Archive of Our Own

JAMROCK'S 41ST PRECINCT – 31st January '51. 

The light from the lamp on your maple desk is making you squint. It's the dead of night. Every colleague of yours from the C-Wing had already gone home. Only you remain, filling the papers in front of you with dense handwriting only you – and your Captain, hopefully – would find legible. 

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] – And blots of ink here and there, too. Look, they're oozing across the pages and smearing some of the words! You should be more careful. Captain Pryce wouldn't want to read something that looks like a teenager's diary.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Stop toying with the lamp's pull-cord and document the case. Then, and only then, I'll let you unwind.

ENDURANCE – Lay off a bit. He's dozing off because he's been working that goddamn report for *five* hours. Without taking any breaks.

VOLITION – The paperwork is part of his job and I'm here to make sure he does his job.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Let's face it, you dodged the bullet with the Leslie-Burke case (and the associated blackout.) You shined a light on the reality of police brutality in a way that, up to this point, had never been witnessed. Anyone other than you would've been dismissed on the spot. Count yourself lucky.

REACTION SPEED – Make a mental note of thanking Jean; he stood up to both Pryce and Berdyayeva on your behalf. Maybe buy him a beer?

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – Satellite-Officer Vicquemare doesn't drink and you know that. His doctor prescribed medication as part of his treatment program, and it is very dangerous to mix alcohol with antidepressants.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Did we hear someone mention 'unwind' and 'beer?'

VOLITION – No.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Failure] – Tsk tsk. It's one of *those* no-fun-allowed nights, isn't it? Work, work, work... Bo-o-o-oring! Are you racking your brain over those two party boys?

HALF-LIGHT [Medium: Success] – When you shrieked, 'YOU'VE BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF,' the PROPERTY DAMAGE DRUNK tried to scream—

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] – ...But the terror had stitched his lips together. You'd struck fear into the heart of that creature.

HALF-LIGHT – And then your U4-sized board smashed him across his ugly mug. *Crunch!*

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – We quite agree, Mr. Grin. Get over it. 

VOLITION – No, don't get over it. That entire ordeal was unbecoming of a lieutenant double-yefreitor such as yourself. You should strive to do good where you can and you can do *anything* you put your mind to. And you, Brainface. Talk to him when you've something useful to say.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Ugh, fine. What else were you talking about? Medication? There's Risperizole on your desk. Since there's no – sweet, sweet! – alcohol sloshing around in your bloodstream at the moment, you should take a pill.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Risperizole is a potent drug that's used to treat psychosis. Although it wasn't prescribed to you by a healthcare professional, your partner was able to obtain it – legally – a couple of weeks back.

YOU – Probably best I don't know the details of how he obtained it. (Pick up the bottle.)

ENCYCLOPEDIA – Oh, absolutely. I think it had something to do with the yammering Joopson AS catalog number J327 around your neck, but I cannot be sure.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] – Jean Vicquemare stands before Precinct 41's lazareth, Nix Gottlieb. Jean is staring out the window, arms folded.

“No.” Placing a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Nix's age-lined hands then search the pockets of his white coat and eventually emerge with a matchbox. “I'm not scribbling a prescription for the rock star, and besides, you've pulled that diagnosis out of a hat. Psychosis, was it?”

“Gottlieb,” Jean mutters, “I heard him converse with his fucking *tie.* He's losing all his marbles.”

“So?” The surgeon is unimpressed. “This is hardly the most eccentric thing Du Bois has pulled over the years.” He glances at Vicquemare. “I'm not bending the rules willy-nilly. They're there for a reason.” 

Jean places his hands on his hips. “Don't be a hypocrite.”

“I'm not a hypocrite; I simply don't care.” He strikes a spark and lights his cigarette. “Go ask your personal doctor; maybe he'll help you out.”

YOU – (Scrutinize the bottle.)

HORRIFIC NECKTIE – Screw you, smartasses. I didn't do anything!

YOU – Will this stuff make me drowsy or dizzy? I still have to drive home.

ENCYCLOPEDIA – Only antihistamines – drugs for treating allergies – produce drowsiness as a major side-effect. You're safe.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] – Are... are you sure this is right? The pill bottle is giving you the evil eye!

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – Jean worries about you. You're supposed to be better.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – It would be wise to accept your partner's judgment. Verily,  once in a while, you get the feeling he knows you better than you do.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – I'd have to agree: in Jean, you found a sympathetic soul to confess to. You told him precisely what's been bugging you. So it *is* likely that he knows what he's doing.

INLAND EMPIRE – Arghh! Run for your lives! It will kill all of us for certain— Mmmpfht!

VOLITION – Quiet! Do it, Harry. While I'm restraining this guy.

YOU – (Resolute, uncap the bottle and place a pill on the back of the tongue. Dry-swallow it.)

PERCEPTION (TASTE) [Medium: Success] – You taste charred plastic and honey. You make the most hideous grimace.

INLAND EMPIRE – YOU WILL REGRET THAT.

HORRIFIC NECKTIE – Ow! What was that for, H— NOOO! *EYYYAAAAAIIIIIEEE!*

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Wow, never heard that thing *screech* before; bet it'll stay silent from now on. Well, anyhow, as always, consult a doctor if you have any questions about dosage and length of treatment!

VOLITION – …I do not understand. Why are you of all people even concerned with his medication?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Ah, that is a question for the ages and the sages, our favorite killjoy. At any rate, we'll go catch forty winks but be warned: if you’re still here when we hit snooze, we riot.

VOLITION – Whatever. Go away.

JAMROCK'S 41ST PRECINCT – 20 minutes pass in relative peace. As you lean over your plastic-bound – and battered – ledger, the pain behind your eyes surges. A startled, hissing gasp escapes your lips. The permeables compartment taunts, belittles, and aggravates you.

1. - [EVEN: 58% || Pain Threshold – Challenging 12 || Modifiers: 0] (Do away with the migraine. Smother a yawn and blink to relieve the stinging in your eyes.)

2. - Sit and hope the migraine goes away on its own.

3. - Crack open the permeables compartment and look inside.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

SUCCEEDED

Challenging:  12

vs

Your Total: 14

—

Pain Threshold: 5

Dice: 4 + 5 = 9

Modifiers: 0

PAIN THRESHOLD [Challenging: Success] – A pounding, intense headache in one half of your skull is blurring your vision and your body isn't responding the way it should. Not for the first time. Breathe in. You've got this.

A deep breath of yours sighs across the nearly-finished paperwork. The pain abates. Rubbing the sleep from your swollen eyes, you straighten and touch a sore spot in your lower back.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Coach Physical Instrument proclaims that you need to get off your ass this instant and stretch your legs. You aren't as young as you used to be, son!

VOLITION – But! The report—

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Crownhead, don't you dare. It's past midnight. It's cold, lonely, and this dreary little place is... it's fucking dull, all right? And think of the calories! How much did he stuff down his throat today? The best way to burn fat is to undertake highly intensive aerobic exercise; otherwise, this gut isn't going away.

ENDURANCE – Agreed. Get a move on before I give you constipation.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Hello, it's me again! Did you know that the studies of recent years have shown that working over 16 hours a day is equivalent to being inebriated? I can make a joke here, but I won't. 

Suffice it to say, longer periods of continuous work drastically reduce cognitive function and increase the chance of catastrophic error. And you've not left the precinct in over 18 hours.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – I'm with Pillar-Bookhead. The report is almost done. You can finish it after you've had a good night's sleep.

YOU – (Stare at the ledger, bleary-eyed.) That part of me has got a point.

VOLITION [Impossible: Failure] – ...Fine. But I'm keeping an eye on all of you... no funny business.

YOU – (Mild rumblings cramp your stomach and every muscle in your body quivers as you rise. Tingling and numbness courses through your extremities.)

PAIN THRESHOLD [Easy: Success] – Feels like white noise.

JAMROCK'S 41ST PRECINCT – Expelling a sigh of relief, you tuck the ledger into your briefcase. Approaching the clothes rack, you snatch your wide-brimmed hat, your light-brown, wool-lined coat, and head for the exit. The keys to your Coupris '40 jangle in your pocket as you trot down the stairs. Outside, the snow is coming down in big, heavy, feathery flakes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] – Like a smattering of diamonds scattered across the black fabric, they cluster as they kiss the ground.

JAMROCK'S 41ST PRECINCT – The re-appropriated silk mill is silent except for the hum of the pendant lamps overhead and the distant chatter. Life thrums throughout the ground-floor A-Wing, B-Wing, and the Communications even now – understaffed the 41st may be, but officers and sergeants are willing to pull the night shift nevertheless.

AUTHORITY – Evil never sleeps, and neither should the detectives of the RCM. These men and women are bound by duty.

JAMROCK'S 41ST PRECINCT – You cross the precinct's small entrance vestibule. The door to the garages looms—

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Trivial: Success] – Suddenly, a shrill sound rings out in the gloom.

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Failure] – You can't help it. You leap into the air like a springbuck.

HALF-LIGHT [Formidable: Failure] – *FUCKING HELL,* what was that?!

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] – Relax, it's the RCM Emergencies Desk telephone. Someone's calling the 24/7 line. That should come to you as no surprise either; despite your best efforts, Jamrock is still more or less a hub of not-so-furtive criminal activity.

So, are you going to answer that or stand there, slack-jawed?

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] – “Hold on, need to take that,” comes a man's aristocratic baritone voice at the double doors to the A-Wing.

REACTION SPEED – ...You and I are having a talk when we get home, Harry.

YOU – I'm sleep-deprived, leave me alone.

REACTION SPEED – Sleep-deprived. Sure, pal. That *and* perpetually hungover.

YOU – Listen up, eh! I'm not h—

YVES ARDOUIN – A split second, and a tall, sleek Areopagite man in his mid-to-late thirties and Perseus Black uniform steps into the foyer. A bushy black moustache sweeps in a semicircle from above his upper lip. His dark-brown eyes bore in yours inquisitively, and he grins from ear to ear.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – In case you've forgotten, this is A-Wing's satellite-officer Yves “Razorback” Ardouin, lieutenant double-yefreitor John "Archetype" McCoy's partner. Whilst seasoned RCM veterans, both men are rightly infamous for the delight they take in gunning down felons and suspects alike – although Yves is thought of as the more reasonable of the two.

Currently, Yves has 26 'confirmed kills' perforations in his ledger, and McCoy has 54.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] – These two are a match made in heaven!

HAND/EYE COORDINATION [Medium: Failure] – A part of you wonders how did these trigger-happy cops manage to keep their jobs here.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – He's genuinely pleased to see you.

YVES ARDOUIN – “Hey, Can-Opener,” he asks, swallowing his *r's* and generally slurring his consonants, “do you mind taking that?” He gestures to the ringing telephone. 

SAVOIR FAIRE [Trivial: Success] – It is within arm's reach. You can answer that with ease.

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – Judging from his twinkling eyes, he's dying to ask you 'what are you still doing here,' but business comes first. Professional courtesy.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – This is a man who adores and respects the little nicknames everyone's earned over time. And, oh boy! You've amassed a lot of those.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – What? He's right there! He can take the call himself! Are you going to let a subordinate boss you around like that?

ESPRIT DE CORPS – Don't listen to the Laurel-Wreath; you outrank Razorback, yes, but please do not start barking orders. 

YOU – (Muster a weary smile as you pick up the telephone receiver.) “Sure thing, Razorback.” (Speak into the receiver.) “RCM Emergencies Desk, Precinct 41, good evening. How can we help you?”

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] – From the corner of your eye, you spot Yves coming closer and giving you a thumbs up.

COMPOSURE – Those aren't finger-guns, but I suppose they will have to do.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – He's approaching no doubt to eavesdrop on your conversation with the caller. 

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Formidable: Success] – You spot John McCoy dawdling in the doorway to A-Wing, coffee mug in hand. He's conspicuously not looking your way.

TELEPHONE RECEIVER – A woman's spine-tingling and rather imperious (even by your standards) voice answers, “I'll skip the small talk and get right to the point as we've not much time – I and my partner are located at Rue de Saint-Barthélemy 6A-118, Central Jamrock. We'd like to file a complaint. The couple next door – 119 – we know enough to suspect that the husband is, for lack of a better word, mistreating his wife. There's shouting and...” 

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] – I'VE BROUGHT YOU TO MY HOME BECAUSE I OWN YOU NOW! REMEMBER THAT, YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] – Your grip around the telephone receiver tightens.

HALF-LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Degenerate motherfucker...

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – Whoa, hold your horses! Let me loosen your grip so you don't snap the flimsy plastic right in front of your co-worker.

LOGIC – Stop to consider that if you do, the fee for the damages is going to be taken directly out of your paycheck.

TELEPHONE RECEIVER – A pause. You hear a deafening crash on the other end of the line. “Fuck!” the speaker yelps. “Oh, God. Send someone over. Something big just fell and shook the entire building; it's happening as we speak. We fear for that woman's life.”

YOU – (Almost instinctively, take out your ledger and crack it open.) “Thank you for bringing this to our attention. Rue de Saint-Barthélemy 6A-118, correct?”(Pat your pockets in search of a pen.)

YVES ARDOUIN – You catch sight of a hovering pen in your peripheral vision; Yves is offering you his.

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] – You accept it with a curt nod. It's an old-fashioned, engraved fountain pen. Heavy. Stainless steel. Stone-cold despite residing in Yves's breast pocket.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – Did you have to take the call? The RCM isn't paying its representatives to slack off. Reprimand him!

YOU – Not now! I'm trying to listen to what the caller has to say.

TELEPHONE RECEIVER – “Correct.”

YOU – (Jot down the address.) “And your contact name? And the names of your neighbors?”

TELEPHONE RECEIVER – “J. Klein and my partner's name is L. Langedijk. Íris lives next door with her husband Emir. I don't know their last names.”

YOU – “Thank you again, Mrs. Klein. An officer from the RCM will be with you shortly.”

TELEPHONE RECEIVER – “We'll wait for their arrival.” A click – then silence as the caller hangs up.

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – How rude! No 'please,' no 'thank you,' and she decidedly lied when talking about the victim; she called the station only because she cannot sleep with all the ruckus.

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] – As you put down the receiver, you feel oddly reinvigorated.

HALF-LIGHT – Good. I'm starting adrenaline through your system, to clear up some of the fatigue.

YVES ARDOUIN – “Another domestic violence case?” To your left, Yves lets out a whistle.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Failure] – You cannot pinpoint whether he's demoralized or fascinated.

YOU – “Yup.” (Lean against the reception counter and give Razorback his pen back.) “Here in Central Jamrock. Some piece of… work is beating his wife. The neighboring couple wants us to look into it.”

YVES ARDOUIN – He takes it. “By Dolores Dei...” His hands ball into fists at his sides. He breathes out and rubs his brow as if to ward off a headache. “Well, regardless of how I might feel about the matter, I and John should be going to check it out, huh.”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – Wait, is he seriously annoyed that such a ‘small fry case’ is distracting him from his other duties? There's an assault taking place!

YVES ARDOUIN – “Unless...” He ponders for a moment and casts a sidelong look at you. 

HALF-LIGHT – Uh oh.

YVES ARDOUIN – Brushing a speck of dust from the sleeve of his uniform, he says, “Would you do us a favor? Can you take it over for us? You've already outlined the case in your ledger and all.”

INTERFACING – That's... not untrue, actually. You indexed the case after yourself: HDB41-3101-____ (____). At this point, only the time of arrival on the scene and the case name is missing.

YOU – (Glower at your ledger and pack it up.) “And?”

YVES ARDOUIN – He flashes a mirthless smile. “Look, I'll level with you. We're—” 

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] – He means himself and McCoy.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – Sounds terrific! Don't wait for him to finish and say 'yes!' Who cares that you haven't slept in more than a day; go and make a name for yourself, trooper!

YVES ARDOUIN – “—wading through paperwork as it is, Pryce is breathing down our necks, and we cannot spare the time for this right now. This is a breach of our rules, yes, but I'd appreciate it if you could help us out. I promise to return the favor.” Yves plucks at his moustache.

AUTHORITY [Challenging: Success] – No, this is ridiculous. Put him in his place lest I do it for you.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Steer clear of this for your own good, Harry – you're dead tired and you're prone to rash action. Say you cannot do that, walk out of here, go home, and get some sleep.

1. - [VERY HIGH: 92% || Authority – Challenging 12] “That's your business. Do your job.”

2. - [LOW: 28% || Volition – Legendary 14 || Modifiers: +1] “Sorry, but I cannot keep doing favors.”

3. - [VERY LOW: 17% || Pain Threshold – Heroic 15] “Sure, I can do it.”

4. - “Exactly what kind of trouble are you and Archetype in?”

5. - Say nothing.

[CHECK FAILURE]

FAILED

Legendary:  14

vs

Your Total: 9

—

Volition: 4

Dice: 2 + 2 = 4

Modifiers: +1 (Stared down your ledger.)

VOLITION [Legendary: Failure] – You try to speak those words. But a small lump sits in your throat and a long-drawn sigh slips through your lips instead.

You *want* to undertake this case, don't you? Shit. *Shit!* It's my fault, all mine! If I were a little more proactive, I could have prevented this. The 215th perforation... it will mean nothing if you suffer cardiac arrest, don't you see?!

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] – Cardiac arrest? Bah! You can count on me; I will add the extra years you require to your life.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – Prolonged sleep deprivation does increase both food consumption and energy expenditure with a net effect of weight loss and ultimately death, but if your lower intestine is saying that everything's fine, then it is. You can trust it.

DRAMA – Hush, all, there's a fair damsel in distress who needs saving! Let us away!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – That. Or maybe you're in the mood to cave another skull with that plastic board and pass out face-first in a gutter?

VOLITION – Oh, for the love of— *NO!*

YVES ARDOUIN – He hears your resigned sigh and perks up. “So? What do you say?”

1. - [VERY HIGH: 92% || Authority – Challenging 12] “That's your business. Do your job.”

2. - [LOCKED || Volition – Legendary 14] “Sorry, but I cannot keep doing favors.”

3. - [HIGH: 72% || Pain Threshold – Heroic 15 || Modifiers: +4] “Sure, I can do it.”

4. - “Exactly what kind of trouble are you and Archetype in?”

5. - Say nothing.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

SUCCEEDED

Heroic: 15

vs

Your Total: 16

—

Pain Threshold: 5

Dice: 5 + 2 = 7

Modifiers: +3 (Volition isn't against it.) || +1 (A knight to the rescue!)

PAIN THRESHOLD [Heroic: Success] – You doff your hat and run your hand through your hair as you tell the satellite-officer you'll lend him a hand. Good job! Fatigue may be a changeless enemy, but it won't dull your keen detective senses, trooper! A nudge has done it – and off you go to save the world!

And don't torture yourself over this, Crownhead. It'll be a simple job. In and out. Arrest the husband, comfort the victim, take notes. It'll take an hour, tops.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Can't argue with that.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] – The hairs on the back of your neck rise. Wooden beams and concrete panels creak. The odor of cigarette smoke and rat droppings permeates the air. Less than a kilometer away, in Central Jamrock, a dilapidated eight-story apartment building is swaying gently in the blizzard, unperturbed.

YOU – Wait, swaying gently? What do you mean?

INLAND EMPIRE [Trivial: Success] – Warn them. Before it's too late.

SHIVERS – The feeling passes, but far too quickly for your liking.

YOU – Huh...

YVES ARDOUIN – A grin lights up Razorback's face. “You will? Thanks! If Pryce asks, tell him that you had to take the case as we weren't available, all right?”

JOHN MCCOY – “Is that right? Du Bois can take care of this bullshit?” At long last, the 40-year-old lieutenant double-yefreitor John McCoy deigns to come closer, sipping out of his coffee mug. A robust, intimidating man in a leather jacket, blood-red shirt, and close-fitting jeans with holes in the knees, he—

LOGIC [Legendary: Failure] – Er, why is he even *wearing* those? It's -18°C centigrade outside.

COMPOSURE – Because they're *stylish,* Puzzle Face. 

JOHN MCCOY – ...Is the epitome of a casual, laid-back cop with an itchy trigger finger, 15 years of service, and 198 cases solved. You and he do not see eye to eye, but you hold him in high esteem nonetheless. He gives you a two-finger salute.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – Half-brothers of the same rank will possess at least a modicum of respect for one another forevermore. Nonetheless, you now remember why you don't like McCoy: he is renowned to have participated in Dolorian Church raids all over Revachol.

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] – He *was* with McCoy, you misshapen dunces! Along with the other officers from the 98th and 30th!

ESPRIT DE CORPS – Oh. Oops.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – Your face betrays no emotion. What's more, you even managed to stop The Expression from happening.

YOU – “I wouldn't call domestic violence 'bullshit,' McCoy, but yes, I can take care of it.” (Glance outside.) “I should get going. Time is of the essence here.”

JOHN MCCOY – The other double-yefreitor nods. “Right.” He motions with his coffee cup. “Though, wait just a sec; I wanna give you something. As my thanks, in advance.” Without waiting for your answer, he twists around, crosses the lobby, and vanishes behind the doors leading to the A-Wing. You hear him stomping away.

YOU – (Give Razorback a look of suspicion.)

YVES ARDOUIN – He lifts his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Easy: Success] – *Sniff.* We sense within him a kindred sou—

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – No. Crawl back into the pit from which you emerged.

JOHN MCCOY – After no more than thirty seconds, John returns, without his mug, holding a—

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – ...hahaHAhahaHAHA! Who'd have thought? Looks like the boy loves playing with fire. This is so good it's bringing a tear to our only eye.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Formidable: Success] – John's holding a six-pack of Potent Pilsner. Judging from the thin icy crust encasing the cans, he's just removed them from the kitchen freezer.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Trivial: Success] – All four wings of Precinct 41 share a common dining-hall area.

JOHN MCCOY – “Catch!” He unhooks, or rather, pries a can and tosses it your way.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Eyes on the prize!

1. - [EVEN: 58% || Hand/Eye Coordination – Easy 9 || Modifiers: +2] Catch the can.

2. - [LOW: 28% || Volition – Medium 11 || Modifiers: -2] Let it fall to the floor.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

SUCCEEDED

Medium: 9

vs

Your Total: 10

—

Hand/Eye Coordination: 1

Dice: 6 + 1 = 7

Modifiers: +2 (Sober.)

HAND/EYE COORDINATION [Easy: Success] – Your anticipatory reflexes are unmatched, and you snag the ice-cold can out of the air with the finesse of a... well, a high-school gym teacher. You turn it over in your hands, examining the oh-so-familiar brown-and-orange logo.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – There, you obliged them. Now go, do your job, and don't even *THINK* about drinking. When they're out of earshot, throw it away.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – One can assume the husband is an alcoholic too, so showing up reeking of booze would be rankly inappropriate and you won't extract much out of the wife then. You realize that.

VOLITION – Well said, Feelings-Jam. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – You think he'll heed your words? Such aggressive and misplaced optimism, Crownhead. You're fraying at the seams.

YVES ARDOUIN – Beside you, Razorback shifts from foot to foot. “Are you sure it's a good idea,  Archetype? You've heard how he handled THE UNSOLVABLE CASE, haven't you?”

JOHN MCCOY – “Who hasn't? Our local legend Du Bois has been the talk of the precinct for two days now. Blood, snot, crushed kneecaps...” He leers at you with a lopsided smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I'm not judging; those clowns had it coming. What I am saying is that there's no harm in 330 milliliters of Pilsner, right? To commend the badass motherfucker before us?” He points at the beer in your hand.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – Don't be fooled. He knows you’ve got an alcohol problem.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – Everybody at the 41st knows you’ve got an alcohol problem.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – He knows alcohol makes you more fun to have around!

AUTHORITY [Legendary: Success] – Okay, this perverted, 'you're so cool!' machismo horseshit needs to stop. Time to draw a line in the sand, detective. Not only they dumped *their* case upon you, but they've smuggled *liquor* into the precinct as well. This kind of misconduct would be enough to make Ptolemaios's late father roll over in his grave!

Had you not declined that promotion three months ago, you'd now be able to order them to get back to work... But no matter, you shall have to do this the hard way. Speak your mind. Admonish them.

HALF-LIGHT [Medium: Success] – And while you're at it, threaten them.

YOU – (Start tapping your foot.) “Look, fellas. I have no time to stand around all night with my dick out. Sing elsewhere your 'praises,' but I've work to do.” (Wring The Expression into a snarl.) “All *three* of us have work to do. So let's concentrate on that and I won't rat you out to our Captain, all right?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – *And* this dumb brand produces watered-down beer!

VOLITION – Oh, do shut up, you cretin!

YVES ARDOUIN – Beads of sweat break out on his forehead, and he glances at Archetype.

JOHN MCCOY – The other double-yefreitor's reaction is more subdued than his partner's: he arches a critical eyebrow at you and purses his lips. There is a brief, thoughtful silence as he considers the matter.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – Then he decides to capitulate. 

JOHN MCCOY – John sighs and runs fingers through his hair. “Right. I mustn't distract you from your duties. As for ourselves, yes... That mountain of paperwork beckons.” Throwing the bundle of beers over his shoulder, he struts off. “Let's go, Yves. We shouldn't leave it unattended and there are deadlines we must meet.”

YVES ARDOUIN – As John vanishes from sight, Razorback wipes his face with his sleeve. He looks shaken to his core. “Please excuse Archetype's behavior – I had no idea about his booze, I swear!”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – He speaketh the truth!

YVES ARDOUIN – “Please, whatever you do, don't tell Pryce. He has enough on his plate as it is.”

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] – That's politely worded for 'Pryce has a reputation of the RCM to protect so let's not make his job more difficult.' Emphasis on 'let's not.'

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] – I was wrong. I'm sorry; these two aren't like two peas in a pod. Yves looks genuinely forlorn and miserable.

YOU – (Nod.) “Okay. You're a good man, so you have my word. But now I really need to go.” (Put on your hat, start walking toward the garages.)

YVES ARDOUIN – “Thanks!” His relief is palpable. “And good luck. Give my regards to Vic when you see him.” He heaves a small sigh and sets after his partner.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – One kilometer from Precinct 41, in a cluttered, splattered from floor-to-ceiling with salmon-pink tiles apartment, Jean Vicquemare grumbles in his sleep and turns to his side. Marbled, fluorescent light is seeping through the curtains.

YOU – (Tenderly, over your shoulder.) “I hope I will not have to tonight; kid's had a rough few days and I'd rather let him rest.” 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Eh he hehehe, for sure. But you're clutching that can a tad too firmly, buddy. Something on your mind?

YOU – No. 

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – You keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

YOU – [Leave.]

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING IN CENTRAL JAMROCK – It's almost one in the morning when you park your motor carriage, switch off the engine, and drop the intact Pilsner can in the back seat. Ancient, run-down, graffito-covered tenements shape Rue de Saint-Barthélemy – and they seem to go on forever. Rats scuttle about. The stench of excrement and decay tickles your nostrils.

The less than opulent side of Central Jamrock. A grungy slum with a picturesque view of the man-made Lac de Camteaux.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Heroic: Failure] – The contrast's so perplexing, you don't even have a metaphor for it.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – Dress up, detective. You'll need it for what comes next.

YOU – (Change into the Perseus Black uniform you keep in your MC's trunk and venture forth.)

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING, INSIDE – On the inside, the tenement has the same ruinous and dilapidated appearance: peeling-off plaster, withered hyacinths on the windowsill, food waste, and vermin. You call the elevator. A doped-up teenager lounges beside it and pays you no heed. A woman with oily hair and dark circles under her eyes stands close to you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] – The punk's high as a kite – you'll have to scrape him off the concrete if you wanna talk to him. Our money's on B-hydroxy-phenothiazine. Serious stuff, even by our standards. Ooooh... We shudder at the memory.

VOLITION [Trivial: Success] – You're not here for that. Moving on.

EMPATHY – What? You're not just going to leave him like that?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – There is nothing you can do. Trust us – we're the experts.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] – Anxiety begins to build in the pit of your stomach as you wait.

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING, INSIDE – The elevator arrives. You and the girl climb in. You press a dented, rusted button, and the elevator begins its ascent.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] – A cornered mechanical monstrosity shifting back to life, its breath labored. It seeks a way to escape this place.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) – 'Labored' would be an understatement. It groans, creaks, rasps as gears grind and cables strain.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Easy: Success] – The cacophony is pummeling your eardrums into a pulp. Eh, no biggie. You've had worse times.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Elevator rides shouldn't be *this* noisy. Something is not right.

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING, INSIDE – The doors open with a shudder, and you find yourself standing on the 8th-floor landing. It's grimy. And cold. And eerily silent save for the irregular hum of a flickering, embedded in the ceiling light bulb. The elevator takes the girl elsewhere. Flat 120 lies at the far end of the landing. Flats 118 and 119, side by side. The couple that called and the apartment you got the call to. Your gaze darts between them.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – First, introduce yourself to the people who placed the call. Appeal to them. They'll tell you more about what needs to be done.

YOU – (Jot down the time of your arrival in the ledger: 00:58. Knock on the 118 door.)

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING, INSIDE – Despite your earlier reservations, the couple –  Jacqueline Klein and Laurens Langedijk – prove to be ready to cooperate. They fill you in on what's been happening, and, just as you've expected, Íris and her alcoholic-of-a-husband Emir have been quarreling over the last several months. Quarrels turned to beatings, and as far as Jacqueline could tell, Íris wasn't fighting back (which only exacerbated the problem).

You leave apartment 118 and knock on the door right next to it – 119. 

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Challenging: Success] – You hear footsteps on the other side.

SAVOIR FAIRE [Easy: Success] – Not heavy thumps of a man. These footsteps in all probability belong to the wife – Íris.

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – The door opens a crack, and a malnourished woman in nightgown peers out. Her ethereal, alabaster-white skin is scratched, swollen, and a bruise the size of a fist blots out her left eye. Like a caged animal, she examines you from head to toe several times. “Sorry, I didn't—” she blubbers. “I thought you were... C-Can I help you?” She rakes her fingers through her long, glossy, golden-brown hair.

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] – Nothing life-threatening, but it is evident from a mere glance that she's been playing the punching bag for *weeks* now.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] – An angel's wounds crawl with a black, spectral radiance.

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] – She was anticipating someone else. Her partner?

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Id est, the husband has already vacated these premises.

HALF-LIGHT – Bummer. And here you were looking forward to a fist-fight, to making him dead and done... Ah well, you cannot have everything.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – She's eyeing the halogen rectangle on your sleeve. Time to plunge headfirst into the fray! Straight to the point!

EMPATHY [Legendary: Failure] – Um. Shouldn't you first express your sympa—

YOU – “Lieutenant Du Bois, RCM.” (Take out and flash your badge.) “You're Íris, correct? Your neighbors have asked us to investigate the... commotion at your flat.”

EMPATHY – ...Never mind.

AUTHORITY – Stow it. That worked out.

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – She drags her thumb on her busted upper lip and flinches. “That's one way to put it, officer.” There's no malice or hatred in her voice. “You need to see my husband then, although where he went I have no idea.”

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – The truth. She gains nothing by lying, and she knows that as well as you. You have the damning evidence right here.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] – Taking into account the fact she hasn't slammed the door in your face, chances are you're dealing with someone who believes in your jurisdiction.

YOU – Good. Small victories like these are few and far between as they are.

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “He's probably drinking hard and laying easy, but he'll turn up. Eventually. He always does.” She clears her throat. “Can you come back in the morning? Or in two days' time?”

VOLITION [Trivial: Success] – That's a negative. Commit this case to paper.

YOU – (Hold up your ledger.) “I have to obey proper protocol, ma'am. You're the victim, as well as the witness to these events, and they need to be recorded.”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – She hesitates and shoots a questioning glance at the wall-mounted clock inside: 01:05. Then her voice drops to a whisper. “Okay then. Come on in.” She opens the door.

YOU – (Go inside.)

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – Playing the friendly host, she leads you into the kitchen and brews two cups of bargain-priced instant coffee. She clutches her cup with both hands as she recounts her story to you, a complete stranger.

YOU – (Listen intently, swirling and sipping on your coffee and taking notes. Routine. You've done this a thousand times before.) “So, if I've understood you correctly, ma'am, your abusive husband is paying for all of your purchases. You leave him, and you risk becoming a penniless pauper.”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “Emir likes to call us 'a financial unit.' I asked him if we could come to some sort of financial arrangement that'd benefit us both, but his response was pretty clear.”

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] – Alas, many women are habitually bullied and beaten into submission. You would save them all if you could.

YOU – “Why haven't you approached the RCM? We could have helped you.”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “Quite frankly, officer, I don't know. I'm no saint, either – perhaps I'm getting what I justly deserve?” She surveys her tiny, ramshackle kitchen. “Besides, I have nowhere else to go and Jamrock is one of the better parts of the city. It's a beautiful life in this beautiful tenement.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] – Oh, good grief. She *must* be kidding.

YOU – (Gulp the last of your coffee. Rip out a piece of paper out of your ledger and scrawl the RCM Emergencies Desk telephone number as well as your name.) “Íris. Ma'am. I'd ask you to come to Precinct 41 first thing in the morning. Ask for me there and we'll make sure your husband is brought to justice. We'll settle this mess.” (Offer it to her.)

EMPATHY [Medium: Failure] – I would've phrased that a tad more delicately, but what do I know.

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] – Uhh...

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “You don't understand. This is a private struggle...” She collects the slip and spends several seconds in contemplation.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] – Despite your brusque manner, you're getting to her. Somehow. Keep it up.

YOU – “The precinct's clearance rate is abysmal, yes, but have no doubt, we're doing our best to aid those in need. And to do that, those in need *have* to come to us. There is no other way.”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – Her one intact eye meets yours. She grows more pensive.

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] – Uh-oh. Probably shouldn't have mentioned the clearance rate there. 

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – While she gives the appearance of her poised, bold self—

EMPATHY – Palpable uncertainty washes over her, nonetheless.

ENDURANCE [Easy: Success] – Um?

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] – Don't panic. Not all is lost. She's just taking a moment to consider the pros and cons of your offer. To her, this is a matter of life and death.

Tell you what: excuse yourself for a minute or two. Give Íris her privacy. Let her ferment and stew.  By the time you return, she will have made up her mind. 100% guarantee! 

SHIVERS [Formidable: Success] – A gust of wind whips at the kitchen window, making the glass jangle in its wooden frame. Cold nips at your neck; it blankets your skin in goosebumps.

GET OUT.

YOU – 'Get out?' La Revacholière, what is that about? (Shudder.)

SHIVERS – The wind becomes a droning, unsettling moan beyond the walls before the city can respond.

ENDURANCE [Trivial: Success] – Did the Charmer say 'take a break?' Yes! Finally! Appreciate some quality time in the privy because it's getting rather *full* down here.

YOU – Seriously? I'm in the middle of something! The city—

ENDURANCE – Brother, blame the pigswill you just drank. It's wreaking havoc on your gastrointestinal tract. Why do you think she hasn't touched her cup?

HALF-LIGHT [Medium: Success] – Poison?!

ENDURANCE – No, no, no. It's the preservatives and chemicals and flavor enhancers, all that jazz. The stuff of legend. Now get going before I unleash the *gases.*

YOU – (Sigh.) “Excuse me, is it possible to use the restroom?”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “Hm?” She snaps out of her reverie. “Yes, of course. Leave the kitchen and take the second door on your left.”

YOU – “Thank you.” (Go into the bathroom.)

THE VICTIM'S BATHROOM – It's a drab and dingy area – like the rest of the tenement – but it serves its purpose. But... *one* thing weighs on your mind. It is most disconcerting.

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Trivial: Success] – It is by far the coldest room in the entire apartment. You turn on the faucet and plunge your hands under the scalding-hot water. Much better.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Ask yourself: why is it so cold?

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Challenging: Success] – This place is a tomb of poverty and strife. The half-dead dregs of society have made it their home.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] – Invisible hands card through your hair and rub the tension out of your uniform-clad shoulders. You feel a tingling sensation at the base of your skull.

INLAND EMPIRE – La Revacholière warrants your attention.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – The city? Nonsense. The city cannot call for you while you're indoors.

INLAND EMPIRE – Really? Are you quite sure?

1. - [VERY HIGH: 92% || Shivers – Medium 11 || Modifiers: -1] (Listen to La Revacholière.)

2. - Shake off the feeling of wrongness.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

SUCCEEDED

Medium: 11

vs

Your Total: 17

—

Shivers: 8

Dice: 4 + 6 = 10

Modifiers: +1 (Inland wants you to listen.) || -1 (Indoors.) || -1 (Logic called it nonsense.)

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] – OFFICER OF THE CITIZENS MILITIA. BELOW THE SINK. 

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – There's a dull, constricting throb in your throat. It's suffocating you. After taking several deep breaths to steel yourself, you crouch and stare into the gloom below the sink.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Trivial: Success] – And there it is. A crack in the wall. Three, possibly four, millimeters wide. Running up all the way from the floor.

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] – You trace your fingers along the chipped brickwork. The cold air is seeping through this crack. It greets you like an old friend.

LOGIC –  ...Well, I'll be damned.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] – Wait a second, isn't that a load-bearing wall?

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] – These particular tenement houses were built between '64 – '78 of the Previous Century and feature two main load-bearing points: the central core and the outside perimeter columns. It's called framed-tube design. The thick, heavy masonry disguises the outside steel I-beams and redistributes some of the weight. A comparatively lightweight structure which, unfortunately, isn't very fireproof as all other walls are made out of gypsum plasterboard. 

In short, it is. A crack like that drastically reduces the load-bearing capability of the entire structure. If necking (a.k.a. deformation) has also occurred in the steel I-beams... Uh, yeah.

You know this because you've taken building safety regulation courses offered by the RCM.

YOU – (Say it out loud.) “Fuck.”

VISUAL CALCULUS – Detective. Best not to ponder the implications without knowing the full picture. First, assess the situation from the outside. Alternatively, you can run a few 'tests' while inside.

YOU – No. No time for that. If what I think is happening *is* happening, I need to get out of here, first and foremost. Then I must inform the residents of this tenement – and the captain! – of what must be done.

VISUAL CALCULUS – Fair point. Lead on.

PAIN THRESHOLD – So much for that short and simple case, eh, Harry? You're a real glutton for punishment, and I *love* that!

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!

YOU – (Leave the bathroom.)

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – The woman is waiting for you, perched on the corner of the kitchen table with her arms crossed and the piece of paper clenched in her fist. Upon spotting you, she leaps down. “I've given what you said some thought, officer, and I'd like to—”

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Failure] – Your stomach is roiling, your heart is racing, you're staggering on wobbly legs. God, you're freaking out, aren't you? 

YOU – (Avoid her gaze and gulp.) “I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have urgent obligations elsewhere.” (Pause.) “Um, actually, do me a favor. If that's not too difficult, could you gather your papers, money, warm clothes and meet me outside in ten minutes? It's important.”

SUGGESTION – Wh... What's going on? What was *that?* You sounded like a crass creep who'd rob her at gunpoint the moment she steps outside!

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – To be frank, the lady seems impressionable enough; she'll believe anything, so long as it is theatrically sincere.

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “What?” She's taken aback. “What are you saying?”

YOU – “There's a crack in the load-bearing wall of your bathroom.”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “Oh.” Her eyebrows draw together. “Oh, that has been there for some time. We'll have it mended as soon as possible— Ah, n-never mind...” She breathes a sigh.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] – That 'as soon as possible' won't happen with her husband around and she hates it.

YOU – (Be blunt.) “Ma'am, whether you believe me or not, I'm almost certain you're in mortal danger. You have to leave. But I'm not asking you this as a policeman; I'm offering you the chance to make your own decisions, your own choices.”

DRAMA – That sounded sufficiently vague and ominous. Nice! Now exit stage left without uttering another word. She will be most pleased with your performance.

YOU – (Leave the frightened, confused woman alone and go outside.)

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING IN CENTRAL JAMROCK – With your every sharp and shallow intake of breath showing up as a plume of steam, you circle the building. Snow falls in lazy, fat flakes. You throw back your head, and they glue to your clothes and mutton-chops.

1. - Inspect the weakened wall.

2. - [VERY LOW: 8% || Visual Calculus – Impossible 18 || Modifiers: -1] (Assess the damage. Construct and foresee all possible outcomes.)

[CHECK FAILURE]

FAILED

Impossible: 18

vs

Your Total: 13

—

Visual Calculus: 7

Dice: 2 + 5 = 7

Modifiers:  +2 (The noisy elevator ride.) || -1 (Snowing.) || -2 (It's too dark to see.)

VISUAL CALCULUS [Impossible: Failure] – Try as you might, you cannot envision it. There should be a crack in the façade, right? Or was it the sidewall? The surrounding blackness has you at a disadvantage.

Say, wasn't there a standard-issue flashlight in your MC? Fetch it and then come back. The wall is not going anywhere, I suspect.

INLAND EMPIRE – Oh, it's going somewhere. It's going somewhere posthaste.

YOU – (Slap your cheek and go fetch the flashlight.)

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING IN CENTRAL JAMROCK – The trip back to your Coupris is uneventful. The tenement waits patiently for your return.

1. - Inspect the weakened wall.

2. - [LOW: 28% || Visual Calculus – Impossible 18 || Modifiers: +1] (Assess the damage. Construct and foresee all possible outcomes.)

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING IN CENTRAL JAMROCK – You wave your police flashlight in an arc above your head. After several moments of searching, something glints in its beam. Your attention is caught.

There. The crack. A bolt of lightning that has scarred the entire wall from the original foundation stones. Although patched and mended in places, the fact remains: this tenement's structural integrity is compromised.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] – Mended? Right. This is like sticking a band-aid over an open fracture.

1. - Inspect the weakened wall.

2. - [HIGH: 72% || Visual Calculus – Impossible 18 || Modifiers: +4 (Assess the damage. Construct and foresee all possible outcomes.)

[CHECK SUCCESS]

SUCCEEDED

Impossible: 18

vs

Your Total: 20

—

Visual Calculus: 7

Dice: 6 + 3 = 9

Modifiers: +3 (Found the crack.) || +2 (The noisy elevator ride.) || -1 (Snowing.)

VISUAL CALCULUS [Impossible: Success] – The damage is irreparable, you can see it now. Other hairline cracks are everywhere, and those hairline cracks could develop into ruptures at any time. Their presence has led to the deformation of the northeastern support structures, making the whole building tilt by almost 2°. That explains the unusually noisy elevator ride.

YOU – What are the odds of the supports failing?

VISUAL CALCULUS – Overwhelming. Close to 100%.

YOU – How will it collapse?

VISUAL CALCULUS – Foundation. When the stress exceeds the threshold of fatigue limit, it'll fail and the upper floors will pancake the lower.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] – Fatigue is the development and propagation of cracks in a material that is subjected to alternating or fluctuating cycles of load.

YOU – How did this happen?

VISUAL CALCULUS – Unknown. I suspect the building’s age is to blame.

YOU – How much time do I have?

VISUAL CALCULUS – No precise estimate. Cracks grow faster in a humid environment and this winter has been dry, but even then, with that tilt, I estimate you have days at most. Maybe hours?

YOU – How many people occupy this tenement?

VISUAL CALCULUS – Eight stories. Three apartments per landing. Five entrances. 120 apartments in the entire building. If I presume two people per apartment, then over 200.

HALF-LIGHT [Godly: Failure] – 200? Oh, *fuck no*. Throw in the towel and get out of here, Harry.

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] – And leave these innocents to their fate? Even you are not that heartless.

HALF-LIGHT – Then what do you suggest that we do? Bang on *every* door and evict *every* single person who hangs their hat here?

EMPATHY – Revachol has no municipal government. You have only one option left: you have to be the one to warn these people. If you do not do this, then no one shall.

ENDURANCE – Khm, I do hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this body won't function on pure adrenaline alone much longer.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Listen, buddy, I've got the solution to all of life's problems: SPEED. The most rapid and powerful stimulant known to man!

VOLITION – Oh, no no no. You're *not* getting high again.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Why not? It'll get the job done and it's exactly one sniff away! Or would you rather let all these people die an excruciatingly painful death when the building comes down?

REACTION SPEED – No, this will not do at all!

LOGIC – Your parasympathetic nervous system does have a point.

INLAND EMPIRE – The people haunt your mind's eye. Who’d be the first to die? The woman who was with you in the elevator? The junkie? Íris? Will there be any survivors? The dead will come for you in your nightmares if you do not help.

VOLITION – Are you kidding me?! Why are you siding with it?! Do you not remember what kind of trouble we got ourselves into *TWO FUCKING DAYS AGO?* We almost lost our *job!*

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Details, details, our beloved party pooper. We're merely pointing out that he keeps a secret stash of amphetamines in his MC and that— Hey, and that can of Pilsner is still there too—

VOLITION – *ENOUGH!*

YOU – Right, pipe down. Before I do anything rash, I think I know what I want right now. I need to call the station. I require Jean's expertise.

VOLITION – I… Consult Jean? Okay. Okay! Sounds good to me! I knew you would not let me down, Harry.

YOU – (Rush back to your MC and pick up the radio. Push the green button tagged 'PRIMELINE.')

YOUR COUPRIS '40 – The radio buzzes, and seconds later the hoarse voice of Precinct 41's Communications Officer Jules "Oldboy" Pidieu crackles through the static. It is not unwelcome but is unexpected.

JULES PIDIEU – “10-2 (Receiving well), 10-5 (Relay message). This is 41st. Over."

YOU – “10-4 (Message received). Oldboy? I thought you retired for the night like all the rest. Are you still working? Over.”

JULES PIDIEU – “Affirmative, lieutenant Du Bois. I've been finding sleep elusive as of late, so I figured I'd stay and help. Doesn't mean that I'm not looking forward to a well-earned rest.” He chortles. “In any case, a certain someone from the A-Wing has told me what happened and I was expecting your call. Is it a 10-22 (Cancel your present assignment)? Over.”

YOU – “10-10 (Negative). The situation has escalated somewhat. It's hard to explain so you'll have to trust me. It's Code 2 (Request for backup), for sure, so can you please connect me to Jean? Over.”

JULES PIDIEU – “10-4.” You hear the clacking of a typewriter. “You wish to follow up on Code 2 through Satellite-Officer Vicquemare? Over.”

YOU – “10-4. Over.”

JULES PIDIEU – “10-12 (Stand by) while I get him on the line. Over.”

YOU – “Thanks, Jules.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] – You can feel his faint smile.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – This was perhaps the least abnormal exchange between you and the Communications Officer in... forever.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – You've done well. I am proud of you.

YOUR COUPRIS '40 – The radio falls silent. Clenching your hands into fists to conserve warmth, you climb into the MC, recline in the driver's seat, and bore a reflective hole in the dashboard.

Waiting...

Waiting...

You've waited for a few minutes by now. To pass time faster, you yank out your ledger and start logging the case. The words "COLLAPSING TENEMENT" appear next to the time of your arrival. 

Finally, from the depths of radio static, the thick, gravelly voice of your partner emerges. 

JEAN VICQUEMARE – “Ugh, host in heaven...” He is slurring his words as if he's just woken up after decades of slumber. “It's two in the morning. You better have a good goddamn reason for waking me up, s— Harry.”

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] – That 'shitkid' is lingering on the tip of his tongue. That's his de facto name for you these days.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Ah! *Technically,* it was Oldboy who woke him up.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] – This is the first time you've talked to Jean since THE UNSOLVABLE CASE debacle – which, by your standards, is a long time – so please, in the name of Dolores Dei, do not greet him with 'Sunrise Parabellum, I've got a case that'll blow your mind!' Go with something more dignified, superstar.

VOLITION – Yes. This is no time for jokes.

YOU – “Morning, Vic, and yes, I do have a reason; I would not bother you with nonsense. I've been assigned a domestic trouble task and it turned out to be more complicated than I expected. So I would appreciate the company.”

JEAN VICQUEMARE – He breathes out in an exaggerated huff. “Let me guess, you've stumbled upon something big. So big, in fact, that it cannot wait till morning?”

YOU – “You know me all too well, partner. But – yes. If we do not act then over 200 people will lose their lives.”

JEAN VICQUEMARE – That renders him speechless for several seconds. “What?! Are there hostages?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – 1.8 kilometers from your present location, your partner presses a fist to his mouth. His wide-eyed, wandering gaze doesn’t settle.

YOU – “Something like that, but the perp isn't someone we can apprehend and interrogate back at the station... Look, come to Rue de Saint-Barthélemy 6A here in Central and I'll explain everything. Oh, and this isn't a two-man job – if you could get some reinforcements that'd be fantastic. I won't be able to do that myself since I'll be trying to reach the Captain in the meantime.”

JEAN VICQUEMARE – The satellite-officer stutters.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Struggling to find the right words.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] – A squeak of the mattress.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – “Shit, Harry, I haven't heard you be this somber for quite some time. Whatever this is, it must be super important then.”

YOU – (Morosely.) “Very.” (Pause to take a breath.) “I'm making amends for my earlier behavior, for that Burke and Leslie case. Speaking of which... thanks for bailing me out, by the way. In truth, I do not deserve you as my—”

JEAN VICQUEMARE – “Shut up, you.” The fondness in his tone is unmistakable. “Concerning reinforcements: how many we'll need?”

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] – 'We'll need.' That makes your stomach flutter.

YOU – (Toss a glance over your shoulder at the tenement.)

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] – There's a lot of ground to cover, so... four-five?

AUTHORITY [Legendary: Success] – Five is good. They'll be sending the message while you and Vicquemare – as the highest-ranking officers of the lot – round up those who comply... and those who don't.

HALF-LIGHT [Legendary: Failure] – Ugh. This is gonna suck.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – Everything will be fine. You have this under control.

YOU – “Five should be enough.”

JEAN VICQUEMARE – “Okay, I'll see what I can do. ETA: 40-50 minutes.”

YOU – “Thanks, Vic. Tell me: what would I do without you?”

JEAN VICQUEMARE – “Die? Put into the drunk tank or the loony bin? God, I don't fucking know.” A soft laugh escapes your partner's throat. “Take care, Mullen. Expect me to arrive shortly.” He disconnects with a click.

JULES PIDIEU – The voice of the Communications Officer once more fills your MC. “10-2. Is there anything else I can help you with, lieutenant-yefreitor? Over.”

YOU – “Yes. Patch me through to Captain Pryce.”

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING IN CENTRAL JAMROCK – It takes about an hour for Jean and the others to arrive. You while away the time as best as you can. 

YOU – “I'm glad you're all here.”

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) – The satellite-officer was as good as his word: five of your colleagues stand before you, spines straight as pencils. All familiar faces, as well.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – ...What did he have to *do* to get Torson and McLaine to turn up in their actual uniforms? Do they owe him money or something? Émile Mollins and Chad Tillbrook have come, too – both are resourceful so they'll manage just fine. But why is Guillaume Bevy here? He's a reporter for Channel 8, not a police officer!

LOGIC [Medium: Success] – Judging by the camera, several metal-capped ampoules, and the mane of blond hair that's groomed to perfection, he truly is here as a reporter and not a police officer.

HALF-LIGHT [Legendary: Failure] – Fucking hell. Tonight will be hitting the headlines, won't it?!

ESPRIT DE CORPS – Hm. But at least the rookie – Judit Minot, was it? – is here. Good. What is about to happen will test her mettle.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – With his hands jabbed into the pockets of his trench coat, your partner inspects his surroundings. “This neighborhood has gone to the dogs. A pity,” he mumbles under his breath and regards you. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, but his expression is one of a grim yet optimistic determination. “So, Harry, what happened? You said it was an emergency?”

RHETORIC – All right. Here goes nothing.

SUGGESTION – Go! I've got your back!

YOU – (Clear your throat and address everyone.) “Gentlemen. Judit. Allow me to brief you: this tenement – Saint-Barthélemy 6A – is structurally unsound and can collapse at any moment. The damage is irreparable. There are over 200 residents in there, but no one will break the news. It is up to the RCM to inform everyone and evacuate them before it comes down. Any questions?”

SUGGESTION – Beautiful!

CHESTER MCLAINE – The large bubble he's been working on bursts, smearing half of his face in chewing gum. He's suitably mortified.

MACK TORSON – He tries to conceal his partner's embarrassment by having a coughing fit. 

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Jean stares at them, poker-faced. His eyes dart to meet yours.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Fucking imbeciles. But I couldn't afford to be choosy.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] – He's fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

JUDIT MINOT – “Collapse at any moment?” the rookie echoes, giving the apartment building a half-spooked look. “Are you certain, lieutenant-yefreitor?”

YOU – “Unfortunately, yes.” (Gesture to the cracked wall.) “I've already communicated everything to the Captain – we'll relocate the residents as they are evacuated.”

GUILLAUME BEVY – “How exciting!” The reporter hops toward the wall, camera raised. In its depths, it chirrups and whirrs, ready to take a photo. ”But to evacuate *everyone?* Are you qualified to make this decision, Du Bois?”

YOU – “Again, unfortunately, yes. I can give you the long version of what's happening, but time is of the essence as you might imagine.”

JEAN VICQUEMARE – He watches Bevy like a hawk for a few seconds. “He is,” he says in a  somewhat indignant tone. “He took building safety courses a couple of months ago. He's a lieutenant double-yefreitor to boot, for God's sake.”

GUILLAUME BEVY – He raises an eyebrow in challenge.

TORSON, MCLAINE, MOLLINS, TILLBROOK – All four men exchange glances.

COMPOSURE [Trivial: Success] – Their postures stiffen then droop. You don't have to be a brainiac to understand they're recalling the details of the Leslie-Burke case.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] – Oh no. Jean's doing the thing again. You know, the 'I-shall-defend-everything-you-say-or-do' thing. His own Empathy is getting the better of him.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] – He may not show it, but THE UNSOLVABLE CASE had scarred and twisted him. His trust in your inveterate professionalism is shaken. He can bear physical wounds, but emotional?

Can you, Harry?

DRAMA [Medium: Success] – If *only* the ground could swallow you whole!

REACTION SPEED [Challenging: Failure] – Uh... Sorry, but no. All is dark. You cannot think of a snappy comeback.

YOU – (Say nothing. Pull your RCM cap over your eyes.)

JEAN VICQUEMARE – He takes notice.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] – He's not realizing his Empathy is shepherding him, is he?

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] – Sensing your discomfort, he resolves to redirect the squad's attention.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – “All right, you've heard him.” He steps forward and points a finger at the defaced high-rise. “Let's get this done before this damn thing crumbles into pieces—”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “Wait! RCM! L-Lieutenant Du Bois! I'm here— I'm here!”

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) – Diving into a coat and zipping it on the way, Íris from apartment 119 runs out into the cold, brisk night. Plastic 'Frittte' bags and are clutched in her hands. A small suitcase drags after her. She stops before you and the team, chest heaving up and down. Her one uninjured eye blazes with a winking light.

DRAMA – Oooooooh! My lady, thou hadst come!

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Your partner flinches as he observes the woman's many bruises.

YOU – (Promptly, to the squad.) “Mrs. Íris is one of the tenants and the reason I was in the area in the first place.” (To her.) “Hello again, ma'am.”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – “I saw the motor carriages out the window.” Her jaw is set. “Are you really evacuating us?”

YOU – “We are. This place is a ticking bomb.”

ÍRIS THE VICTIM – She nods. “You were too cryptic for my tastes, but you weren't flippant or lacking in sincerity, and that is what counts most. If the building’s going down then I'll wait outside, thank you very much.”

YOU – “I'm grateful for your cooperation. You can wait in my MC if you wish – the first bus should arrive in 25 minutes.” (Elbow Jean in the ribs.) “One down, 199 to go, eh?”

JEAN VICQUEMARE – He rolls his eyes and flashes a lopsided half-smile. “You aren’t without a sense of humor after all.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offers you one.

EIGHT-STORY APARTMENT BUILDING IN CENTRAL JAMROCK – Both of you watch as the patrol officers (and Bevy) vanish into the apartment complex. Soon after, the shouting starts. You can't help but fidget.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – He douses his cigarette and pats you on the shoulder. “Showtime.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Trivial: Success] – The satellite-officer is quite pleased with the efforts you're making. He's once more proud to be your partner.

Make sure you don't lose him. You'll not find another like him.

YOU – Don't worry. I won't.