((OOC: The reason why i switched the format to a script was because i found it to flow faster. And thank you everyone for your comment on my post. Also, Lokuri, very sorry about name. I should of noticed as because I've seen it in a previous post. But now, i'll remember for sure.
Also, this isn't done yet, but i'm planning to update it in chucks as the RP go. We can just move on to the next post, and if you are ever interested in Jack's backstory, you can just check this post every once in a while, and it will be updated. This way, the momentum of the RP does come to a halt.))
Jack Rabbit sat across from Katrina in the Reassurer’s lounge, a smoke barely dangling from his fingers. The woman didn’t speak, only stared. So Jack took a sip of water a nearby fountain and prepared himself.
“What is loyalty?” Jack Rabbit spoke, as he took blew the smoke out. Thought it, he can clearly seen Katrina’s eyes flaring with a mixture of rage and fear, and her mouth moved slightly, wanting to cut in, but he didn’t let her.
“What does it mean to be loyal?” he asked the question more to himself then for Katrina to answer. How long as he wandered back into this journey, he didn’t know, but he guessed it was time to do it again.
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There a moments in a person’s life, where one will find themselves stare into the blank space beyond, and ask the question,
“What now?” Such was the case for Jack when he stood before Gregory’s tombstone. There were no clues in sight of the murder, well, except one that made himself the suspect. So to take up time, he is now mourning for Gregory. He was not alone in the cemetery, as a woman was weeping beside him, but Jack didn’t gave a second thought about it. It’s Gregory’s personal business, and he was not much of a comforter. Besides, he’s here think, the next step. So after standing half an hour before the grave, Jack left the cemetery, a fresh lead in his head.
He hasn’t contacted majority of the family members, but the first name that ran to his head for help was Larry Bat. Larry Bat was a walking library. Most resourceful of the members, and is responsible to keep all kinds of records. Just like a bat, Larry lived in a isolated place, with minimum lighting, the one reason his eyesight got so horribly damaged. Jack and Larry wasn’t the best of friends, but Jack trusted him the most and is just hoping Larry thinks the same.
He knocked the plywood door of a house, which was sandwiched between a nuclear reactor, and a chemical production plant. Simply put, horrible locations for a house. It took a while for the chubby man to make his way to the door. Jack saw him look through the peephole, and a moment later, the door was open with a shrill creek.
Larry: Jack?
Jack: We need to talk.
Larry: Well I’m bored anyway, so coming in and find a seat yourself.
Larry stepped back from the door, and Jack squeezed through between his belly and the door frame.
Jack: Thanks for letting me in.
Larry: Why wouldn’t I?
Jack: Because of this.
Jack took out his blade, and showed it to Larry, he stared at it briefly and shrugged.
Larry: You mean it looked similar to the murder weapon?
Jack: I think that’s enough incentive for you to keep the door shut shouldn’t it.
Larry snorted, and shook his head.
Larry: I don’t think it’s you.
Jack: Why not?
Larry: Because of this.
Larry pulled from his pant pocket a knife which looked like a carbon copy of Jack’s. And flipped the blade out, waving it in front of Jack, as he grinned.
Jack: How did you…
Larry: This is the one from the murder scene. Which means, if you did kill pa, you wouldn’t be able to show me your knife. Of course, you could have just bought another one. However, if I know anything about you, it’s that you can’t part with your knife, it’s one of those quirks people have. There are other clues too. I understand I’m relying on faith a lot, but in a time like this, what can you rely on?
Larry walked past Jack Rabbit and toward the kitchen.
Larry: Now let’s stop scaring each other with the murder weapon and let me get you something to drink? Since I’m generous, your choice. Stale tea, or stale coffee.
Jack put his knife back, and took a seat on top of a book stack.
Jack: Whichever one doesn’t kill me.
Larry nodded, and poured the tea into a mug and brought it to Jack while taking a seat across from him. The back sank slightly under the weight, and whined as it is trying to hold.
Larry: I think you are here to ask me for help?
Jack: I guess so.
Larry: You know, over the years, you never helped me with anything, not even to buy me a hot dog during the Olympic Games.
Jack: Well, I think in your case, that’s a good thing.
Larry: So why should I help you?
Jack: I don’t know.
Larry: Wrong answer Jack, it’s because we are a family. I don’t know why people stopped using the word “family” after Pa died. It’s like taboo.
Jack: Maybe because everyone’s almost gone from here.
Larry: My mother’s in Germany right now, and you are telling me that we are not a family, just because she can’t be here with me?
Jack: No….
Larry attempted to stand up, but couldn’t, so he stayed seated. He sighed, either at his failure, or at Jacks’ reply.
Larry: I’ll help you, but that means I’m going to interrogate you a bit.
Jack: Great, I was expecting it to be sooner.
Larry: First of all, we all know one thing, and that’s the knife. So the question is, where did you get your knife Jack?
Jack stopped and thought, it seemed so long ago, he can’t recall, a time in his childhood.
Jack: A friend gave it to me when I was young.
Jack tries to piece the fragments together.
Jack: A gift bought….
Jack took out the blade and rotated it around, until he found the words inscribed deep in the handle, “Made in Thailand.”
Jack: …from Thailand.
Larry nodded thoughtfully, and his eyes suddenly lit up. He tried to stand up but failed once again.
Larry: Can you help me?
Jack nodded and pulled him up, it broke a bead sweat.
Larry: If that friend of yours is within the organization, then I’m sure his business travels will be recorded in a log somewhere. Let me get to my computer.
Larry wobbled to a room and Jack followed after him into his studies. With horrible ventilation, the room was filled with the smell of unwashed clothes. Larry took a seat behind a monitor, and pulled the keyboard up. He pulled up series of logs, and searched for “Thailand”. Several name came up. Jack scanned the names as he went down the year, and suddenly stopped.
Jack: It’s him.
Jack pointed to the monitor, at the name, “Mike van Dyke”.
Larry: He’s a gardener at Pa’s place, and senior almost the same age as Pa. He gave you the knife. What is the old guy doing giving you a knife? Shaving?
Jack stood up.
Jack: At first I thought it might be someone my own age, but yeah, now I’m sure of it, it must have been him.
Images flashed in Jack’s mind. It was when Jack was the in the orphanage. Mike visited him like he always does after a business trip, at the time, he was still in his early forties. Jack always thought of him as an uncle, and would always grab onto Mike’s sleeve to beg him to play a game with him. During the time when he came back from Thailand, he called Jack to him, and handed him that knife. Then he pulled another knife from his pocket and handed it to…to who? Jack squeezed his forehead in frustration; he only remembered a smile, spread across a thin lip.
Jack’s thought was soon disturbed by Larry.
Larry: You want to check out the crime scene? Or have you seen it already.
Jack: No I didn’t, I was just in time to go to the funeral.
Larry: Well, doesn’t hurt to show you. Besides, there’s something you need to see.
Moment later, Jack was standing beside Larry in Papa Bear’s house. Nothing was moved, not even the kitchenware in the sink which is now giving off a putrid smell which Jack deemed to be unhealthy.
Larry: Follow me, it’s upstairs.
Larry led Jack up the creaking staircase and into the narrow hallway of the second floor. There were no windows here, the only light source is a light hanging in the middle, which is dead, since no electricity ran in the house anymore. Larry took out a small flashlight, and turned it on, guiding Jack into a far door on the right. When Larry pushed the door open, Jack saw what he expected to see.
The stains of blood stayed on the bed, now dried to a brown crust. The walls stay untouched, no sighs of struggle. A large clear window took its place behind the bed, granting a view into the garden below. Nothing was touched after the crime, the smell of the senior stayed within the room, casting a haunting feeling on Jack. To say the least, the old man’s passing came as a surprise. Larry waved for Jack to come to the bedside, lifting the cover sheet to review several blood stained letter, spelling out the word “forge”.
Larry: We found it after we moved Pa. At first, I didn’t know what it meant. But after a while I realized. Pa loved you the most, and after seeing the murder weapons he must of realized that we might suspect you, and tried to tell us it was a forgery.
Jack: If Pa saw the murder weapon, that must of meant he saw who murdered him, why didn’t he gave clues to that instead.
Larry: As I said, Pa loved you the most, he’d rather declare your innocence then worrying about revenge.
Jack didn’t spoke for a moment, as his mind drift into a thought. He broke out of it a moment later.
Jack: Gregory told me something before he died. He gave me a list of names of the people in the house. It was you, Philip, Brown, and Jamie. I believe he suspect one of you is the murder.
Larry held a disturbed look, and stared at Jack.
Larry: He lied.
Jack: About?
Larry: There was another person in the house he didn’t mention.
Jack: Who?
Larry: Mother Goose.
Jack: Mother Goose?
Larry: The next head to the family in the case that something happened to Pa.
Jack: How come I never knew her?
Larry: She was appointed only a few years ago, and you were rarely at home anyway, so you probably just never heard.
Jack: Why would Gregory lie about it? From the benefit point of view, Mother Goose could be a suspect.
Larry shook his head at Jack’s words.
Larry: No, I don’t think so. Besides there are other reason Gregory might leave her out.
Larry spotted a glimmer in jack’s eyes behind the mask, and knew something was on his mind.
Larry: If you want to, I can set up an appointment for you with Mother Goose.
Jack: She’s still in the Central?
Larry: Yes, you have to understand, she has a personality similar to Pa’s. She wouldn’t leave the place.
Jack: When can you set it up?
Larry: Tomorrow afternoon.
Jack: I can’t just see her directly.
Larry: Sorry, procedures.
Jack: Who set these procedures.
Larry: Mother Goose’s.
Jack: I’ll wait for the news then.
Jack left Larry standing in the room, as he made his way down the hall.
Larry: Where are you going?
Jack: I want to check my room.
Larry: Nostalgia?
Jack pushed open the door labeled “Jack” and stopped as he did so.
Jack: Do you know anyone who’ve might have been to the house before us?
Larry: Maybe why?
Jack: I used to be pretty paranoid when it comes to people sneaking around, so I often spray ash on the door matt, so if anyone were to come in, there’d be prints. And look at this.
Jack pointed on the floor, revealing a set of foot prints that slowly fades as it goes into the middle of the room. Jack followed the prints into the room, and looked around for anything that might be of interest to the intruder. He pulled open the cabinet and pulled out the books from the shelf.
Jack: Help me check.
Jack handed Larry half the stack, then Jack flipped through his half, checking for markings or any signs of handling. He stopped as he reached the middle of one book, and closed the book to look at the cover, “Photo Album”. He flipped back to the page he was on before, and slipped out a group photo from the thin protective film. Nothing was out of ordinary except for one thing. A person was cut out from the group. Jack flipped to the back to check the name, and found everyone’s name was wiped out with a dark permanent marker. He tried to lift it to the light from the window, hoping to catch a glimpse, but the layer was too thick. Instead, on top of the black ink, written in white out was the words,
“Bang! Who shot the rabbit in the dark?”