why anyone would be in a great hurry down here, he did not know. It was just another day with just the same lights, the same foods, the same everything. Nothing new under the bulbs.

 

As he dressed and opened his door to go get some breakfast, he heard people saying "Mary" and "DJ" and "murdered".

 

Perhaps today might have a bit more to it after all, he thought to himself.

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Billie Jo wheeled the cart out of the orchard aisles, then pushed it through to the kitchen, but yesterday's cart didn't emerge. She knocked on the door and waited, but got no response. When Billie Jo opened the door and walked through, she saw only Cook, chopping so swiftly the knife was blurred, sending up a shower of watermelon juice. She looked at the dents in the cutting board as she approached the opposite side. Cook proffered a knife with her other hand, handle first.

 

"Cook!"

 

Cook didn't look up. "Chop something, anything. We're having a buffet today with all those people dropping in and out of here, and have I got my kitchen helpers here? No, they're off gawking somewhere." She swished the knife across the board and the cubes of watermelon flew into a large bowl.

 

Billie Jo took the knife and an apple from the cart, then slowly peeled strips of skin off of it. Cook grabbed another and shucked its skin off, then snatched the apple out of the other woman's hand and thrust the peeled one at her. "I thought the younguns were getting impatient, the way younguns do," Billie Jo began, chopping the apple. "But I heard two more were dead. Barely have any left, soon."

 

"I certainly don't have any left in here," Cook muttered, flicking apple chunks into the bowl and grabbing a pear from the cart. "Someone strangled the only one I could rely on to not go gallivanting off. I locked up all the knives and took the key home with me, and told them all to not even think about taking any home, self-defense shmelf-defense, and what happens?" She gouged new lines into the cutting board, dicing the apple into microscopic chunks.

 

After depositing the cut apple into the bowl, Billie Jo laid down the knife and went back into the gardens. Nobody had been knifed.

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Morning arrived, but to John it did not bring any salvation after the night's events. After his nightmareish dreams, he had been torn out of uneasy slumber by the horrible news. It would have been his duty to go and inspect the scene of the crime, but he just couldn't bring himself to go there. His own son DJ. Why? Why did he have to die? What had he done to anger anyone? And that other child, Mary. John had seen Derrick with Mary several times before, but what could they have been doing out at night? If only...

 

"If only I could have at least told him that I love him..." - John said half an hour later to the priest.

 

"God loves us all John, and you know that."

 

John had been religious ever since he had known, but this night's events had rocked his beliefs.

 

"If God loves us, then why didn't he save my son?"

 

The priest, slightly at unease, averted his eyes from John.

 

"He must have judged that for Derrick James it was time."

 

"What? Is that all you can say? My son was meant to die? For heaven's sake, he was only 15 years old. He still had several decades of life to look forward to."

 

"There is no use in angering yourself John. God works in mysterious ways and I can not strive to be able to fully understand him, and can not always give you an explanation."

 

"This is a messed up world...seems to me that he has abandoned us. How else would all these wars have happened? How else would my innocent little boy have been murdered? Does God even care?"

 

"Of course he cares. Think of it this way, John. Maybe Derrick James is in a better place, where there is no more suffering."

 

"He wasn't suffering in life. He was living a happy life. You're not helping me, reverend! WHY DID MY SON HAVE TO DIE? Damn you and your stupid god!"

 

John stood up from his chair and strode to the door, which he slammed behind himself. A tear started slowly rolling down his cheek and John did not bother trying to stop it.

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After Billie Jo left the kitchens, Cook slumped over the counter for a moment. It was all getting to be too much. She blamed her helpers for running off, but she did understand why they had. Old Lenny killed one day, and then so soon after, two of the Vault's children, found dead. Who had done it, and why were they so willing to kill youths to make their point?

 

The thing that Cook didn't understand was why they hadn't figured it out yet. There weren't all that many people in the vaults. How come they weren't able to find fingerprints or something, to find the killer? Then Cook realized that it could well be one of the investigators or scientists in charge of that. The thought made her a little afraid, but lunch had to be made, and no one was helping. Getting back to the preparations, Cook resolved to tell someone of her suspicions when she next had the chance.

 

OOC: Vote for Tanuchan / Kyraine

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That morning Kyraine looked again at all her files. The news of two more deaths had set her in an urgent mood.

 

More deaths... and young ones. The people we will need once we can go out again. That's so plain wrong! Whoever the killer is, we should catch them before they ruin the genetic pool of this population!

 

Hours later, she shook her head with a sight. There was nothing wrong with her conclusions of the previous day, and not even a new analysis showed something new. The samples Security had brought her this time were incredibly messed up, and she had found traces of at least 5 different types of DNA and marker proteins.

 

Kyraine sat down on her couch, and forced herself to relax and let her mind wander. Years ago she had learned that it was the best thing to trigger her subconscious, and more than once she had got clues for her research in this way.

 

They weren't more than children. Where do children go for mischief?

 

The kitchen... the Cook.

 

But Mary was her best helper...

 

DJ was always after Mary.

 

DJ was always in the kitchen, I have seen him around the corridors near it several times. Surely Cook wouldn't appreciate that.

 

Cook... sending meals I haven't asked. I should have asked those grandchildren of mine if they had asked for that meal... I keep forgetting it!

 

Cook. But nowhere in my material I found Cook's genetic signature. Maybe I should work on them again... it's always easier to analyse material when there's something definite to compare it with.

 

Now, where did I file those old results? I'm sure once, long ago, Cook donated some cells...

 

~~~~~~~

OOC: a vote for Cook/Katzaniel... for now ;)

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"...So that's what I think is going on," Cook finished, looking toward the door and already planning about the spices for tonight's dinner.

 

"That's interesting," John replied, trying to sound casual. "I've heard suspicions about you."

 

Cook made a sound that came out halfway as "Me" and the rest of the way as "What!?" She sputtered for a moment, then visibly calmed herself, and replied, "Lenny never caused me any trouble. And maybe I look suspicious because DJ was always around the kitchens and in the way. But Mary? How could anybody think I would hurt Mary? I like her as much as any adult! More even! And the vault doors... I think opening them is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! How could anyone...?"

 

John rearranged the things on his desk a little. "You mean liked." He glanced at Cook and cowered momentarily from her glare before recovering himself. He cleared his throat. "Ms.... Cook. I'm not saying that I suspect you. I'm just saying, there are rumours."

 

Cook shook her head. "I think the whole thing is nonsense. I..." The woman lowered her head and cut off. "Well, keep an eye out for Kyraine at least, will you? I've got to go." She hurried out of the room, determined to tell as many others as she could.

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"Yes, it's a terrible tragedy. No, I can't imagine why someone would kill poor Lenny. Man's inhumanity to man, it's so true."

 

It seemed to Richard that this was all he said when visiting with his "friends" these days. Or that was all they wanted him to say. Disgust and anxiety roiled inside him.

 

Leaving his conversation on autopilot, Richard let his thoughts drift to Pikes, to the revolt, and finally back to the war. Rounding that off with dark thoughts of these people's apparent disinterest in talking about Irene, the bile rose in the back of his throat. He washed it down with another scotch.

 

 

(OOC: a vote for Quincunx/Billie Jo)

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When lunchtime came, Billie Jo went back to her locker before remembering no one had pre-made lunches that day. She joined the few others in the dining room, mostly a cluster of privileged rich, but kept her distance and filled her plate with fruit salad and a cup of bean soup--meat was for the privileged rich, not for the buffet. "Cook," she remarked, leaning across the closed tureen, "why're all those people still here?"

 

"Most of the laborers cleared out before they got here!" Cook retorted. Billie Jo sighed. "They tried to get special meals alright, but no, I said, buffet for everyone if you are all going to be dropping in all day! Kyraine's grandkids took a plate out to her, and I'll like to see her come in and blame me for that one," Cook waggled the ladle and spattered the table with bean soup, "not that she seems to be making much progress with whatever she's doing in that lab." She flung the ladle onto a spoon-rest and began wiping up the droplets.

 

Billie Jo looked across the room and saw the man John had spoken about. He was standing in the middle of a knot of privileged people, nodding and chattering--"Yes, Melinda, reprehensible"--but his eyes were distant. The youngun looked like Irene at first glance, but her eyebrows were also blonde, and she stepped alongside Mr. Braggins as though by accident. He turned, however, to another man on his left and gave Melinda his back. Billie Jo changed her mind, sat down, and started eating.

 

OOC: Vote for Kyraine (Tanuchan).

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Kyraine finished her coffee, nodding agreement to Richard. Both used to share some small talk, having known the world as it was before the War and not having much more people their age to share those memories with.

 

"Billy Jo?"

 

"They're saying it could be you, too. You know, all that talk of your experimentation with mutant DNA, and how it could help people to survive out there."

 

She snorted, and actually laughed. "That's ridiculous. Although I think opening the Door isn't that bad an idea, I certainly wouldn't kill young people for that! Their genetic pool cannot be lost, Richard!"

 

"Well, that's what you say, Kyraine. Personally, I understand their fear... scientists started the War - I mean, they gave the means to that war. Another one could be plotting to redeem the whole class."

 

"I think you've been dawdling too much, dear friend... you should use all those ideas in a book. I'm sure it would be a good one, and I could help you out the scientific parts..."

 

Billy Jo? I still suspect Cook...

 

 

Billy Jo?

 

 

~~~~~~~

OOC: Well... at least a chance to survive... ;)Changing vote to Quincunx/Billy Jo

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Robert McDullough sighed. Even though they had a suspect locked up, there had been another kill. Two kills even! But what did that mean? That he was wrong, or that there was more than one killer? Could he take the risk and set her free again? No! After all, releasing her would harm his reputation more than keeping her locked up, guilty or innocent.

And thank God, the secure rooms were ready by now. He'd have her transferred there immediately. And she'd have company, too, although not in the same room. He'd been picking up more rumours, and the latest was that Billie Jo was behind it. With a sigh he rubbed his chin – a tiny part of his mind was kicking him, and screaming that he shouldn't believe them, that he should lock people up based on results, and evidence, and other things like that. With an irritated grunt, he got up and called some of his men.

 

Robert McDullough had made a decision.

 

The two groups arrived more or less at the same time at the secure rooms – Irene's eyes flashed towards Billie Jo and back to her own fingers. Billie Jo didn't acknowledge her, but instead tried one last time to convince her escort of her innocense.

 

“Look, why would I go around killing people? I can make a living here, I've got no reason to want out that badly. Besides, Jake, you should know I've got an extra income, too”

 

Jake's cheek got a little red and he looked away uncomfortably.

 

“Yes, I do, and I never really thought it was you, but ... you know, mr. McDullough gives orders and I have to follow them ...”

 

His voice trailed off under her gaze, but Billie Jo resigned herself to it.

 

“All right, lock me up then.”

 

As she was ushered into the room, Jake slipped her a pack of cigarettes with a whispered, “I'm sorry.” Then the door was closed.

 

 

OOC : The random numbers were not in favour of Quincunx / Billie Jo Pike

Feel free to keep posting though, as long as you don't influence the others!

(do I still need to say that? :blink: )

 

It's night phase. Special roles, you have 24 hours to pm me your targets! As always, no voting or speculations ...

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The next morning, there was chaos for breakfast. The kitchen helpers were unable to get themselves organised, and since Cook was nowhere to be seen to create some order, most peoples stomachs stayed empty.

When one of the braver assistants went to Cooks quarters and knocked on her door, he got no answer. Afraid of what he'd find, he didn't open the door himself, but instead went to Security. By the time he came back with a worried-looking Security officer, a crowd had gathered around the door, wondering what would be found. The Security officer got even more worried from everyone staring at him, but despite the shaking hands managed to get the door open.

 

The scene in Cooks room looked similar to that in Lennys – only here there was no grammophone stuck on one spot of a record. Cook was lying in her bed, her unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling, the biggest knife in the kitchen still stuck in her chest. From the broken furniture it was obvious that she'd put up a fight, but obviously it hadn't been enough to save her.

 

The Security officer quickly closed the door again and sent someone back to Security to fetch Robert McDullough. He was in charge, he'd know what to do...

When the latter came to, he immediately took charge.

 

“You. You're one of the kitchen assistants, right? Get yourself and the others back to the kitchens, you're in charge now. Make sure breakfast is served within half an hour.”

 

The assistant gulped but left the scene, taking with him the rest of the kitchen staff.

 

“All the rest of you, get back to your quarters and stay there until breakfast is served. I don't need an audience here! Go on, go!”

 

It took some more insisting, but eventually the crowd was dispersed and Robert could enter Cooks room calmly. The first thing he noticed was that there was another text scrawled on the wall.

 

No food, no life, no Vault. Open it.

 

 

OOC : The night brings the death of Katzaniel/Cook. Better find the killer(s), or get that door open ;)

It's now day phase. In 48 hours, there will hopefully be enough votes to lynch someone ...

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Lenny...

 

The kids... DJ and Mary.

 

Cook.

 

 

The ones who have been locked... Irene, and Billie Jo.

 

The ones who have been talked about... Cook, and myself.

 

 

Kyraine sighed, half-throwing her pencil across the table.

 

"There's no meaning in all this," she mumbles to herself. "There's not enough genetic pattern in whatever material I received. There's nothing visible in the deaths. I wish you'd be here, Darien..."

 

She forced herself to relax, her eyes following the patterns of the genetic maps in front of her. Then she thought of the people who had talked to her, the ones who had visited her lab, those who had brought material for her research.

 

Richard Braggins... writer. Someone who hasn't written anything since the Door was closed. Someone who needs inspiration... that usually comes from the small hints of life. Life, and its variety.

 

What variety is there in a Vault? Not even genetic variety would survive after enough generations... life-style surely doesn't stand a chance. What would I do if all of a sudden everything that drives my research was pooled and molded into just one big thing?

 

I might wish for variety. For .... life outside.

 

Is that what drives Richard? Could it be?

 

 

Kyraine picked one of the sheets of paper, glanced at the results printed all over it, and then tore it slowly in two. Then in four. And eight.

 

"There's no scientific way to get them, is there? Unless I get a good, perfect sample to analyse. And whoever it was, it's not taking any chances."

 

She tossed the torn pieces of paper into the recycling slot.

 

Richard and myself are becoming dinosaurs... old generation, who will be extinct soon. How many of us are there still? And how many of us want to live outside again? I surely would like to see the sun again before I die... but not enough to risk the entire population. But I have to think also... all the possibilities of the mutations out there. All the material that my research would have. Something that others could pick after I go... and continue, and use to help repopulate the planet.

 

I would risk it myself, I would go out for the chance. I could even ask the Overseer to open the Door just for myself and a small group of volunteers... but I know he won't do it. Not unless it is in utmost secrecy.

 

I wouldn't risk the whole Vault for my samples.

 

Would Richard do it, for a chance to write again?

 

 

~~~~~~~

OOC: A vote for Richard Braggins/Ozymandias

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Tears fell from Chuck's eyes. He'd always had a weak stomache for blood and death, a direct result of losing all of his family to the war beyond the doors. He wanted nothing to do with the world beyond those doors. But now that world was seeping into his vault. it had taken the life of two adults... and two... children. Chuck threw up empty air, like many others, he hadn't eaten anything since the death of Cook.

 

It was obvious to him that someone behind the scenes was responsible for these deaths, no ordinary killer could have evaded the security without being a part of it themselves. He suspected that Kyraine lady. So cool and calm and collected, like the rest of them. as long as nothing got out of hand they could easily take them out one by one. well he was about to get "out of hand."

 

It would not take long for the others to notice the children were missing, but they need not worry, the children were hidden, safe where those mindless killers couldn't reach them. no one but him and the Overseer knew where he had hidden them.

 

Now whas the time to rid the Vault of the evil that had seeped in. Lets see how these calm, collected killers handled a little darkness. Smiling, Chuck cut the power to the lights in the Vault.

 

OOC: Kyraine, Tanuchan

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The lights blinked and went out, right in the middle of Kyraine's delicate work. Cursing in a very little lady-like way, she sat down carefully and sighed.

 

Riiiiight... one more sample lost.

 

Does it mean now that there's someone who wants the darkness for its unexcusable work? We have never had power failures before; just scheduled ones for maintenance, and in parts of the Vault.

 

Who can have access to main power switch and the backups?

 

That janitor guy... the one no one seems to notice.

 

No one has ever thought of him, right... always quite invisible. I wonder.

 

 

I wonder if I'm getting paranoid. Hah!

 

 

Shrugging, Kyraine just sat and let her thoughts wander. Darkness could be a blessing for a tired mind.

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Irwin wasn't going to be pleased when he found out about the rosebushes. Sure, he wouldn't object to them growing except that the Vault codex didn't list them, but once he realized she had to get that soil from somewhere. . . .Billie Jo looked glum. Laborers had enough versatility that they could be fired. What was next? Kitchen apprenticeship?

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Melinda had spent days circling around the edges of things, listening when she appeared to be busy with something else, loosing anger and outrage and watching reactions to it, throwing tantrums and pouting at those who "were supposed to protect them" in hopes of seeing who really cared about doing so - and who didn't. So far, most everything matched up. Almost.

 

Taking advantage of the darkness, she curled up on her bed to think about all she'd seen and heard in the last few days. Some of it seemed downright senseless, even for one who was used to hearing all kinds of things about people!

 

Irwin - as she rolled thoughts of him about, perhaps the only truly odd thing there was to notice was how few thoughts there were. He seemed no more than normally interested in what was happening, or in going Outside. Irwin was dismissed from her thoughts easily.

 

Chuck - her eyes narrowed a bit as she thought about him and the probability that the current darkness had something to do with him. "But what? And why?" He could cut power, to almost anything, and few indeed would see him do it or even think about him. He'd always been a bit unusual, but unusual enough to kill? Melinda shook her head thoughtfully. Even the darkness was most likely petty vengeance for Cook being gone. He always did get a bit "off" when he missed a meal.

 

Kyraine - Melinda stopped in deep thought, considering all she'd seen and heard. There was quite a lot of speculation about Kyraine's willingness to force the door open to test her research and gather samples and assorted other wild claims. Could any of them be true? Kyraine was of the first generation, would she be that desperate to see results of her research within her lifetime? Melinda considered carefully, then rejected the idea. She'd watched Kyraine carefully, not just recently, because there had always been a lingering suspicion of what people didn't understand. Kyraine was a scientist, first and foremost. She'd never be so reckless.

 

Richard - Melinda's eyes narrowed. This one just didn't make sense. He seemed quite taken with Irene, even wanting to talk about her despite everyone else's discomfort, yet he never protested her innocence. Maybe he knew she wasn't? Or maybe it was because she knew HE wasn't? He'd been a fabulously successful author Outside, but in the Vault had been able to create - nothing. How desperate would he be to get back Outside, in hopes of being able to write again? Would he sacrifice others in that faint hope? Why not? He'd sacrificed Irene on the altar of public opinion. Perhaps this plot was his creation? Melinda lay curled up in deep thought until she finally fell asleep.

 

 

OOC: a vote against Richard/Ozymandias

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After a few hours of darkness, everyone who was able to seemed to have gathered in the big dining rooms. Even though most didn't like admitting it, nobody liked being in the dark in the Vault - it reminded too much of a tomb like this, especially with the deaths occuring lately. People were talking quietly, but whatever the subject, most conversations drifted towards the murders and, of course, speculations.

 

"Kyraine doesn't seem to care very much."

 

"Always in that laboratory ..."

 

"... wonder what she's doing there."

 

"Mr. Braggins?"

 

"Yeah, they say ..."

 

"But he won ..."

 

"And what does that prove?"

 

"... wants to go outside."

 

Robert McDullough had a splitting headache, and he had also heard enough. He was sick and tired of these murders, he was fed up with it continuing even though he already had two people locked up, and he was pretty sure that Kyraine was only trying to help. Together with two of his Security guys he made his way through the darkness to where he could hear Richard's voice.

 

"Richard Braggins, come with me. I have a feeling the killing will stop if I lock you up."

 

The writer got up, angrily, and made as if to come along. With a sudden gesture, though, he grabbed a knife from the table and lunged for Robert. His two Security guys were alert, however, and didn't hesitate. Two dry shots sounded, and the writer sunk to the ground, sighing.

 

"No... Irene ... I only wanted ..."

 

The crowd in the dining room was silent as his unconscious body was dragged to the secure rooms.

 

Posted Image

 

After that day, there were no more killings. The Vault door remained closed.

 

Posted Image

 

 

OOC : Ozymandias / Richard was the second wolf ... congratulations to the villagers! Check the OOC thread for more details on other roles.

Edited by Venefyxatu
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