Cyrania — Roleplayer Guild

 M A R T I A N  M A N H U N T E R
M A R T I A N  M A N H U N T E R

An APARTMENT BY HUDSON RIVER
Manhattan/Bronx, New York City

Despite the time of day, Detective Jones managed to find a place to park near the dingy older building, one of those unfortunate cases where if it weren't in the wrong part of town, it would still be a well-kept, pretty place. As it was, the old facade was peeling away and graffiti marked the alleyway beside it. John took a deep breath of what clean air there was then started up the front steps, noting the clearly frequent fresh paint in front on either side of the doorframe. He opened the door and a bell clinked at his entrance.

"Wadda want?" An older, matronly-looking woman with wispy white hair glared from her reception desk, stamping her cigarette into the nigh-full ashtray at her elbow. "It's a bit busy today."

"I know, Miss Roberts." He then came forward and revealed his badge. "I'm Detective Jones, here to join in the investigation of Mr. Davis's apartment." 

"Hmph! Didn't think a cop gumshoe would bother comin' down here." Then she took out a new cigarette, flicked her lighter, and lit it up. "Davis's apartment is up the stairs at door number 4. Your buddies are already there making a mess of things."

Jones' eyes fixated between the lighter and lit cigarette. "Thank you." Then he went calmly but quickly up the stairs. Keep it together! It was just one small lighter. One small lighter.... Then he shook his head, came to the apartment door, then showed his badge. "Detective Jones reporting to duty." 

"Why Jones!" Officer Stanley O'Leary beckoned him under the tape, a pleasant, jolly fellow. "I didn't know they'd assign you here. You're a full-fledged detective then."

Jones smiled.  "It's my first day this morning." 

"Congratulations, Jones!" He gave a hearty slap on the back. "If any of us deserved the rank, it's you."

"Thank you." Then he ditched the gaiety.  "Lieutenant Baxter gave me the initial report. Any changes?"

O'Leary's eyes then turned somber. "Not much." Then he started leading Jones to the kitchen where the body still lay. "Forensics is still analyzing things. The body is going to be moved for a full post-mortem, but no one's been available to do that yet. Somehow I doubt there's any drugs involved here, but you never really know."

"Indeed." Jones then got his first good look at the body and stooped down.

Mr. William Davies had a definitely seedy appearance about him. His scruff of a beard was coarse, his black hair was oily, his clothes were baggy and unkempt, his body was extremely thin and reedy. Still, nothing about him seemed to deserve the ghastliness of the stab in his neck. Laying next to him was the bloody kitchen dagger, numbered and labeled as such; a long, thin implement.

He turned his attention to it, placing on plastic gloves. "So this is the murder weapon."

"Yeah. Was one of the couple's. Seems whoever broke hadn't brought a weapon and grabbed the nearest thing."

"Unusual for a burglar..." Jones then took hold of the knife, turning it closely in his hands while he allowed it's memories to crest over him. 

It started in darkness, held within its place. Then suddenly it was drawn out by long-fingered hands. The kitchen light was on and William Davies had his back to his attacker. The next moment, the knife was plunged in and-

"Just finished talking with Mrs. Davies, O'Leary." A new voice came towards the kitchen. "She still doesn't have an inkling of who else could have come in and- Who's this?"

"Ah, Turnbull. This, is our newest detective, John Jones. Jones, this is Charlie Turnbull. He's one of our newest recruits."

John placed the knife back where it was, slid off the glove, then gave out his hand to the new officer. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." 

Turnbull sighed then shook his hand. "Good to meet you as well, I suppose." His handshake, as well as everything about him, was crisp, sturdy, and professional. His uniform was put on neatly over a clearly athletic build, all his gear was in their proper places, and his dark brown eyes glint intelligently if with some annoyance. All in all, about as opposite of O'Leary as you could get, even down to hair, eye, and skin color. Someone at the office likely had fun when they decided to pair the two. "We've already done most your work though. Miss Davis was asleep in her room last night and so didn't hear what went on. Only found out this morning. She isn't sure where her daughter is, but she listed some likely places she'd hide so other officers went to check them out while we remained to guard the crime scene. She'll most likely be found. A burglar that didn't even bother to bring his own weapon wouldn't be the type to kidnap a kid."

Jones raised his eyebrow.  "Are we certain that it was a burglary?" 

"Of course we are! We found the front door lock busted. All of Mrs. Davis's jewelry was missing and that was the most valuable thing in this d- place. Seems Davis must have woken up, seen the guy tying to take his wife's jewelry, followed after him, and then ended up stabbed for his troubles."

All sounded plausible, but didn't quite line up with the vision... "Was there no gun in the apartment?"

Turnbull blinked. "Yeah, but it's in their 'gun locker' in the closet. I wouldn't blame an average guy that just woke up to find a burglar in his house to forget the gun and try to tackle the guy barehanded."

His brow furrowed. "True...I assume forensics is still working on the fingerprint test." Almost absentmindedly, he tested the kitchen light then jerked back. Still quite warm, it was left on most of the night.

"For sure," O'Leary nodded. "Though the boys say that the knife handle was either wiped or the person wore gloves so it won't do much good."

The handle had to have been wiped after the fact then. "Has Clara's room been examined yet?"

O'Leary shook his head. "Only briefly. You're welcome to look in if you want. It's down the hall then through the door to the left.

"Thank you. Then he headed on with the officers slightly following him.

"Why's he checking in there?" Turnbull loudly whispered to O'Leary. "There's no signs of a struggle, no signs anything happened in there."

"Jones is just the type that likes to make sure he's through." O'Leary answered back. "Besides, this could be part of one of his hunches."

He could about hear the eyebrow raise even as he looked into the girl's bedroom, looking so peaceful and cozy, asides from the fact that the little girl wasn't there. "One of his hunches?"

"Laugh all you want, but Jones' hunches are to be trusted. I've been with him on investigations over a dozen times. When he's on the trail of something, no matter how odd it seems, he's sure to be on the right one. It's almost psychic how he does it."

 "Don't attribute to pseudoscience what is merely the result of deductive reasoning, O'Leary."  Jones called back in a now old familiar refrain. If he ever actually allowed the possibility of him being psychic get rooted in... Odd, why was this stuffed animal on the floor? He picked up a seemingly very well-loved teddy bear, looking it carefully over.

So many memories were intertwined with this bear. Happier ones of carousels and ice cream with Daddy, sadder ones of lying awake at night while fights raged outside the door, Mommy and Daddy yelling and screaming. Jones shifted through them all, until he came to the most recent one.

The door suddenly flung open, revealing a furious mother. Clara hugged Teddy more tightly as she froze.

"Come on stupid girl! Get out of bed, now!"

"But it's still nighttime..."

"Get up!" Mommy then dragged her out of bed, bruising her arm. "You're going to make mommy the happiest she's ever been. Don't you want to make mom happy?!"

"Ye-Yes."

"Then stop stalling! And leave behind that stupid bear." Teddy was then flung out of Clara's arms and fell on the other side of the bed.

"No, Teddy!" Clara cried out. "Daddy. Daddy!"

Jones shook himself. Then readied an evidence bag and threw himself to the floor, searching it inch by inch. There had to be signs. There had to be...Ah ha! There it was! A piece of red fabric caught onto the door hinge, and if he was right, on it was a blood stain.

 "O'Leary! Turnbull! Get a picture of this!" 

The two hurried over, Turnbull immediately ready with the camera then taking pictures where he pointed. "...You think this came from the burglar."

 "I suspect it came from the murderer, yes." 

"Heaven Almighty." O'Leary let out. "He came in here after all!"

"We can still find our man. No matter where he goes."

"I believe." Jones then placed the cloth within the evidence bag.  "'Our man' might be nearer than we think. I need to ask some questions of Mrs. Davis now."

Turnbull shrugged. "You can but I don't think you'll get much more. She's across the hallway in, their old room."

 "Thank you."  Then he strode on over, opening the door with a sudden frostiness.

Within, clothes were scattered all about. And in the middle, on the bed, sat Mrs. Wilma Davis herself, appearing perfectly devastated among the wreckage of her life. And still wearing that very red dress. Jones then allowed himself to reach out a bit, just in case, then found himself somewhat relieved. Mrs. Davis wasn't alone in the bedroom. With that, he cleared his throat.  "My apologies for intruding while you are 'grieving', Mrs. Davis. But I still have some questions for you."

She then looked up. "Who are you? And why do I have to answer more questions? I tell you, I don't know anything about what happened last night!"

"Detective Jones, ma'am. However, I think you might be able to tell us a little more..." Then he took out the bit of cloth. "Do you recognize this?"

She stilled. "Yeah...Looks like its off of my dress. This old thing has likely lost lots of cloth like that. But it could also have come from the burglar."

"This particular tear does seem recent. Perhaps from late last night? We found it on the door going into your daughter's room..."

Mrs. Davis just stared.

Turnbull sighed. "Are you seriously accusing her of doing away with her daughter? What would even be the motive?"

"That could be a variety of things..." He started walking around the room, glancing at the pictures on the walls and slowly inching towards where that other mind lay. "These pictures on the wall show the steady decline in their marriage. You can see it in the faces, and who're in the pictures."

She scoffed. "Yeah, we had our rough spots, just because he was too lazy to get another job after he lost his last one. Doesn't mean anything. Lots of couples have falling outs."

"Many do. But not many decide to lie about not being up last night. Or should we believe your husband was sitting alone in the kitchen until the early morning when he somehow died then turned off the lights."

She froze, staring suddenly at where Jones was.

O'Leary frowned. "Why did either of them have to be up in the kitchen?"

"The kitchen light was still warm to the touch. And as they weren't currently on, I imagine that they were left on until right before she called the police. She did have quite a lot she wanted to do after all. 

Turnbull crossed his arms. "Like what?"

Found her! Unfortunately, she was in a chest. A locked chest. If he tried to just wake her up... "Where's the key to this chest?"

"I...I lost it some time ago."

"Why do you feel the need to open a random chest?! We're investigating a murder and kidnapping here! Not giving into your random flights of curiosity!"

"Because what's in this chest is important to the entire case. Find a way to open it!"

"No!" She stood up. "Don't open it! That's my private property!"

"We're dealing with murder here, Mrs. Davis. Everything in the apartment needs to be examined. Turnbull!"

He sighed. "Yes sir. Sorry, ma'am. But he does have a point..." Then he went and started lockpicking the chest.

Mrs. Davis's eyes became wider and wider. She sought to discretely exit from the room, only for O'Leary to block the door, staring at her warily. 

Turnbull then undid the lock and opened the chest. "There, it's now open. What's so import-?!" Then he froze as the cloth within faintly moved up and down. "Detective..."

 "Help me get her out!"  Then the tow of them flung coats and everything else every which where until at the bottom, they finally uncovered Clara, miserably as huddle up as she could be with ropes tying her limbs together, duct tape covering her mouth, and her tearstained eyes thankfully only closed in slumber. 

John could only stare as Turnbull managed to have the presence of mind to get the needed pictures for the records.

Mrs. Davis then tried to dart around O'Leary. 

"Oh no you're not!" But he just grabbed onto her tightly. "You, ma'am, have some questions to answer at the station." Then began to handcuff her.

As soon as Turnbull was done, Jones went down and gently lifted her out of what could have been her tomb, peeling off the tape as lightly as possible while Turnbull helped undo the lower ropes. As they finished untying her, she began to lightly wake, curling into Jones for warmth. And Jones could only stare and hold her close, tucking back some of her hair behind her ear. 

Mrs. Davis though tried to fight O'Leary off. "Let go of me, you big oaf!"

Jones then turned.  "I would suggest you come quietly, Mrs. Davis. And you might manage to get time off your sentence for good behavior. 

She started up a retort, only for something in Jones's eyes to stop her. With that, she meekly followed along with O'Leary.

Turnbull looked around. "I'll keep watch over the crime scene then, look for anything else that'll help with convincing a jury...I suppose you have to question her?" He glanced at the now sleeping child.

"Unfortunately...She is a key witness in this affair...Then if there's no close relatives...

"It's foster care...She's young though. She'd be quickly adopted."

"We can both hope so...Go ahead and take pictures of her room. Then I'll need to grab some of her things."

"Understood." Then he hurried on, camera in hand.

Jones meanwhile gave her back Teddy, sat down in the hallway, touched her head, and sought to soothe any rising bad dreams.

SOMEWHERE IN THE AMERICAN COUNTRYSIDE
Somewhere, USA

The sun began its descent as temp labs rose up and the swarm of scientists, lab techs, and engineers scrambled over the alien ship. Even without people, it certainly was a treasure trove. Most of them were happy enough to not even think about who came, where exactly they were from, and why they arrived. Others however were not as willing to ignore those questions.

Within one of the temp conference rooms, the lead scientist and colonel in charge both sat rigidly straight as the screen in front of them came to life. The colonel saluted first. "Evening, Commander."

"Don't 'evening' me unless you have something to report, colonel." Amanda Waller angrily sat back in her chair. "Have you found our mysterious 'visitors'?"

"No, ma'am...However, the scientists have figured out where they come from."

"That's something at least...Where are they from?"

"Mars." The scientist finally answered. "We were able to compare their navigational charts to our own and found that the world designated as the home planet was Mars, though they called it Ma'aleca'andra."

"Mars..." Amanda rubbed her eyes. "Our nearest neighbor and a place that was before content to remain on Mars. Any sign of why these guys suddenly decided to leave the planet?"

"Not exactly...Some things were disturbed by their seeming salvage operation. They also don't seem to have left records relaying why they came. And of course, what records do exist are within their language..."

"Then find some linguists and get it translated! I've gotten reports that other ships have arrived around the world. And there are very few reasons for such a coordinated landing of multiple ships around the world!"

"But commander," the colonel sought to gently push. "If this was an invasion, surely they would have attacked by now. Or made some obvious move."

"We don't know Martian capabilities." She snapped back. "For all we know, we could be in an actual 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' situation. Take a note to watch out for that among your people. Anyone acts different then usual, quietly test to see if they're replaced."

"All that as it is," the scientist then chimed in. "We do have some time. Martians are not going to easily adapt to Earth gravity and atmosphere. They could be dead and we simply haven't found the bodies or they're alive but still adjusting somewhere. Until we know for certain that we've found a Martian and can, learn, from it, then I would say that even an invasion isn't too much to fear at the moment."

She sighed. "Your points are taken, doctor. Still, it's my duty to consider the worst case scenarios. You two, report anything to me you find out, no matter how small. Understood?"

"Understood, ma'am." They said in unison.

"Good. Eagle Point, out." Then the transmission ended and the two men finally allowed themselves to breathe.

The colonel looked over to his companion. "How likely do you really think that the Martians have died?"

"Practically nill." He cleaned his glasses. "Otherwise, we would have found bodies or even the powered remains of bodies. However, I do think it's more likely than not that they will need to acclimate themselves to Earth. For how long though is the real question."

He sighed. "Well, can't do much just sitting around." Then he got up. "I'll send out more patrols and start searching a wider radius. You and your boys get back to trying to find out what a Martian is."

"Understood." Then the two men headed out, not realizing that outside the wall of the room, there had been a visitor listening to every word. One who found it all very interesting.

Within the cave network, the Martians created light to move further within, away from the ship and the more frequent searches. And towards, where exactly? That was the main question within the leaders' minds.

"I still say we'd be better off staying in a small town." Le'i argued, again. "We could own a place with plenty of land for everyone to live together then only interact with humans when we had to. Less potential for mishaps. More ability to see if anyone else strange comes into town."

"But we would also be strangers," B'nja'in again argued back. "We would be the talk of the town for far too long and anyone could decide to investigate."

"That's only if they happened to come to the right small town!"

"That's still too much of a risk."

"Yet you'd want us to split up and then try to make it in the big cities. Do you realize how vulnerable we all would be in that case?! How easily we could be found out?!"

"We are fifty people, Le'i. I understand safety in numbers, but such a group is going to be too obviously big. I don't like the idea much either, but that's the truth of it."

"You're just seeking to make it so we're easily found and-!"

"Gentlemen, Gentlemen,"M'yr'am then came forward. "This is getting us nowhere. We cannot make this work if we're internally divided and we certainly can't be this uncertain once we're out of the caverns...Let's take a short break. I believe some of us could use it."

"Hey!" Ash'r came up, managing to only slightly pant. "I'm not that tired!"

Le'i frowned, then sighed. "Alright. Everyone, we'll rest here. I'll call when it's time to continue."

And the strange gathering found places to sit and lie down, some gathering up their power to imbue stones with light so that they could have some gentle illumination among the dark caverns.

Ash'r quickly came up with the three leaders, resting on his makeshift blanket. "So...I know I didn't hear everything...But it seemed like the main options were stay together and basically make a commune but also be super suspicious to anyone that came by or split up and seek to hide in the city which would then make us more vulnerable to being picked off one by one. That's basically the jist of it?"

"Indeed, Ash'r." M'yr'am managed a soft smile. "We'll make a diplomat of you yet."

He then blushed. "Thanks, ma'am...Still, neither sounds like great options..."

"We don't have the luxury of 'great' options." B'nja'in sighed. "Merely better and worst ones, each with their merits but also with their flaws. I can see all the benefits of sticking together in a place of our own, Le'i. But there are several problems with that. Not only is there the increased risk of detection and the obvious that we're hiding something, but there's also the costs associated with such a thing. Unless you want to start counterfeiting money, we'll need to make our own money somehow. Preferably, we'd do it as legally as we can so that we don't attract attention from the local government and be found out that way. But there's not going to be many ways to make the amount we need for all of us to live quickly enough, especially not in the small town idea of yours and especially not heavy manual labor."

Le'i crossed his arms. "Do you think I would be ashamed to work with my hands, me nor any of the other men? We were forced to work 10 years growing their crops, working their mines, and maintaining their cities. If it would help us be free, we'd undergo that all over again."

"I don't doubt you, Le'i." B'nja'in pushed up his glasses. "The problem is more that you're going to be physically weaker here. While we're better adjusted than we were, it still is going to take years before you've built up the muscle to do any of that. And given that we need to feed everyone, pay for wherever we end up, and eventually pay for clothes to save us that bit of energy when shapeshifting, we're going to need some other types of work that will pay much better and much quickly. That's another of the reasons that I say that a big city would be our best bet. There's more jobs and more job variety in the city."

Ash'r frowned. "But you're also saying we have to split up."

B'nja'in shrugged. "We studied all we could from that 'phone' you found for us. We could decide to find an apartment complex and live right near each other, but even that would ping on someone's radar. And we can't guarantee that there would be enough rentals in one area for that. Besides, if we do split up, if one group is found, the rest have the best chance of continuing on."

"But at the sacrifice of those that get found." M'yr'am sighed. "I have to agree with Le'i there. We are best off staying together and seeing if we can make contact with any other the other groups. However, I also can see how we would blend in better in a large city as Dr. B'nja'in has been saying. I would suggest then that we stay together within a big city, but we will put this to a proper vote. Everyone else deserves to have a voice in their futures."

"And if we go for a city," Ash'r pipped in. "We're still left with the question of which one. There's at least a couple dozen that we could choose from, all throughout the country."

"New York City would be the biggest and most cosmopolitan." B'nja'in responded. "But M'yr'am is right, it should be a vote."

"Then we'll have to figure out the next steps." Le'i started to rise back up. "One step at a time."
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