The Toy-Maker's Dilemma

[TennyoCeres84]

"Well, now that we have the 411 on the spindles and the boxes, Tam's going to inspect the Hellraiser box in a safe environment, what's our purpose going to be?" Aislinn asked.

[Karl the Mad]

"If you're that uncertain, go see Jimmy Winters for a divination," Katherine remarked, rolling her eyes. It seemed exciting, to put it plainly; just the sort of thing to while away the day, pretending to be a PI while still following orders. Technically. "Maybe we should check out the most recent scene? Or if Fulton is something at least pretending to be coherent we could get a statement from him." We, always we, she remembered. Never I.

[IamLEAM1983]

"We are to find out who carried these murders, and if mister Gammell is indeed involved," summarized Archie.

Aidan pushed himself off the wall. "I'll get a notepad, then. We'll need to go around questioning relatives of the deceased or get the local precincts to allow us to take a peek. Either we split the sixteen murder cases between us - which is a lot - or we focus on the bigger, flashier kills. You just don't murder the artist wife of a Clank a day before her lavishly covered exhibition begins if you don't have some sort of statement to make. A defined purpose."

"Agreed," nodded Percival. "Of these momentous slayings, there are three. Twice in the mortal realm, once in mine County."

Archie nodded. "Phyllis Laidlaw, late wife of Virgil Laidlaw, who himself was a protégé of our local Karthian esthete. She died clutching the box Tam has been entrusted with. George Sanderson, heavy lifter and loader for Astoria Developments. An excessively taxed main spring and the hacked penile enhancement that had drawn from it caused a systematic breakdown of all mechanisms. A shard impacted his phylactery at sufficiently high speeds, thereby piercing it and freeing Sanderson's soul. Egimbart of Frosthall, Knight Evergloam. Was found with his arms flayed into pieces in his living room by members of Sir Percival's guard, with another box lying amongst the grisly remains of his fellow gruff's upper limbs."

Three eyed Aislinn. "A dead woman, a dead Clank or a dead gruff. Take your pick. First case and we're already gonna look at dead bodies."

He sighed, mostly for his own benefit. "Fun times for all. We might check out Winters or some other Diviner while we're at it, but I remember how it used to work back in the field. If the battalion's Sensitive didn't pick up angered spirits on the first pass through, that meant they'd moved on. Forensics will've already let its own Diviners loose at each of the crime scenes; Archie would've mentioned something to that effect, otherwise. Someone staying behind because of the blunt-force spiritual trauma."

[TennyoCeres84]

AIslinn sighed and shrugged. "I'll take Laidlaw. Whoever we choose, we're in for a major case of fucked-upness."

Neasa nodded. "I'll take Egimbart," she said, getting her own notepad and pen.

"That just leaves me with Sanderson," Ciaran stated.

[Karl the Mad]

Katherine still wanted to talk to Fulton, even if it might prove fruitless. "You think there's nothing to be gained from Fulton?" she asked. "I'm sure Mister Kuhn won't mind if I lend you guys a hand. I'll go with the Laidlaw group." That seemed the most political of the killings, at least to her, and perhaps there'd be something to see in the art itself, or in the way it all connected to other stuff. She couldn't help but think it'd be fun, and tried to squash the notion; this was serious, not a day off.

[IamLEAM1983]

Archie eyed Katherine thoughtfully and settled with tapping on his cane's pommel. "Hm. Insanity is never given its dues, after all. I will speak to Fulton - if dialogue is even possible... I suspect the physical trauma will have forced him on high levels of sedation. No physician would want this poor soul to spend the remainder of his days alternating between laughing fits and searing agony."

He then looked to Percy again and then gave everyone a quick bow of his head. "You know your assignments; I suggest you see to them. Full reports will be expected by the end of the day."

Three nodded. "I'm going for Laidlaw too."

In the meantime, Percy approached Neasa. "Wouldst thou accept my company, Lady Neasa? If one of the Fae is to open a gate to Evergloam for thee, I stand at thine disposal. Knight Harry Benson, Lieutenant in East Willowdale, will be waiting for us to deliver his account of the murder."

***

The old toy store was in Old Hope, at the thickest point of Pickman Sound. Following the Q out of the city, Tam would be treated to lessened traffic, the sudden encroaching scent of iodine in the air and the sight of the growing corn fields marking a pleasant contrast against the city's packed atmosphere. The sound of crashing waves and the call of hungry, questing seagulls was never too far behind, either.

As usual, Old Hope stood as a quaint little assembly of wooden sidewalks and vintage storefronts; little cafés and gelaterias promising relief from the early summer heat. Cody Tanner's residence could almost be guessed at if she passed by the right street and glanced between two other houses, the quaint little English manor house fitting in surprisingly well with the bicentennial constructions and the occasional sight of a still-standing house dating back to the seventeenth century, all in rough stones and wooden windowsills.

Gammell's toy store looked... quaint, honestly. An oversized bungalow with a front terrace, a few benches and an exterior in dark woods that was lightened up by a judicious dose of landscaping. A lovingly carved and regularly repainted wooden sign hung from a post near the porch, showing an old man with an apron and friendly mutton chops hammering away at a wooden nut-cracker with a little wooden gavel. It was a far cry from the more adult-oriented store you could find in Sheffield, where the surface was divided between chamber music for the more randy traditional automatons, and soprano saxophone solos à la Kenny G for more modern Clanks looking for some quality time... There was even a little soundproofed nook where today's models had access to fairly BDSM-worthy implements, presented in a rather forgettable wash of Industrial music.

Considering, Zainall being called to the actual toy store spoke of the employees' ability and tendency to be rotated between the two establishments. It wasn't because you were working with toy soldiers and more harmless mechanical puzzles that you didn't know about the fairly ingeniously wicked bits and bobs the elusive owner put together for his more discerning clientèle.

Inside, things were more or less as she could've expected. Pre-teens and children gawping in wonderment at this or that wind-up little marvel, with slightly older kids already lacking the ability to see the simple magic of these decidedly pricey and antiquated toy models. Monkeys that beat little cymbals together with a few crank turns only went so far, and even the most tantalizing of educational puzzles wouldn't beat a PS7 and bleeding-edge graphics.

On the other hand, this would certainly feel new to Tam. Paradise's definition of play typically involved mocking the grown-ups' attempts at back-stabbing or aggressive takeovers. If you could sift through the weapon-smiths and engineers' discarded cruft and make yourself a sweet hover-scooter or mag-lev trike before your sixteenth birthday, you were in luck. Playing without having the feeling that you'd end up doing it for real, later on? That was a new one, to say the least.

Considering, most Drifters didn't really understand the appeal of role-play in any age or form. Some exceptions existed, of course, but the prevailing notion was that if you couldn't use that to practice for some con you'd need to run or some coup you were putting together against a rival gang; there was no real use for it.

Childlike wonderment had never been in tremendous supplies, in Gilese's orbit...

[TennyoCeres84]

"Of course, Sir Percival. I'd be glad to have you open a gate for me," Neasa replied, nodding.

Aislinn eyed Three. "Well, let's get going, Three, Ms. Starr," she said, gesturing toward the door.

Ciaran also grabbed a notepad and looked to Bucky. "You going along with anybody? If not, you're welcome to join me," he said.

[Weirdlet]

She took a moment, glancing at the shop's display floor in appreciation of the bright colors, the carnival-if-not-arcade-like atmosphere. Tam was not from a place that appreciated pandering to the soft parents of softer children, true- but such fine things could be appreciated, that somewhere in the world was such a chill and peaceful place that the luxury of play could be worshipped in skillful style.

But she had a mission and a mysterious puzzlebox burning a hole in her pocket. Looking up, Tam scanned for any enterprising-looking associate, someone who could take her to get her questions answered.

[IamLEAM1983]

Phyllis Laidlaw and her husband had lived in Naughton, in the gentrified, formerly industrial corner of town where pricey full-storey lofts were now commonplace. Shield's marked car came at a stop in front of an old factory that still carried the faded traces of its former purpose. The bricks were notably paler where lettering had been affixed to the front of the building, more than a hundred years ago. Meer Fisheries and Cannery was long gone now, replaced by Indian Acres. Your average pretentious loft complex, then.

Unsurprisingly, a pair of officers waited at the door. Three produced his badge from his jacket pocket and gave one of the men a smile. None of them smiled back, merely opening the door for him and Aislinn with a look of quiet disapproval. Evidently, the mayor's initiative had yet to make its way into the force's hearts. Once they were out of earshot and out of sight, Three lightly scoffed. "Gee, I hope all our visits are greeted so cordially. These two guys made me feel so wanted!" he sarcastically quipped.

It was inconvenient, but understandable. Shield was a newcomer on the field, playing in the sandbox the cops usually had entirely for themselves. These newcomers were trampling on cop ground, more or less, and hadn't received much more than an accelerated round of technical training. Worse still, they didn't yet have someone to advise or train them in the ways of Special Response cases! Hope had a bunch of sanctioned vigilantes walking around, and none of them knew how to take down vampires, dragons or supervillains yet!

Once on the top floor, the smell of blood hit their nostrils. Much to their surprise, one of the few Karthians in town who could seriously look troubled or shaken was hovering near the Laidlaws' door. Anastasius Mentalistevich wore suit pants, a dark turtleneck and a tweed jacket, one arm seemingly preoccupied with hugging his own waist out of obvious emotional distress, while the other nervously fidgeted with a few of his beard-like tendrils.

"Mister Romanov," said Three in a breath of surprise, "we didn't expect to see you here. Did you-?"

The reformed and unusually sensitive former dictator looked rather shaken. "Yes," he managed, his Russian accent carrying a sense of mortified distinction. "I did know them, young man. Phyllis was to present her works in one of my galleries. She had been unresponsive to my repeated hails for many days, now, to the point where concern drove me to knock at their door..."

He looked away, briefly covering his mouth with a hand and stifling a sob. "I used to feel absolutely nothing at the sight of dead bodies. Now that I can share in their tragedy, however, the emotional burden feels almost unbearable..."

That was something Three could compose with as a former soldier. It was almost a relief, as this gave them a few minutes to spend expressing simple empathy before diving into their appointed tasks as dispassionately as they could. Drake exchanged a look with Aislinn and then outstretched an arm, lightly squeezing one of the former Czar's biceps. His usually reddened eyes, the result of the Crimson Spirit, were even more inflamed than usual. The man had obviously cried.

"It never gets easy, mister Romanov," gently confirmed Three. "I've seen people I cared about die, myself. It keeps me up at night, sometimes. You learn to live with it, though. There's always something worth fighting for, something that keeps you going."

The former Archon inhaled in a ragged fashion. "T-Thank you for your concern. Might I know your names?"

After the cold reception at the entrance, Anastasius' openness made Three smile. "I'm Aidan Drake," he said. "This is Aislinn McConmara, and this is Katherine Starr. I think it's safe to say you have our deepest sympathies."

The Grayskin looked too shaken to manage a handshake, but he did nod to each of them, sparing them a timid smile. "Very pleased to meet you," he said. "I would have preferred to be acquainted with Shield in more auspicious ways but such is the way of life, I suppose."

***

Evergloam wasn't that far from Holden Hall.

As always, the Viscount at his most relaxed still looked somewhat taut, as if something were always forcing him to display the full measure of his height and size. His ears flicked this way and that, as though a part of him couldn't understand the concept of keeping a casual outlook on the sidewalk. Towering over most of everyone else, he and his broadsword's scabbard elicited quite a few stares. He never failed in sparing a nod to those who actually did say hello, but didn't make contact with people who simply gawked. As chivalrous as ever, he'd insisted for Neasa to at least attempt to sling one of her arms underneath his - as if it needed to be known that she was under his protection.

Honestly, nobody assaulted gruffs in town. Those few caprine giants who lived in the mortal plane were never subjected to burglaries or assaults. They were never the object of near-misses or impacts from drunk drivers. People were exceedingly careful with what was ostensibly Summer's noblest breed of Wyldfae. Nevermind that apparently, Percival still had appearances to keep.

They rounded the Hall and followed West Willowdale's traffic flow to a few blocks down. There, a quaint little English tea house waited. Percy slipped into the pristine and carefully landscaped alley, stopping in front of an apparently featureless brick wall.

His big and scarred index finger touched a few individual bricks. "Iron and Winter's chill," he said, which was apparently some sort of pass-phrase. In any case, a simple Elizabethan wooden door shimmered into being, large and tall enough for him to slip through without ducking. He produced a set of clanking antique keys from a hook on his belt and quickly unlocked the gate.

Passing through the door and into Faerie for what was only the third or fourth time would still feel odd to Neasa. First, she'd been in a quaint little alley, with greens and yellows, reds and browns that she could conceivably fit into the colour palette of your average metropolis. Lurid daylight, stronger and bolder than what the mortal plane could produce, hit her eyes mercilessly. Once the glare would have passed, Neasa would find herself standing outside of one of the White Tower's guard posts, the Faerie city's white cobble-stoned streets gleaming with such pure whiteness it was almost painful to look at.

Faerie - and Evergloam within it - were Hope in a magnified, strengthened form. A little plaza stood a few meters away, a lovingly tended patch of grass gleaming with such a strong viridian essence as to make all of the mortal plane's shades of green insignificant. Small and petty, even. The little city trees that looked choked by asphalt in the "real world" were plainly huge and fully matured there, as if they'd respectfully pushed their roots deeper below the cobblestones and grown in perfect harmony with Evergloam's City Planning department.

Noticeably, returning home had a slight effect on Percival. His dour countenance dissipated partially, a fleeting smile of simple and comfortable satisfaction touching his lips. His already pristine white fur looked utterly perfect under Summer's eternal days of late May and early June. As ever, Evergloam was warm enough to be comfortable in in shorts and sandals all year-long, but with a continuous breeze that maintained the Sidhe city's temperatures to a temperate level. Off in the distance, storm clouds gently growled. The worst Evergloam had ever known were quick and fierce thunderstorms that might have seemed terrifying to mortals, but that had the merit of bringing more water and more life to the noble and radiant hilltop.

Winter's own storms were always there, off in the distance, the Black Ridge seemingly marking a barrier no Winter forces could cross en masse. Evergloam had its fair share of Winter refugees, but it hadn't known an occupation by Winter's forces since - not so coincidentally - 1995's terrible blizzards that had held Hope in their frozen grasp until late April.

Hope and Evergloam were linked in fairly mysterious ways. A blizzard in Hope was a war party descending from the Ridge in Evergloam. An occupation here was an unusually slow and ineffective spring season there.

Global warming and its imbalances, as interpreted on the Fae's scale, was Titania and Oberon's own increasing struggle against Mab and Morgana.

***

It took a few minutes of dithering about, as with this being May, several parents were looking to buy summertime gifts for those lucky kids who were born in those weeks where water guns and slides were in high demand. Eventually, however, a man in his thirties and a fairly average suit spotted her badge and her obvious need of assistance.

Approaching her, he asked what he always did. "Do you need help with anything, ma'am?"

[TennyoCeres84]

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Romanov. I'm sorry for your loss," Aislinn offered sympathetically, mildly stunned to be meeting an emotional Karthian. "We've been given the responsibility of determining why your friend was lost and who is ultimately responsible for her death," she stated, knowing they could only console him for so long. Still, she tenderly rubbed a shoulder in order to calm him. "We'll need to ask you some questions so we can form a full picture of what transpired."

***

"Where is Benson?" Neasa asked, rubbing her eyes from the change in light levels. Most of the time, her pupils displayed a fullness indoors. Currently, they were rather small and almost like slits, given how bright it was in Faerie.