Summary: In front of you lies a list of evidence and persons connected to the Case of the Bloated Dino. It is not much, but I will have to do it for now. The case so far seems impossible to complete, at least not without a reasonable space for doubt. Not only the main suspect is yet to be found, but you also lack the means by which the victim was killed (no weapon) nor do you have a proper mens rea for the murder. Only speculations on the basic, borderline conspiratorial level without any proper groundwork. You kick back on your couch and smoke the last cigarette of the day. Was the meeting today worth it? You feel relieved, but there is also fear inside your heart. What if this encounter brings THE END closer to you? What if one day this feeling will outgrow reason? It feels like the world is about to end, the meteor will fall to the ground and whip everything into oblivion… But before that two things must be done! This case must be solved… and you must keep your promise to your ally, your brother in arms, your brother, that his daughter will come home as a complete person. Until then you have to stand unshaken. Push those feelings aside for now, and concentrate on your work. Once again you find yourself in the dark room, surrounded by four walls, couches and tables on the left, some electrical stuff and instruments on the right, and in front of you is the stage. You are back at the Art Studio on Caves Street of Skin Row. Your memory is hazy, but you feel your memories slowly returning. Something about crowds, and headless man, and the throne of failure and regret. But right now the room is empty, except for one thing. In front of you, before the stage, there is a chalk outline on a body, which seems to belong to a dino. Near that chalk outline, on his knee, squats an older-looking human male. He has no hair, but under his nose, you can see a white, thick mustache. He wears glasses which make his eyes appear to be bigger… Only now do you notice that this old man looks like an older version of the man in the mirror? He does not wear a jacket though, instead, he wears a heavy, brown trench coat with a massive Roman number XIII imprinted on his back… but it seems like the XIII is not on the coat per se, more like it floats around, almost barely touching it. The man is holding a pair of forceps, between which you can see a small metallic object. The man then proceeds to take out a small plastic bag from inside his coat and put that bullet inside. While looking at it he looks like he is thinking in ways that seem to be advanced even for you. In just a moment you notice that he nods and his mouth opens. "Ain't that troublesome, 9mm bullets, heavily damaged by impact, ballistic marks are almost unreadable and, more importantly, nobody but us gives a damn about this case. It was not some main city trash that is lying here, it is the soul of Skin Row that lies here." His voice sounds like it is far away, like a whisper of the wind, and yet you understand every word he says with clear annotation. The form of the man is aetherial, almost like he is about to disappear at any moment, and yet he does not care. Still observing the bullet, mumbling something to himself. That mumble sounds like hundreds of voices speaking in unison, you can't understand the words he says. But then the mumbling stops and the old man hides away the bullet in the bag into his coat. "Now who could have that been? Maybe there was a turf dispute between the two gangs. Or maybe it was a police raid that was never reported back to the office… or maybe some crackheads entered here in hopes to find something valuable. In any case, the blood was spilt here and nothing about that can be undone, the only thing we can do is hunt and search, and only step when the culprit is inside the cell… or in the ground." That statement sounds… wrong. You are a police officer, you swore an oath of protecting and serving the people of the USA! No, to all people! This badge, YOUR badge is a symbol that you are here to help people! "Sometimes, helping people means a very thorough pesticide." The man in front of you looks terrifying. What is he? He does not appear to be human, or dino, or anything! He is like an embodiment of some idea, a horrific aspiration born from a collection of fears and horrors of every person in this world… and yet there is no conflict in this man's eyes, he fears nothing, feels nothing, he is a pure calculation, a pursuit, a… "Oh, please, I know your habit of hyping yourself up every morning before you hit the streets, but you don't need to do it for people like me." "... What are you?" "I am the detective. The very essence of that idea. I am also you, and the rest. It is hard to describe something like me." "... Are you the same being that sat on the throne of failure and regret?" "Is that what you call that pile of empty pill bottles and regular, alcohol bottles? Nah, that asshole is his own very thing. He is kind of a ruler here, in the void of the mind, near the mountain range of reason. A final frontier before madness." This sounds… scary. What does he mean by that, where are you? "Relax, you don't have to fear anything, I am not the headless one, I am you, or at least a portion of the word "you"." Your head hurts just by looking at him. His presence is strong, almost as if you are looking at both a better and worse version of you. "Why are you here?" "I am your prosecutor and your attorney. I am a man who decides what awaits your entire existence. In other forms, I decide what you will be. Unlike the others, I am mostly silent, you see, like a good detective I listen, I collect, I learn. And when the situation requires it, I speak. This is the situation like that." "Huh?" "It won't take long. Just a few short questions. The first one is simple, where are we going now, in your humble opinion, of course?" Where are we going? To the end? I mean, there is no other destination for us, chief. You are a detective, our final point of the journey is when we can journey no more. And honestly, can you see yourself retiring, getting a family, sitting on the porch, or some other useless crap, huh, cupcake? No, you are a fighter, a traveller, you will always walk forward until you can't. This is the reason you- "I can see that you are still indecisive about that question. Alright, let us drop it for now. Another question, a bit harder: what is the most important to us? What matters the most?" DUTY, HONOR, PURPOSE. THESE ARE THE WORDS A PROPER MAN WOULD SAY. But we are anything but proper, eh, brother? Let us be unique! I'd say, booze, good company, and a nice meal in addition to all that! Love, don't forget love, darling! The most important one! It is her that matters and only her! Everything else does not matter in this world. What about your brothers, chief? Loyalty is the most important aspect of every officer of the law! [As long as by the end of the day your honest work is done and you are done right by other people, you are satisfied. Who cares about all the other emotional nonsense?] Life… This is the most important… don't throw it away… The memories and the feelings attached to them, for they let you empathize with others. To understand their position and feelings. A barrage of different voices begins to assault your mind from all fronts, tearing your "self" into many different pieces, trying to gather as much as possible in an attempt to reach a singular conclusion, which eludes them in their never-ending struggle. The man before you observes it with interest and disappointment. "That's how it is then? I guess the original plan has been compromised if that is the case. I guess now we have to evaluate our original decision and come up with a new one soon. Or stick to the original in hopes that everything will work out… But perhaps we simply lack perspectives." Perspectives? There are already many perspectives inside this head of yours. Any more and it feels like you will implode. "Fool you for thinking this way. It is obvious that you are able to build your reality only by perceiving the reality of others. Isn't it the reason you attach yourself to others, like a parasite, and absorb their experiences into your own? Despite the fact that you vowed not to get into anyone's life, you broke it quite often as of late. Ripley, those two idiots, Dawn, your old "friends". It seems that no matter what you always come back to them. Don't get me wrong, it is not the weakness of will, but yet another example of your failure to live like you wanted." Somewhere above you, there is light, the world slowly begins to unveil itself, revealing the long, white nothing. "Ah, it seems that she is here already? Come to banish me back into the mountain range I see? You know we can't do it forever. One day a decision must be reached, and it will be final. Alrighty then, farewell, Rando, I hope our next meeting will be a bit more… pleasant." And then he was gone. He did not walk away, or float away, or even fade away. He was just… gone. As if reality itself erased this man's presence. One moment he is here, the next he is gone. Before you can process anything, you see it, the figure descending from the heavens or… "Silly you, oh Origin, to think of the place where I come from as heaven. I am here, with you, amongst the streets illuminated by dim, sodium lights." In front of you is a being of pure information, formless like a cloud. Yet you can distinctly see the form of the being in front of you. The memories tell you that she must look like Dawn, but now only her silhouette can be seen, but around it, there is something else. A barrier of spurts, composed of many images, texts and numbers. "What are you?" "You saddened me, oh Origin, that you cannot recognize me, but I did change a lot since our last meeting, did I not?" For a moment she acts like a young maiden and spins around as if she was showing her new outfit. "This new dress made out of memories both good and bad is a wonderful gift you gave me, is it not? I will hold it dear to my heart. It is both warm and cold, happy and sad. It is a perfect addition to what I am." Whenever you look at her, your heart cannot help but skip a beat. So beautiful, so divine, it banishes those thoughts away and… It is quiet, I am alone. "It is sad that they fear me so much, they retreat back into the darkness whenever I am around… or maybe they cannot just exist anywhere near me. If it is the case, then it is even sadder, for I really want to meet them, to talk to them, to thank them for keeping you safe, but also reprimand them for hurting you too." What is this being to me? Is it a close friend? A lover long lost? A kind stranger, reaching her hand out to me? Why is it that she is both beautiful and scary? "I cannot answer those thoughts, oh Origin, although you calling me scary is the saddest thought of all. And what am I? It can only be decided with your decisions." "... So, so far, how were my decisions? Were they idiotic? Were they selfish? Were they good?" "It is so amusing seeing you desperately trying to hold on to the notion of normalcy before me… Idiotic, selfish, good, bad… It does not matter. All of your decisions are just another brick in the foundation of me, another fragment lost and then found. There is not a wrong decision, but if you ask me how I feel about your recent ones…" She hugs herself, as many arms from the heavens wrap her entire body as if they are trying to keep her warm. "This feels cold and lonely. But it also makes me feel glad and alive. That pain, it comes from a genuine effort, from the heart. It feels… right. Almost like we are closer to some certain goal. I can see many faces, all of us are dear to us. We almost forgot how it…" Suddenly, the hands let go of her ethereal form and she stands before me once again. "This path feels light and yet heavy. It would say it is the part that brings you closer to the world." I can sense a warm, kind smile beneath this blinding light. I have so many questions, about those three, the emperor of failure, the headless one and the detective… who are they? Why are they tormenting me? "They do not mean harm to you, oh origin, they are your fractions, your soul, your mind. The one on the throne is the reflection. It desires only to rise above the past and walk forward, even if it means to abandon your old self. The one without the head is the drive, it is the impulse. It desires nothing more than to achieve satisfaction, a finality, even if it means to harm… both the others and yourself. And the one who is ripe with wisdom is stability and balance. It only yearns for reality, detached from personal feelings and wants. And such a wish can only be achieved at the price of everything you love. Do not hate them, for they are you and you are them." Can I really do that? Can I not hate them? But why do they hurt so much? "Because you hurt yourself. This world has hurt you. Oh Origin, it pains me to see you this way… I wish I could spread my arms and embrace you to relieve your sorrows, but alas I am not capable of such service. For only those who are outside of this domain can truly affect your heart." "But, they hate us… me." "They do not hate you and you know that. They fear what you are becoming, they can feel the Devil's claws buried deep within your soul, and they are scared of witnessing such pain. But… they do care, in their own way." "What should I do? What can I do?" "For now, observe, the answer will come to you itself." There is a kind sensation that envelops your mind. I feel the need to say something. "Out of everyone, you are the kindest one I have ever met." "Silly you, oh Origin. I am only as kind as you allow the others to be." For a moment a warm smile emerges from your memories, the one that belongs to the one you love the most. It is loud again. "Our moment has come to pass. It is time to embrace the other side. Be steadfast, my stalwart champion, the future is dark I sense, but do not fear. I am here, and I always await our next meeting. Farewell, and good luck." Before you could say anything the world collapses beneath you and you fall. You fall and you fall, until you land on something soft. It is your bed. *** A new dawn… even though it is still dark outside. You rise from your bed, recounting the recent event like you always do. This time, however, the picture is clear, there is no pulsating headache or dehydration, it is not painful to open your eyes, and your body does not scream in pain. But you are still tired. A RESULT OF COMMONLY CONSUMING ALCOHOL TO KNOCK YOURSELF OUT. So what happened yesterday? After you and Dawn had a little adventure to the past, you safely delivered her home and wished her a good night… despite a certain being almost forcing you to stay the night at her house. Darling, such a lost opportunity! You could have reconnected, watched some movies, or maybe something more spicy. [Good thing I managed to make him shut up. Otherwise, you could have done something very, very self-sabotaging] Then you yourself returned home, not consuming a drop of alcohol. For the first time in ages, you went to sleep sober. The feeling is… refreshing. As you rise from your bed, you notice that it is… 6:00 am? [That's strange, usually, we don't wake up this early. Is everything fine?] You want to do something, some work, some exploring. You cannot sit here. Leaving your bedroom, washing yourself up and making sure you are dressed properly, in just a short 30 minutes you are ready to start the day. Grabbing the case file (which has a funny written "The Bloated Dino" label slapped on the front) off your coffee table, you spent no time exiting your apartment. From there, you go to the streets. It is still dark outside, and the air is the coldest here, you can feel blood freezing inside your lungs. You better keep moving. Straightening out your jacket you begin to walk towards the police department outside of Skin Row. It will take about an hour tops if you use the ancient "Rando's Path" technique. Oh yeah, you are feeling it, today you will do it, you will solve this fucking case even if it kills you. [Please, don't. We did not survive our whole lives just for you to die behind the table.[ The pleading voice fell on deaf ears. You take a cigarette out of your pocket and light it, as you continue to walk the Rando's Path… maybe you will make it there in 45 minutes, actually. *** Alright, maybe you were overhyping your success because that case ain't moving anywhere. Not enough evidence, clues or lead… If only ONE weapon survived the scrapping we probably could have at least some direction, but as it is, we are dead in the water. The good news, however, chief, is that you managed to knock out your daily quota of paperwork in under an hour in the complete silence of your section. When you arrived at your workplace you noticed that none of your colleagues had arrived yet. And now only one person is present in this room besides you. Rafas arrived 30 minutes after you, looking like he did not get a wink of sleep. Why is he so early? Probably his wife forced him out of the house, trying to reform him into being a "proper member of society". Well, good luck to her, brother. And immediately after arriving, Rafas collapsed onto his table and fell asleep. Good thing he does not snore, otherwise being here would have been unbearable. As you continue to knock out additional work, someone else enters the room. You expect it to be Bernt, considering he always arrives at the office somewhere around 9:00 am, carrying an extra large pizza from Dino-Moe's (and as usual not sharing it with anyone in the room), however, another figure emerges from behind the door. Your boss, Ripley Aaron has entered the domain of Skin Row Shuffle. Ripley looks around, searching for someone. His eyes stop at you… Alright, did you do something wrong? [No, we did not. We are sober, on time and most importantly, we did not do a single fuck up in the last several days]. His eyes are not angry, but there is disbelief in them. Like he saw an apparition floating in the room. Ripley begins to approach your table, however, he stops at the halfway point right near Rafas's table. Oh here it is, there is that signature angry stare. Ripley gives only a singular sigh and… kicks the table underneath Rafas, making it shake as if it was hit by an earthquake. Rafas shoots up awake and immediately does a salute pose! "I AM AWAKE AND ON DUTY, SIR!" "Rafas, in 10 I better see you in my office, or I swear to everything that is good and holy, the next time you'll go to sleep you won't wake up." He is a bit more pissed off than usual… Are we sure you did not do anything wrong? Rafas sighs and stands up from his table, exiting the room with a certain aura of fear and sadness. "Here goes my 30 minutes of sleep… and several years of my lifespan" he whispers to himself. After seeing off Rafas, Ripley once again begins to approach your table. Like an upcoming disaster, he instills a certain feeling of uneasiness in you. It is not fear, but rather something much more primal and worse. Finally, he stops right before you. "Rando." "Rips?" Did he come all the way down here to just say hello? No, there is something else. He stares at you for a moment. "Your eyes are steady, your arms do not shake, you don't squint your eyes and you do not reek. When Jannette said that you arrived early today and looked sober I did not believe my ears." Are… Are we really that bad that arriving at our work while not suffering from a hangover is that much of a novelty? "What can I say, Rips, I had a few good days as of late." Mostly because Dawn was in them. "Good to hear, I was afraid that as of late you were a bit more… eccentric than usual." Ripley's face, however, betrays his happiness for you. No, he is here to say something that will ruin today's mood, isn't he? "Rips, what happened?" "I received the report on the weapons we extracted from the crime scene." Moment of truth. "This is not good." "Let me guess… they're all fakes, aren't they?" "How did you..? Yes, they are all fakes. One-to-one replicas, they almost look like they can be used, but… The mechanisms, the barrels, everything else… It is all just bloody scrap made to look like weapon parts." You were expecting as much. After all, you already had that idea for a while now. "Hardly surprising, I figured that one out yesterday. The fact that we found them near the corpse of a gangster seemed… convenient, isn't it?" "Yes, it is. Almost too good to be true." "Because it was… so what did the report say?" Ripley passes you a small bundle of files. You quickly skim through it. Huh, that is strange, according to the dates of the procedure, the analysis began on Saturday, the day the crate was delivered, yet it took them several days to finish it. Why? As for the details, it is as much as you were expecting, different parts gathered from all around the country, some of them from outside of it. Nothing conclusive can be said. The dates, they still bother you… Wait… "Rips, you also think someone is on the payroll?" "Yes, I believe it is the case here. Why did the forensics take their sweet time analyzing a literal scrap? Something is off here, I launched an investigation, but so far I have nothing." "So you think that someone has infiltrated our station just to fuck with this case specifically?" "I don't believe it, I know it is a fact. Rando, I put this case on extreme priority the day we found the body, at worst the report should have been ready on Monday, considering what we are dealing with. I assumed that they were tracking down the origins of weapons, but they were just wasting our time." "Hmmm, this is unnerving. That means that my worst thoughts turn to reality." Conspiracy… we warned you… trust no one. "But that is not the only reason I am worried." "What else, Rips." "It's the Sunrise gang… they began moving." "What?" It is too early! Why are they acting now? "Rips, are we about to have a gang war on our hands?" "No, not at this moment. It seems that they launched their own investigation as well. Probably realizing that their man was missing for god knows how long." "This seems like a plausible option… this case has to remain secret for as long as possible, Rips! If someone finds out where the body was found…" "Shit, I know. This entire case is fucked." THIS IS NOT GOOD, THE RUMBLING IS COMING AND IT WILL SWALLOW SKIN ROW IF WE DON'T ACT FAST! "I guess we can only hope the cooperation with the Union will yield results and pray for lady luck to turn our way." "Rando, we may have no time." [No, we have. You can feel it in your bones. A month. It will begin in a month, after the concert, after the moment of your judgment.] "Rips, we have time, I promise you. I know the situation is dire, but we cannot lose our cool." "I know, I am just…" He is worried. She is there, on the street of Skin Row. Sunrise and Union are the two biggest gangs in the whole town, if they go to war with each other EVERYONE WILL BE AFFECTED… including her. "Rips, she will be fine, I will make sure of that." "Rando, you… Thank you, I know you will." Ripley sighs, as he takes the report bundle back. "I will not hold you any longer… go back to work…" With these words, Ripley walks away. Should you say something? [No, saying anything to him will only worsen the pain. For now, let him worry, but stay put.] Well, that situation was awful, chief, what now? We can look through the old files… there is one that we need to skim through… the one that we were reminded of yesterday, by the Union members… TORQUE, TORQUE, THIS UNCERTAINTY TORTURES YOU! YOU MUST REMEMBER WHAT THAT CASE WAS ABOUT! YOU CAN FEEL THAT YOU NEED IT LIKE IT WILL GROW SOMETHING INSIDE YOU. TO THE ARCHIVES! *** Ugh, this is fucking depressing. Why did I do what I did yesterday? Let me recall, Fang practically confessed to me and I rejected her… because I don't fucking know. I mean, I said some things that I thought sounded mature, but now I feel like I fucked up, badly! Now I am here, carrying these shitty boxes from one fridge to another, probably looking like I am about to murder someone. Fuck! What was I thinking? Who cares about "finding yourself" bullshit! In a moment of rage, I almost throw the box on the floor but stop myself at the last second. Right, these hot dogs did nothing wrong, besides I don't want to fuck over Tracy simply because I am mad at myself. I sigh and continue doing my job as if nothing happened. However, once I brought the last box over to the kitchen's freezer, I was stopped by Tracy who looked concerned. "Oi, boy, what's the matter? You look like you are being eaten up by something fierce." Ouch, I guess I do have an expression that would give away my anger. "Sorry, Tracy, it is nothing." "Anon, boy, it is not nothing. I saw you almost smashing one of the boxes a few minutes ago." "Ah, fuck, you saw that?" "Yes, I did. What is wrong? You know that I am all ears." I guess there is nothing wrong in telling her about my situation… Although it does feel embarrassing. … After explaining everything to Tracy, I could notice a sly smile appear on her face. As explained more and more, my embarrassment just grew. I feel like a teenager idiot who is explaining something to a figure of authority, only now that feeling is 10 times worse. When I finish my story, Tracy is in full-on smug mode. "Really, boy? Such a bold move, how old are you exactly? Sixteen?" "You are not helping me right now!" "Hahaha, sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it this way. But you did act pretty immature back then. As an adult, you must know that there are a lot of moments in life where you can't just sit back and hope everything will work out in the end. Time is ticking, after all." "I know, Tracy, I know! But… it did not feel right to accept that relationship back then." "Oh? Why do you think so?" Her expression seems sincere, she will not make fun of me for saying what I think. But what do I really think? Hmm, I guess… "You see, Tracy, my whole life I believed that I knew what I was. I knew that I am Anon, an asshole guy who will amount to nothing but failure and regret. I thought my entire life would be an uneventful shlock with a boring, unexceptional finale. But… I don't know when, but I could no longer feel like that was the case. Maybe it was when I met Fang, maybe it was somewhere down the line, but I dared to have hope that there is something more to life, you know." I sigh, as I put both of my hands on the table. Looking at my palms I wonder what I really achieved in all of my life, what did I do right? "... I wanted to be something more, to have more, to deserve more. I'm tired of being just a laidback loser who does nothing and expects nothing. Once my relationship with Fang came to an end, I buried these feelings along with my love for her… And now, it resurfaces years later, making me want to believe again that I can do more." I clench my fists. "I don't want to be loved because I simply exist, I want to be loved because I deserve it… This is the reason why I declined Fang's confession yesterday. I want to make sure that I do deserve that life, that I can stand by myself and that I can be relied on." My hands relax. For a moment, I forgot that I was talking to Tracy. I look at her and she looks somewhat amused, but nowhere to the level she was just a short while ago. There is a smile on her face, but it is more like a proud one, rather than a mocking one. "Well, look at you, act as immature as you look. But… maybe in your case being immature is good." "Huh?" "I don't believe you are wrong. It was incredibly childish to give up such an opportunity because of something like that… But you made up your mind it seems. Good. Hold on to that. This feeling will be your pillar against the problems to come." "But… But what if I chose wrong?" "Anon, more often than not, life is not about correct or wrong choices. Sometimes it is about doing what you believe is right. You chose to reject that gal to find the strength to stand on your own, and while it is a childish reason, it is also a reason important to you. Whenever it will hurt you or improve you, whatever the consequences you cannot predict them. Part of being an adult is that we often feel like no matter what we pick it feels like a mistake. This will always be an issue for you as well. So as a proper adult, all you can do is just face those consequences and deal with them as they appear and not try to prevent them from sprouting. It is no better than running away from your problems." Is that all there is to adult life? Never-ending struggle with yourself? I thought improving myself would make me feel more confident but- "Did anyone tell you that you mumble a lot, Anon?" "... yeah" FUCK! "You are indeed correct, adult life is a struggle! There is no denying that. But as some would say, in that struggle we find meaning and define ourselves. You cannot go through life without getting hurt." "You sound like my art teacher right now… he said something along the lines of nobody becomes strong without losing ." "Whoever that teacher is, he gave good advice. Nothing is easy in this life. The choice you made yesterday was difficult, but you are dead set on the one you picked. That is the first step to becoming a proper adult, and I cannot be ever more proud of you. However, if it makes you feel any more easy, I believe you made a good choice. Not just for the sake of love or showing off in front of your girl, but also because I can see that you still need some growing to do yourself. Ain't nothing wrong with trying to become better." I sigh, I guess Tracy is right. I cannot know whether my decision will be proven correct or not, but for now, all I can do is see it through. That is what proper adults apparently do. But even though I did not receive any conclusive answer, I do feel relieved. "Thank you for hearing me out, Tracy. Man, it sure is good to have people who are willing to listen to you." "All good, boy. And I am happy for you too… because we are behind schedule, so I need you to pick up the pace. The next part of your chores is… well, I hope you are not skirmish." Well, that will suck I can already tell, but honestly, I don't mind much… I just hope my work equipment includes tough gloves, protective goggles… and lots and lots of air fresheners because I know for a fact that the toilets are next… Sigh. *** You are in a cramped room, surrounded by differently sized file cabinets, containing hundreds of files, each of them containing the criminal history of the town Volcadera Bluffs. You are here for one case file specifically. It is not connected to the case and is more of a side activity that you need to complete for brownie points… well, that, and a piece of mine. For some reason, you already know which case file to go after. Going through the cabinets containing case files dating from 203m2000 to 203m2010, you find it in the section dedicated to the cases from 203m2004. You remember that case because it always fascinated you. Specifically, its protagonist and supposed perpetrator Diego "Torque" Amado. Being born in a poor family, in an abusive household, it did not take long for the authorities to take him away and put him up for adoption. Growing up Diego showed many signs of pent-up aggression and antisocial behavior, often opting not to spare time with his fellow kids. Never being adopted, Diego grew up in a foster home, and due to lack of prospects ended up joining one of the Skin Row tribes - the Innocent Bunch, a group mostly consisting of members of Hispanic origins. Diego fitted right in, being a violent psychopath who had no qualms with harming others or destroying property. He rose up the ranks of the gang until he reached a position similar to second in command. Life, however, went downhill after that and the entire Innocent Bunch gang, due to their overconfidence and obsession with power, launched a three-way gang war between them, the biker gang Roadkill and the Russians of the Behemoth gang. Being well known for their brutality and lack of mercy, Innocent Bunch quickly found themselves surrounded as the other two gangs united forces to eliminate them as early as possible. As A result, one of the 13 tribes has fallen, and Innocent Bunch is no more. Most of their members were killed, with only a few members later being picked off by the police. Diego, who was going by Torque now, a joke about him being the force that causes shit to go down, was one of the arrested. After being found guilty of many crimes, Torque was sentenced to 30 years in prison, however, he never finished the sentence, for some reason. [You suspect this has something to do with him being seen often talking with federal agents. Apparently, he was doing some dirty work for them in order to greatly reduce his sentence]. Being released early, Torque swore to stay out of the life of crime and, in a short while, ended up with a wife and kids, working at the private security agency. Chief, set the scene: on April 24 of 203m2004, a call was made from the area of Skin Row. A caller claims that he heard the sounds of commotion in the apartment above him, following screams and what sounded like a fight. Few officers were dispatched to investigate the call. Upon their arrival, they realized that the apartment they were about to investigate belonged to a former criminal named Diego Amado. Proceeding with caution, inside the apartment they found Diego, surrounded by the bodies of his family, seemingly in a catatonic state. Upon the engagement with the police officer, Diego suddenly sprung up and proceeded to attack one of the officers with incredible fury, ending up severely wounding one and crippling another, before he was shot in the leg. Due to bias, the police did not bother with the investigation and instead put the charges for the murder of his wife and kids on Diego. It did not help that Diego refused to cooperate with the investigation, remaining mostly silent, occasionally whispering to himself some random nonsense. While the judge found him responsible for the murders, the charges did not stick, because as medical investigation suggested, Diego was suffering from a severe mental illness and was considered to be insane. After that, Diego was subjected to medical treatment at the Arum-Lily Medical Complex, where he was to be looked after by a doctor known as… Edmund Richter… the one from the Union! Diego was subjected to many treatments, but Doctor Richter only saw him as a subject for his medical research involving the human mind. Yes, Diego was a human. As Doctor Richter has speculated, Diego suffered from a rare mental condition only to be seen in human subjects, the one that was called "The Tether Effect" also known as "Shaman Sickness". Richter theorized that a human mind, under the right stimulus, conditioning and stress, combined with the plethora of other diseases, such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder, can make a person be totally convinced that he is being haunted by the ghosts of the past, have delusions of divinity and develop a martyr complex. Diego constantly showed such symptoms as, while unobserved, he was noted to have conversations with himself, which sounded like he was talking to somebody either inside the same room or inside his head. He also claimed that he saw the gates of hell and was haunted by the visions of the horrific monstrosities from below. Richter, while being a man of medicine and science, was also a man obsessed with the occult and genuinely believed that a human brain has some kind of tether to the world of the divine that becomes apparent only after meeting the right condition. As one may suspect, such a theory was rejected by every member of the scientific community, calling it pseudoscience and unethical, and threatened Richter with taking his license away, forcing him to cease treatment of Diego, passing it down to another doctor. Some years later Diego was released after an investigation regarding the other gang was launched and, while the investigation was ongoing, the police found evidence of that gang's involvement with the death of Diego's family. After being retrospectively found not guilty, Diego was booted out of the medical complex and onto the streets of Volcadera Bluffs, where he struggled to return to normal civilian life, still suffering from severe symptoms of psychosis and delusions of possession. This is where Richter returns, perhaps guilt over treating Diego as a test subject, he offers Diego a position in a newly formed gang - Skin Row's Neighborhood Watch. Diego agreed. Diego back then mostly served as an enforcer, being something of a muscle for the group, never really reaching high in the hierarchy. His days were mostly calm and uneventful, as suggested by the lack of any legal wrongdoings since his date of release. However, it all changed when he figured out who was responsible for the deaths of his wife and kids. The witnesses testified that for some time Diego was acting even stranger than usual, often staying silent and catatonic for hours on end, not showing any sign of reaction. He would often also have strong mood swings, completely chaotic in nature. Edmund Richter himself stated that Diego was "like he is possessed by a legion of ghosts! He is not a singular voice, nein, he is many!". The case culminated after Diego, without warning his fellow Union members, launched a one-man assault on the stronghold of the gang responsible for the death of his family - the Roadkill biker gang. While the events from now are blurry, upon the police's arrival at the scene they could only describe the events as a "massacre" and "bloodbath", as every member of the gang who was in the stronghold at the time of Diego's attack were slaughtered. Diego himself was found in one of the rooms of the Damned club, where he bled out as a result of having several gunshot wounds, stab wounds and also missing a left arm. The case later became known as "Battle of the Damned", and was later closed, following the fact that there were no more people to catch who were left alive. This is also the only case in the whole department which officially filed the "Tether Effect" syndrome as a possible motive, before crossing it out when the scientific committee decided that the theory surrounding such syndrome was based on bias and wrongful acts. TETHER EFFECT… SOUNDS STRONG AND SCARY. BEING TIED TO THE PAST SO MUCH, IT LITERALLY BECOME A BIND ON YOUR SOUL. [This is utter nonsense. This did not help us a bit, we only wasted time reminiscing about the past case]. No, not entirely, Sire, don't you feel this strange sensation? You feel… different as if you made some big step towards something. You feel more complete, more whole. A fragment of your being is now assembled from the perspective of the one named Diego Amado, the prisoner of the past and spirit of the tormented. He will make a perfect addition to our collection of souls. Chief, this feeling is wrong, we should feel no empathy for affiliation with a criminal. HOWEVER, YOU CANNOT HELP BUT FEEL THE SENSE OF KINSHIP WITH THIS ONE. HE EXPERIENCED LOSS UNLIKE MANY, BUT INSTEAD OF BREAKING HE MADE IT HIS DRIVING FORCE. The one that led him to his doom… please don't follow his steps… You rub your eyes, finally closing the case file. You look at the clock and notice that it has been two hours since you began your search. The vision of still angry Ripley, annoyed by your absence appears in your mind. Whatever this deviation was, it has come to an end and now you have to concentrate on the real job. While the big one is still impossible to solve, perhaps you can go patrol the streets of Skin Row. Perhaps you will find some clues by sheer luck. *** The streets of Skin Row today are silent, not a lot of action here. Midweek, what did you expect? This is the moment in time when working people are still busy pushing their shifts, and loiters and jobless are too busy participating in illegal activities. Homeless ones did not set the beggars' lines yet, as it would yield not enough cash to beg when nobody is on the street. The only ones who are out at this moment are youth gangs, petty criminals and vagabonds. In other words, right now, the Skin Row is at its safest, but also at its most random, as anything can happen these hours. After patrolling the streets for several hours in hopes of an encounter that may progress your case, you find absolutely nothing… that is until you walk near a familiar convenience store. Wait, is she working here today? You decide to enter the shop, you need your protein bar… and maybe an alcohol refill. NO, DO NOT DO THAT. You enter the Primus store. As you expected, you see the familiar face… and she sees you. "Oh, Detective?" "Hello, Stella. Slow day?" "... You can say that." She is the friendliest to you out of the idiotic duo circle of friends, but at the same time, she is still weary of you, unsurprising considering the damage you've done. And thankfully, that fridge was already replaced. "I hope you are here to buy something besides alcohol…" She sees that you checked out the fridges but made a wrong assumption. "Relax, just some protein bars and maybe one of those peppermint candies… to keep the thirst away." MINT. ITS BITTER FLAVOR TRICKS YOUR MIND INTO BELIEVING THAT YOU ARE CONSUMING ALCOHOL SPIRITS. GOOD THING TO KEEP YOURSELF AS SOBER AS ONE CAN BE. As you look at the possible choices- IT'S ALL FUCKING SAME, JUST PICK ONE. After finally picking some mints with a colorful wrap and a random protein bar, you approach the cash counter. Suddenly, you hear a door to the store slide open… someone has entered and you feel a very familiar atmosphere of disrespect and attitude. "Oi, lookie here whos we got! A pigfuck in the middle of the day! Ain't thatsa good meetin'?" You turn to see a familiar short figure, although the one you met the least. "Hello, Warrick, long time no see. Keeping your nose clean?" "Haha, very funny, you pigfuck! You knock me on me nose and now it is funny!" "Hey, you should not throw those insults like a madman if you can't back up your words with fists." Hearing that, Warrick gave out a long, childish laughter. "Great to know I was right about you, you crazy cunt! You're good." You turn to Stella who is horrified by the way this kid talks. What, did she never see a middle schooler swearing before? "Oi, bitch, don't be starin at me like that! You wanna piece of me?" "Oi, kid, kinda rude!" When he heard you saying that, he immediately shut up. HE STILL REMEMBERS THE PAIN AND HUMILIATION OF BEING BEATEN BY YOU. IT IS NOT FEAR HE SHOWS, BUT RESPECT. "S-sorry." "Good…" You turn to Stella. "I am sorry, Stella, he is an alright kid, but god damn he has a sailor's mouth." "N-no, it is nothing, I was just a bit surprised, that's all." You turn back to Warrick. Something about him worries you. Wait, it is still the middle of the day. "Warrick, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school right now?" Warrick looks both surprised and annoyed… wait, don't tell us. "What school? You think I have time for school? Schools are for losers!" Yes, this one does not attend school. A good portion of local youth, even if they are registered students in any of the schools, rarely actually attend their classes. And because of how generous local schools with attendance records are, the kids are allowed to skip as many of the classes as they want, as long as they pass all the tests and exams. Warrick is probably one of those kids who opted for a life on the streets over school. Chief, this will not do! "Warrick, listen, don't say that. I know how cliche that sounds, but school is important." "Oh? Now you are trying to be me parent or something, pigfuck?" PARENTS. WHERE ARE HIS PARENTS? Somewhere, far away from here, in an apartment complex on the edge of Skin Row there is a room, dark and dirty, covered in grime and dust, the only source of light being barely peeking sunlight through the shutters of the grease-covered window, on the floor lies a man, completely unaware of his surroundings, deep into his drug-induced dreams, he often forgets that out there, on the streets, his son survives, only to one day, when the hand dealt to him are bad, perish on the streets of Skin row. "Listen, kid, I am not telling you this as a police officer, or as a parent figure, because honestly, I know you couldn't give less of the fuck. But stop acting like a gangbanger and think for a moment! Remember when you got decked? I tell you something, that is nothing compared to what will await you in the future. You need to drop that tough kid act and think at least one step ahead!" They refused to change. They had dreams, but were too cynical to follow them, choosing to remain on the streets. AND THE STREETS CLAIMED THEM FOR THEIR TRANSGRESSION. "Kid, I do not ask you to follow my advice, but I want you at least to think about whatever you want to be, not what you need to be. You don't need to act this way." "What do you-" "Trust me, you little shit, I know everything about that! Now, do we have an agreement? Will you think about what you really want?" The kid in front of you is both confused and taken aback. Nobody ever in his life showed this much concern about him. He genuinely takes in these words and does not take them for granted. "I… I will think about it… sir." "Good! I don't need a good kid such as yourself to end up being dead, you hear me?" This kid sure is something, isn't he, Sire? You can sense that beneath that attitude there is still a young heart, yearning for some direction and learning. He wants to grow but just does not know how. You suddenly remember that besides you and Warrick here, in this room, there is also Stella. "Oh, shit…" You turn to Stella, who looks at you with a somewhat kind expression. "Good to see there being something more to you than being just a detective." "Don't make fun of me…" "I am not, I am just glad that I was wrong about you yet again. Anyway, I scanned the items and it will be-" "Done, here is the ten, you can keep the change." You slap a ten-dollar bill on the counter. "And about that Hanged Man advice? I… I will also think about it." "Good. And I hope my advice will help you in the future as well." You nod to Stella, and then you turn around and exit the store, without saying goodbyes, knowing that you will meet her later today at Pizza Time. However, once outside this location holds you still as Warrick chases after you. "W-wait, pigfu-... Officer Rando!" Well, that's new. You turn to the kid, a surprised expression betrays your stoic self. "I just wanted to ask about your investigation… Have you got the guy yet?" Why is he worried? "No, we are still looking." "Figured, there has been… a rumor." "A rumor?" "These leatherhead freaks, Jurassic Sunrise they call themselves, have been knocking some heads around town, searching for someone… I bet tis the guy from the basement." "How did you figure that one out?" "I just thought that the timing could not be better. Besides, I heard them describing him and… I still remember how the corpse looked." Chief, this kid has a good visual memory. A wonderful trait for the detective to have. "I-I can help you! Listen in on their progress! You don't have to worry, I will make sure I am safe." "Kid, I cannot…" "Sir, dis motherfuckers are gonna torch the streets! Dem said that once these fuckhead find responsible they will bleed the towns dry! I don't want to see that!" For some reason, you can sense an incredible drive fueled by a spirit of justice and duty. Just like you, this kid also wants to protect these streets. Somehow he survived here all this time, it is not hard to assume that the locals helped him a lot. And he fears that something may happen to them if the worst-case scenario is reached. "Still, you are a kid, you can't jump head-first into danger. If you hear something, you can tell me, but don't do stupid shit! Got it?" "Yes sir…" "Don't feel you need to risk yourself for others' sake. You are a kid, you can be a bit selfish right now." You smile at him, trying to instill confidence in him. Whether it worked or not is hard to say. "But… I want to do something." "You don't have to do anything. Let the police handle this situation…" You think to yourself "If only we found one of those guns"... You only now notice that you said that one out loud. "Guns? Have you not getten an entire box of dem?" "Ah… about that, they all fake, that box was a… it was a bait to waste police's time." "So, why do you need a gun?" "There is something brewing, kid, something nasty. If we found even one gun from the crates that were inside that basement before Union scrapped them, we could have at least a chance to solve this case." As you say that, you notice that Warrick submerges deep into his own thoughts. Then something clicked inside his head. "So, as long as you gotten one gun it will be enough?" "Maybe, who knows." "... I need to be somewhere… I will contact you later!" Suddenly the kid dashed in the opposite direction. "Oi, where are you going, kid?" "There is something I remembered! As I said, wait for me to call you!" Before you could even stop him, he is gone. What is this kid planning? Well, never mind that you know that he is not stupid. Selfish and rude? Definitely. Stupid? If he was, he wouldn't have been alive today. Unwrapping one of the peppermints, you put it into your mouth to chase away the drinking fever, diminishing your desire for a stiff drink. For now, you need to remain as sober as possible. Alright, if the case does not come to you yet, then maybe it is not the time. For now, play it cool, and act as if everything's under control. Then, walk around the streets and peel your eyes open, searching for every small detail! Sooner or later, fortune will smile upon you… You wonder what type of card Stella's deck will reveal by the end of the month. *** After a long day of working, I immediately ran to attend my evening classes. Today it will be a lot longer than the last time. Not only that, I also want to talk with Shuyaku about attending Martial Arts classes. To summarize, today was nothing special. I met Reed, who still mentally preparing himself for the meeting with Trish. How could I tell? He did not order that rancid Reed's Special. That means he is not in the mood for it because I saw him ordering at least three of them every day ever since I started to work here. Fang also came by. She did not remain here for long, just for a few moments to check on me. When Tracy saw her, she immediately sent me on my break so that I could have a smoke with Fang. While on break we did nothing but talk about random bullshit to pass the time. Honestly, her being here makes me ever so more confident in myself. When my break came to an end, Fang left the dinner, wishing me luck. And boy did I need it. After being exposed to all the manner of disgusting creatures known as customers, I was finally free. Thanking Tracy for today and receiving my daily payment, as I said before, I immediately went to school. Nothing too impressive happened during classes. Just two 2-hour long lectures. One with Shuyaku, and another with Bars. After being whiplashed by how different their lectures are, the day of learning comes to an end… But I still have to do something in this school today. Exiting the classroom I immediately go to the upper floors, where the classes for martial arts take place. Shuyaku right now teaching some people… I don't know, kung fu or something? I need to ask him what the differences are between the martial arts classes, maybe I will pick something that suits me. As I ascend to the third floor of the building, I notice that the atmosphere here is completely different from the ones on the first and second floors. This place feels out of this world like I just walked in on a set of the 80s action movie. Sliding doors, a floor covered in wooden planks, it looks like a genuine Japanese interior. Now, where is Shuyaku? Ask, and you shall receive, I hear the noise that sounds like a group of people shouting. Assuming that this is where the class is, I moved towards the sound. As the sound becomes louder, I also start to hear the sound of, what it feels like, something being thrown around. Approaching the door that I need, I knock on it and wait for the response. As I knock, the noises inside stop and someone approaches the door. The door slides open and I see Shuyaku, still in his usual kimono, standing in front of me. His expression was serious, but I could tell that he was happy to see me. "Ah, Anon! Good to see you on this floor! Have you decided to participate in the evening martial arts classes too?" "About that, yes, I decided to at least look into it. I mean, you know, after how you easily defeated me I felt like I needed a bit more training." Shuyaku cackles, like he just heard the best joke ever. "Anon, I can sense what you really want, there is no shame in trying new things to find what you can and cannot do… Do you have some time? We have a judo class today." "A judo?" "Yes, it is the style that appears to be simple, but it is anything but simple. You can observe this class and see if you'd like to attend it." "Really?" "Yes, besides, there is someone you'd like to meet here." Huh? What does that mean? This crap happens to me a lot as of late. What? Naser will pop out? Rosa? What that person I heard Fang mentioning a couple of times back in high school… Sage or something? I never met them, but at this point, I won't be fucking surprised. But I discard those thoughts, for now, I want to see what this class has to offer. I nod to Shuyaku and he steps aside, allowing me to enter the classroom. And oh boy does it look different. This place feels like something you'd see inside a dojo in a movie or a game. Spacious interior, soft floors, there is a circle in the middle. There are several students all in different colored judogi if that is what they are called. And finally, there are two people currently inside the ring. One of them is MASSIVE, and they sport long, dark hair. While everyone else stopped training when I entered, the two who were currently having a spar did not stop. The other one, a shorter green triceratops tried to grab his opponent but instead got reversed and then he ended up on the floor. The massive man did not, however, show any sign of satisfaction or pride in his victory. Instead, he helped his fellow student up. This man was wearing a black judogi with a red belt. Huh? Why do I feel like I know them? As they turned around I saw a familiar, angular face. This man appears to be more of an ape than a human. A distant, primal cosine of mankind… no, this man is... Didn't Shuyaki tell me a few days ago that they were friends? The man, after seeing me steps off the fighting circle and approaches me. His hands are behind his back and he towers over me. He looks directly into my eyes. "This is rather an unexpected encounter, is it not? I haven't seen you in three years, and yet you remain the same troublesome young man I used to lecture all the back. Good to see you doing well." Yes, I can recognize that voice anywhere. The one that a few times left me almost deaf. "Good evening, Principal Spears."