Post by Djinn on Jun 11, 2015 12:35:59 GMT -5
Hell's Garden was not nearly as nightmarish a place as the name would seem to indicate. A modest Marine base had been built here to protect a rare fruit; more accurately to safeguard the rest of the world from the same peculiar produce. The people who lived on the island seemed like decent people, but this was his first time on Goya, and he knew better than to take things at face value. Though they seemed like decent people, there was a monster hiding among them; two people had died already, additional fatalities seemed like an almost foregone conclusion. When he and his crew were diverted from returning to G-6 after a routine patrol of the seas surrounding the Lanza Chain, he had no idea that the case waiting for him would be one this atrocious. The evidence the local garrison's investigation had produced was obtuse and unfathomable, so he'd taken a break from pouring through the reports to get a bit of exercise. A bead of sweat trickled up his neck and across his face, barely missing his open left nostril, before dripping off of his forehead and onto the wooden floor. His arms were tense from holding the ninety degree hand-stand push up, but this was a regular part of his workouts so there was little chance of the toned sinews giving in. He held it for a moment or two longer, then extended back up before dipping back down again. This was all automatic, since he was busy thinking about the daunting investigation that lay before him. Though the two slayings were obviously connected by methodology and the same impossibilities, there were other things that didn't add up to your typical killings. Before he could ponder the circumstances surrounding the case any further, there was a knock at the door.
Dropping down from his inverted position, the Marine planted his feet on the floor in a crouch before getting up. He grabbed a towel off of his desk as well as a cigarette from the pack he'd left next to the dossier and his book of crossword puzzles. Walking around the workstation to sit down in his chair, he flicked a match and lit up before exhaling and turning his stern gaze upon the closed door; "Enter." The door opened and the Seaman who'd been assigned to stand guard over his temporary office entered and saluted; "Captain Barras, sir. One of the Recruits under your command is requesting to meet with you." The Marine Officer ashed his cigarette and took another drag; "My crew is on shore-leave until I get this case sorted out. Tell whoever it is to go enjoy themselves..." The guard saluted again, "Yes, sir!"
The door closed and Barras was left alone with his thoughts again. His men had their role to play in the investigation as well. After all, since the base's garrison was in place to guard Hell's Garden, they couldn't effectively protect the people. He'd hoped that by granting his men a brief reprieve from their duties, their presence among the people could discourage further bloodshed until the Slasher could be caught. Again, his train of thought was derailed by a knocking at the entrance to his office! "What is it?!" Again, the same Seaman appeared, this time looking somewhat embarassed; "Sir! This recruit seems pretty determined to meet with you." The scarred swordsman's eyebrow peaked in annoyance, but he maintained his composure; "Fine, see them in." He swiveled around in his chair and looked up at the Marine Flag hanging on the wall, listening as a sound of booted foot falls sounded against the wooden floor, there was something strange about the sound of this persons steps. The door closed, and the Captain addressed his subordinate; "So, what was so important that you decided to disobey the ordered furlough I was kind enough to grant?" As he waited for this determined G-6er's answer, his cigarette continued to burn in the corner of the stern veteran's mouth.
Dropping down from his inverted position, the Marine planted his feet on the floor in a crouch before getting up. He grabbed a towel off of his desk as well as a cigarette from the pack he'd left next to the dossier and his book of crossword puzzles. Walking around the workstation to sit down in his chair, he flicked a match and lit up before exhaling and turning his stern gaze upon the closed door; "Enter." The door opened and the Seaman who'd been assigned to stand guard over his temporary office entered and saluted; "Captain Barras, sir. One of the Recruits under your command is requesting to meet with you." The Marine Officer ashed his cigarette and took another drag; "My crew is on shore-leave until I get this case sorted out. Tell whoever it is to go enjoy themselves..." The guard saluted again, "Yes, sir!"
The door closed and Barras was left alone with his thoughts again. His men had their role to play in the investigation as well. After all, since the base's garrison was in place to guard Hell's Garden, they couldn't effectively protect the people. He'd hoped that by granting his men a brief reprieve from their duties, their presence among the people could discourage further bloodshed until the Slasher could be caught. Again, his train of thought was derailed by a knocking at the entrance to his office! "What is it?!" Again, the same Seaman appeared, this time looking somewhat embarassed; "Sir! This recruit seems pretty determined to meet with you." The scarred swordsman's eyebrow peaked in annoyance, but he maintained his composure; "Fine, see them in." He swiveled around in his chair and looked up at the Marine Flag hanging on the wall, listening as a sound of booted foot falls sounded against the wooden floor, there was something strange about the sound of this persons steps. The door closed, and the Captain addressed his subordinate; "So, what was so important that you decided to disobey the ordered furlough I was kind enough to grant?" As he waited for this determined G-6er's answer, his cigarette continued to burn in the corner of the stern veteran's mouth.