Offerman. What kind of parent names their kid Offerman? you think, as you hold the phone in your hand. Your mind starts to wander, as a picture of those two fools forms in your mind... your ma, never warm, never loving... your pa, never there, never giving you encouragement... you wonder if that lack of recognition as a kid was the reason you became a P.I. You wanted the praise, you wanted the glory... suddenly you realise you ain't getting any more glory if you don't listen to your clients. You snap back to the present and concentrate on the words coming from the other end of the line.
"...and I know it's a long way, but no-one else would take it, and I'm terrified. They say you're the best in the business. Can you please come and at least see for yourself?"
You agree to the old woman's request. Can't hurt, you reckon. Besides, you had nothing else to do this weekend. Fiance's out of town with the girls and it's not like you had any spare cash to do anything fun - every penny's being tucked under the mattress for the baby on the way, and your ex-wife took everything else.
"I'll be there as soon as I can", you tell the lady.
You are detective Tapik and you've just taken on another case. The first thing you need to do is decide how you're going to get from your office, in the middle of the city, to the address of the old lady, a few hours north of here. What mode of transport do you choose?
You lock the door of the office and head down the steps. You cross the busy street, weaving in and out of traffic. Yellow cabs and dirty black 'sports utility vehicles' blare their horns at you as you pass. What kind of idiot drives an SUV around a crowded city like this? you wonder, as you make a hard right down a narrow alleyway, and into an unlikely stable.
You're pleased to see the smiling face of your epona-ymous friend. You saddle up and head out of the city.
You think back to your army days. I told 'em then and I'd tell 'em now. Horseback... always the best way. I bet if the other P.I.s used horses I'd never have made it in a city as tough as this. Unfortunately, despite your years of success atop Fatal, the world has evolved around you, with transport networks now in place for most modes of travel, but not horseback.
Lagamorph wrote:Whichever way the drunk hobo I ask for directions tells me to take
"Mate, what's the best way to get upstate via horseback?"
"Man get off your high horse you will be fine with your 30k a year salary regardless of what happens to the shita-nomy."
You're not sure what the hobo's point was, or why he thinks you're earning thirty Gs a year. God, if only. But he stumbles backwards, takes a pause, and then points quite clearly at the freeway. You lock eyes for a moment and he nods, encouraging, before falling to the floor. You gallop over to take a look, but he seems fairly content, passed out on the floor, his glass bottle cradled just so to as not spill anywhere, despite his little topple.
You set off towards the freeway. Designed for vehicles capable of speeds over 100 miles an hour, Fatal finds that attempting to run alongside such machines, on such hard ground, is, well, fatal. His attempts to keep pace are in vain, and soon your trusty steed is knackered beyond measure. You're hardly halfway across the city, though, and not yet close to the city limits. Delirious with exhaustion, Fatal swerves from the inside lane and into the path of an oncoming limousine. The driver's emergency stop isn't enough to keep your horse from being slain in the collision, and you're knocked several metres in front, jarred but unharmed.
"Sorry!" the driver shouts at you from his lowered window, as you gather your thoughts on the concrete. He throws several bills of cash at you and then drives around the dead horse and away again.
Moggy wrote:I take the money and I buy a new horse.
There's barely thirty bucks in the assorted scrap of notes the driver flung at you before he made his escape. A couple of others fluttered beyond the freeway and over the bridge's edge, into the water below.
Wait, can I get down from under this bridge? You spot a doorway in the centre of the road. It leads down to a long, long pedestrian route running underneath the freeway bridge. At the route's edge are huddled a few unsavoury hooded figures. You approach them with your newly-acquired cash and ask about purchasing horse.
A few minutes later, you're back up top, gazing at the distance, syringe in hand. The sun has all but set now. The traffic is totally avoiding your lane and your horse lies peacefully near the kerbside... until he twitches, just slightly. You realise he's not quite gone, just yet. You plunge the syringe into Fatal's hide and push the plunger.
"So long, old friend."
You need to get upstate from the freeway. Do you want to try and hitch a ride from here; head back into the city and get a train; or go further into the suburbs and try to catch a flight?
Lagamorph wrote:Use my raw sexiness to flag down a ride
You think back to the war years. It's like Sergeant Sechsi always said... radio comes on, clothes come off. You pull your mobile phone out of your pocket and tune to 200.8... Rod Stewart starts to play from the tiny speaker. Perfect. You begin to strip, your body moving with the music, your thumb attempting to hail a willing driver to pull over.
A few moments later, you're riding in the back of a police car, having been arrested for indecent exposure in a public space. Happily, the officers are stationed at a little town north of here. They take you to their station, log your details, and let you off with a warning. It's taken hours, but you're about a quarter of the way along your route. The old woman is still waiting!
You're stood on the steps of Blandton Police Station. You need to get north to the old woman's address. What do you do?
Kezzer wrote:id say steal a police car but this isn't GTA... take my $30 and get a train
You head to the railway station. Happily, the night's last train north pulls in just as you get to the platform. No time to play with the ticket machine. I'll get one on board.
You find an empty two-seater and rest for a while. Your head is all over the place. Jesus, what a mess. I'm not even halfway upstate and I've bought drugs, been in an accident, and watched my horse die. I'm yet to call Anouska and tell her what I'm doing this weekend... at least she'll be having a good time with her friends.
The conductor makes his way to you. "Evening, sir. May I see your ticket, please?"
"I, erm, I..."
You spent your limo dollars on Ketamine.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" asks the conductor.
Errkal wrote:Yes, you were old buddies at school. You haven't talked for years as you had a falling out after he dated your mum causing the breakup of your family.
"Hello? Mate? Do I know you?"
I'm going to have to look up eventually. You eventually meet the man's gaze. You're about to confess your penniless state, when it clicks - you DO know him.
It's your childhood classmate, Joseph 'Joe' Motherlover. You were friends as little kids.
As I live and breathe...
When you were teenagers, he'd done what his father used to do with his friends, and his father before him... he'd had a tryst with your ma. Motherlover by name... You had a fight about it, which turned nasty and left him with a gash across his face. He quickly acquired the name 'Scar Joe'.
Scar Joe clicks, too. He realises how he knows you... and he swiftly scurries away along the carriage. "Tickets, please!" Well, I guess I got out of that one.
The train rolls on for several hours. Eventually you reach the final stop... Barrenside. There's barely anyone left on the train at this point. You step off the carriage onto the platform and feel the cold night air on your face.
You think back to your conversation with the old woman. You recall her address and contemplate your next move.