poohlive
Silly Ole Bear
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2000
- Posts
- 11,389
This is a private thread, only because I don't want more people just coming in unannounced. If you see what you like in here, check out the OOC, and tell me what you think. I'd love to see where you'd like to fit in here. https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?p=21356180#post21356180
This thread will be far different from others because I will not be playing one character, but many. I will be the GM, controlling all the non character players, telling you what clues you do find, or don't find, guiding you towards the end goal, or perhaps just leading you down a blind alley.
But, like real characters, the job here is to figure out the mystery. There has been a murder. Please, welcome the players onstage, and enjoy yourselves.
Clara
It isn't even noon yet. The clock stubbornly stays near eleven thirty, that second hand being drug through molassis to get around another minute. The constant clicking is all you can hear in your small office. Outside the hustle and bustle of a police station can be heard, muffled somewhat. As if trying to get in through the door, but unable.
Here, it's not a police station. This is only a small office, where a slender woman sits behind a small desk. There are very few papers on this desk, it can almost be called empty. Empty and alone.
Some pimply new recruit comes in. He must have gotten his badge yesterday, the way it shines brightly means he spent all night polishing it and hoping it sparkled in the flourescent lights overhead. He holds a thin case, too thin. He hands it to Clara.
"Captain says this is all yours," He said, a bit awkward, unsure of himself. He tried to find sometihng for his hands to do, but they just hang limply at his sides.
"No one's been able to do anything with it. Homicide, a week old. No leads, no finger prints. Whoever did it was good or lucky."
His words sound fake, foreign, as if he'd practiced them in the bathroom before coming here. Or maybe he'd heard others say it, more clever than him and decided he should sound clever and say them as well.
He just stood in front of her, waiting to be excused.
Woody
You wake up to a familiar face, sneering down at you on the couch. Before you even begin to move, you can feel strong hands over your body, keeping you down.
"Hello there Woody," this familiar face says. He's got a crooked nose, crooked teeth and when he speaks breath like day old wet dog comes out, infestering your nostrils. Not that your breath would be much worse, but you did just wake up a few seconds ago.
This guy must have been up early. His nice suit was worn, freshly showered, shaved. Apart from the scars running down his face, and his breath, he might even be a looker.
"Johnny wants to know when he'll get his money."
This is Johnny's guy. He's woken you up like this several times before. You know the drill, first the questions, then the pain. He likes to have you hold down while he pummels your stomach. All soft tissue, and best of all no real bruises. You walk around funny all day and this guy just sneers at it all.
Lately it's been worse. Last time you peed blood for two days. Johnny's guy is tough, strong, and his fists are like iron. Already he's tightening them up, waiting for that familiar answer before he can begin.
"Johnny's been so nice giving you all these extensions, but even nice guys have their limits. I don't want to see you taking advantage of my boss' hospitality."
One punch, right below the sternun. It knocks the wind out of you, makes it hard to breath. The two other goons, not as smart but looking just as strong keep you held down as you fight, struggling against the pain.
"This is the last time I ask... where's the money?"
Lucy
"And this will make it final," The lawyer said, passing the papers along to her. The room looked stunning, all wood and dark green. Books lined an entire wall, huge heavy lawyer type books. They looked impressive, even if they weren't ever used, collecting dust on the shelves for eternity, they looked impressive. Anyone with that kind of a collection must be impressive.
This was a high class law firm though. Duncan and Royale, with thirteen practicing lawyers of several branches. It dealt with some of the most substantial people in the world, every single client took in over a million a year, some of them retiring to wonderful private islands.
The secretary came in, clean and professional. She had the high ball that you ordered. She looked a bit disgusted when you ordered it, some small sneer in her lips before she rushed off to get it. When she asked for drinks she was thinking water or coffee, not an actual drink.
Still, it was set in front of her. As were the papers. Special papers. These were Vincent's last will and testaments. It left the money he'd gotten from their parents all to her.
He'd spent a good deal of it. When he got the lion's share of the money at their parent's death, it was just under 30 million. Now, she would be getting 10, plus a couple of assets, including the 2.4 million dollar home where he'd been found dead.
There was a red sticker placed for her to sign. Then she would be a millionaire, and all her problems would be gone.
"Is there anything else I can get you?" The secretary stood up, straight and stiff, putting this woman down as best she could. Which seemed pretty good considering.
This thread will be far different from others because I will not be playing one character, but many. I will be the GM, controlling all the non character players, telling you what clues you do find, or don't find, guiding you towards the end goal, or perhaps just leading you down a blind alley.
But, like real characters, the job here is to figure out the mystery. There has been a murder. Please, welcome the players onstage, and enjoy yourselves.
Clara
It isn't even noon yet. The clock stubbornly stays near eleven thirty, that second hand being drug through molassis to get around another minute. The constant clicking is all you can hear in your small office. Outside the hustle and bustle of a police station can be heard, muffled somewhat. As if trying to get in through the door, but unable.
Here, it's not a police station. This is only a small office, where a slender woman sits behind a small desk. There are very few papers on this desk, it can almost be called empty. Empty and alone.
Some pimply new recruit comes in. He must have gotten his badge yesterday, the way it shines brightly means he spent all night polishing it and hoping it sparkled in the flourescent lights overhead. He holds a thin case, too thin. He hands it to Clara.
"Captain says this is all yours," He said, a bit awkward, unsure of himself. He tried to find sometihng for his hands to do, but they just hang limply at his sides.
"No one's been able to do anything with it. Homicide, a week old. No leads, no finger prints. Whoever did it was good or lucky."
His words sound fake, foreign, as if he'd practiced them in the bathroom before coming here. Or maybe he'd heard others say it, more clever than him and decided he should sound clever and say them as well.
He just stood in front of her, waiting to be excused.
Woody
You wake up to a familiar face, sneering down at you on the couch. Before you even begin to move, you can feel strong hands over your body, keeping you down.
"Hello there Woody," this familiar face says. He's got a crooked nose, crooked teeth and when he speaks breath like day old wet dog comes out, infestering your nostrils. Not that your breath would be much worse, but you did just wake up a few seconds ago.
This guy must have been up early. His nice suit was worn, freshly showered, shaved. Apart from the scars running down his face, and his breath, he might even be a looker.
"Johnny wants to know when he'll get his money."
This is Johnny's guy. He's woken you up like this several times before. You know the drill, first the questions, then the pain. He likes to have you hold down while he pummels your stomach. All soft tissue, and best of all no real bruises. You walk around funny all day and this guy just sneers at it all.
Lately it's been worse. Last time you peed blood for two days. Johnny's guy is tough, strong, and his fists are like iron. Already he's tightening them up, waiting for that familiar answer before he can begin.
"Johnny's been so nice giving you all these extensions, but even nice guys have their limits. I don't want to see you taking advantage of my boss' hospitality."
One punch, right below the sternun. It knocks the wind out of you, makes it hard to breath. The two other goons, not as smart but looking just as strong keep you held down as you fight, struggling against the pain.
"This is the last time I ask... where's the money?"
Lucy
"And this will make it final," The lawyer said, passing the papers along to her. The room looked stunning, all wood and dark green. Books lined an entire wall, huge heavy lawyer type books. They looked impressive, even if they weren't ever used, collecting dust on the shelves for eternity, they looked impressive. Anyone with that kind of a collection must be impressive.
This was a high class law firm though. Duncan and Royale, with thirteen practicing lawyers of several branches. It dealt with some of the most substantial people in the world, every single client took in over a million a year, some of them retiring to wonderful private islands.
The secretary came in, clean and professional. She had the high ball that you ordered. She looked a bit disgusted when you ordered it, some small sneer in her lips before she rushed off to get it. When she asked for drinks she was thinking water or coffee, not an actual drink.
Still, it was set in front of her. As were the papers. Special papers. These were Vincent's last will and testaments. It left the money he'd gotten from their parents all to her.
He'd spent a good deal of it. When he got the lion's share of the money at their parent's death, it was just under 30 million. Now, she would be getting 10, plus a couple of assets, including the 2.4 million dollar home where he'd been found dead.
There was a red sticker placed for her to sign. Then she would be a millionaire, and all her problems would be gone.
"Is there anything else I can get you?" The secretary stood up, straight and stiff, putting this woman down as best she could. Which seemed pretty good considering.
