TRIAL 1 [DAY 4]

[calloperators]

[The sound of rapidly approaching police sirens indicates that it's time to leave the crime scene.

When you reach the previously-defunct laundry room at the motel, you find that the door swings open easily. A wave of air carrying stench of rotting flesh immediately hits you in the face, accompanied the sound of flies buzzing incessantly, having finally being released from their disgusting prison. Two rotting corpses lay on the ground, both with gunshot wounds through their bodies. Curiously enough, these corpses are both wearing masks--one with a wolf mask, and another with a clown mask. From the general state of these corpses, their bodies appear to have been here for weeks. Some of you might feel a twinge of recognition at the sight of them, though you don't remember why.

Once you manage to look past the corpses, you'll find that there's an open door on the back wall with stairs leading down. Whatever washing machines that used to be here have been removed, leaving rusty impressions on the walls and floor. As you carefully make your way down the concrete steps, the air grows colder and mustier, and the sound of the radios fade. You eventually step into a dimly-lit chamber that only vaguely resembles a boiler room, as a series of pulpits have been arranged in rows, labeled by room number. Pyro's stand, of course, is conspicuously empty.

You realize that this has been the only time during your time here that you haven't heard any music at all.

Standing before all the pulpits at the front of the room, there's a CRT TV buzzing with static. As soon as everyone files in, the metal door swings shut with an abrupt CLANG and locks behind you. The static fills the silence for several minutes.

The screen flickers, and a face appears. His blonde hair is slicked back in an unnatural fashion, his plastic smile is almost permanently affixed to his face, and the suit he's wearing looks...far too shiny to be remotely real. His movements are jerky, occasionally changing completely in pose in view to the camera.

He opens his mouth and speaks in a stuttering, artificial tone, rising and falling with no sense of rhyme or reason.]

This IS M-M-Max HEADroom, and YOU are all ^{all all} HERE to catch a murderer! Your JOB is to find out who's g-g-g-g u i l t y, and I'm here to help move things along, in a sense. ense. ense. [A pause.] Then again, you're--all guilty of something, aren't you?

[And he throws back his head and laughs.]



< TRIAL START! >

Comments

[headroom]

[The laughter stops as soon as it starts, his face returning to a neutral expression.]

But FIRST--! [The frame freezes for a moment before jerking back to life.] We've got to establish some r-r-rules! ^ONE! You can take as long-ong-ong as you like to decide who to vote for. Just don't make it _BORING, got it? TWO! You-You-You vote on who's responsible for the murder at hand, majority rules! Doesn't matter to the guys whether they were responsible for the most recent murder--as long as someone dies! And f-f-f-^finally, THREE! None of you are ^leaving this room until someone gets v-v-voted for!

Any _questions?

[iote]

...So whomever we vote for dies.

[I mean, he doesn't sound like he has a problem with this, but- ]

Are we expected to kill them ourselves, or will that be taken care of?

[knifegf]

[ called out from the back of the room: ]

Why us? Call the cops if you want this solved.

[worldchampofmartialarts]

[Satan doesn't break eye contact with the TV as he bolts down the aisle, slamming his palm down on his pulpit once he reaches it.]

Whaddaya mean "the guys"?! You know who's keeping us here, Headcase? You in on it?!

[advancements]

[Hang on, let him find a more eloquent way to phrase this question...]

Why are we doing this?

[no never mind, he's so done already.]

[anguineous]

[ from the back of the room, because like hell is he going to a podium unless someone forces him, he's too cool for that, just like he was too cool for investigation.... or being around in public at all throughout the week........ ]

And if we do get boring?

[boxingbuff]

[Ladd, who's decided that he's alright with being stuck in the back, for now, is just leaning on his pulpit, thinking.]

Yeah, what's up with those two stiffs in that room back there?

[boosterrific]

Yeah, I've got some questions! What's the meaning of all this? How'd you get us all here? Where's Skeets?

[beardcheck]

[Grog just knocks on the TV screen with one massive knuckle.]

[The fuck is you]

[conceivesfrenzy]

So we could just pick someone at random and vote for them if we wanted?

[seventhsign]

[ ...Max Headroom, huh? What a name. ]

And you're what, some kind of program trying to force us to make sure we 'comply'?

[orforfun]

Yeah, question.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

BODY INFO

[rangerslayer]

[ Once all of this is sorted, Kim clears her throat. ]

I guess I’ll start this off. [ She’s glaring at the TV and will continue glaring at it until further notice. ] I looked over Pyro’s body. It was outside the McDonald’s, and they were on their back with their arms wide spread. Their mask was misshapen and wet with blood. Couldn’t get a feel for what hit them, but it was probably a blunt object. Kinda strangely enough... there were no other injuries on their body. Their suit was completely intact, complete with lighters in their pockets. A lot of them.

[iote]

There were also lighters scattered around the motel parking lot. The pillowcase Pyro tended to keep their supplies in was present there as well, closer to some of the rooms.

[knifegf]

If there's no other injuries, then maybe there wasn't a struggle. Just a whack on the head.

[advancements]

[All of this is totally fine and not at all upsetting, and there's definitely nothing about this that Xander hates. Yep.

Moving on, it seems he's found a lot of stuff and he plunks most of it down on his podium. Time to get started.]

I found a few things in the area around Pyro. I believe this was used to kill him.

[He holds up a frying pan. It's dented a bit and still covered in blood near the dents, so that's fun.]

I also found this - I imagine it was Pyro's? [It's an aerosol can with a lighter taped to it. Basically a makeshift flamethrower.] I believe it must have been used; it feels lighter than other cans like this.

There's also these. [He holds up a small clear plastic bag containing clothing fibers.] They're charred beyond recognition, however.

Finally, I found these glass shards. I would assume they came from one of those bottles of alcohol. [Tah-dah! Here they are. There's probably only enough here to have come from one bottle, though it's a bit hard to say given the whole car on fire situation.]

[iote]

Pyro made things like that, regarding the can and the lighter. One was given to me a short while back. I would presume it was theirs.

[iote]

I don't know how much this will accomplish. I may as well ask anyway. How many of us smoke?

[beardcheck]

Only when I been set on fire.

clothing check!

[advancements]

The burned fibers I found seem to imply that there was clothing damage at some point, presumably from Pyro's killer. I'd like to examine everyone's clothing.

[So what are you wearing (if it's different from your usual), and do your clothes have any damage, assuming you'll let Xander get a look at them?]

I am willing to allow someone to examine mine as well.

[Though he'll need a moment to remove his armor if you're going to check him over.]

[worldchampofmartialarts]

Since I brought it up, you do me, I'll do you! I'm more than strong enough to help you outta the armor, by the way.

[iote]

I imagine it's worth talking to the people whose rooms Pyro's pillowcase was outside of. Both people I'm not familiar with, for better or worse.

Peter Quill and Ladd Russo, you will tell me what you were doing last night and if anyone can verify it. Anyone willing to say anything on their behalf may, but your word is worth little because, as has been so astutely mentioned, none of us know each other well. However, if you have something to say, I'll hear it.

[boxingbuff]

[perks up!]

I took a walk in the evening to stretch my legs, and came back to my room for the rest of the night... until I got woken up by that big boom, same as everyone else.

bodega cat herding

[neverstudied]

Ok, kids, can we all stop debating the existence of gods and magic for a minute?

[It's a sad time when Venkman has to step up as the voice of reason in a crowd, but sometimes it's necessary. But instead of Ray and Egon arguing over the chance of ghost bomb successfully detonating harmfully, it's a murder investigation.

Substantially less stupid, but far more depressing.]

We pretty much know Pyro got smacked in the head with a frying pan outside the motel, walked to the McDonalds parking lot, and died. We know a car got set on fire outside McDonalds, probably from the Molotov Cocktail. We know there were lighters everywhere, starting at the motel with the pillowcase and ending at the parking lot. And we know Pyro's frying pan was at the scene, and one of those aerosol can flamethrower things was used...

Come to think of it, Pyro gave me one of those. [He digs in his pockets for a moment and sets it down.] I dunno if they gave them to other people, but if so, the used one found at the scene might not've been Pyro's.

Anyway. There's also that unlit cigarette, but it's not the brand Satan's got- we could maybe check what brand the other smokers in the room have, see if that narrows anything down.

... Aaaaand some basically-useless burnt fibers. That about cover it?

[orforfun]

They gave me a lighter too, so I’m pretty sure they just had an infinite hoard of them.

CLOTHES CHECK x2

[rangerslayer]

Okay. Everyone, just...stay where you are. Alright? Let me get a look over you.

[ Now, what Kim's going to be looking for isn't damage, but what people are wearing. Are you in something different than usual? Missing...say, something noticeable, like a scarf or something? ]

[beardcheck]

[What is changing clothing, Grog's still in his shirtless LARPing gear.]

[gether]

[Ray exhales, and starts staring at nothing when he starts speaking. It seems like he’s still in shock.]

I had trouble sleeping last night. I guess despite telling myself everything would be fine, the “what if” was still getting to me. So I decided to go outside for some fresh air and a smoke.

But as soon as I left my room I saw Pyro, right outside Venkman’s room. I don’t know what they were doing there, but I assumed the worst and started running to them, and started shouting.

I… I don’t know if I set them off or if they thought I would be an easy target, but they started going after me. They tried setting me on fire with that flamethrower they made and when I tried to dodge they smashed a molotov cocktail against me, I guess trying to slow me down or make me more flammable.

I didn’t think I had enough time to go back in my room, or knock on the doors for help, so I just started running in hopes that they’d give up.

[He pauses, trying to keep his bearings. There’s an unspoken “but they didn’t” in that pause.]

When I got to the McDonalds, they threw a molotov cocktail in my direction. It missed me, obviously, but I realized I had to do something if I didn’t want to die.

I guess they’ve been dropping their weapons while they were following me. I guess they really wanted to kill me with the flamethrower. I saw the frying pan and I realized I had to do it.

[...]

I just kept hitting them over and over. I was so angry and desperate and it didn’t even hit me what I was doing until I was dead.

[neverstudied]

... The blood trail wasn't theirs. It was yours.

[That's... the only thing Venkman says, because that's the only thing he can let himself focus on. Every time he tries to comprehend the rest of it he gets stuck on the mention of his room.

This was his fault. Somehow or another, this was his fault.]

VOTING

[headroom]

[The trial is interrupted by Max Headroom.]

How t-t-t-touching.

[Said with the tone of someone who really couldn't care less. Frankly, he seems a little disappointed that Ray just admitted his guilt. His face twitches, and suddenly, an electronic panel flips over with a small LED screen and a keyboard on each of your podiums.]

Well, f-f-f-folks, we ^appear to have a confession. Type in your vote and press enter to sub-sub-submit. For those who are-- [Casts a glance towards Michalis, Grog...etc.] --technologically ^challenged, get help from the people in your row. You're not in kindergarten anymore.

[neverstudied]

Fuck you.

[A little bit of emotion is back in his voice, and it's all hate.]

What happens if we don't vote?

EXECUTION: FEEDING THE FIRE (cw: fire, shooting)

[headroom]

[Once the last person has submitted their vote, Max Headroom immediately turns to face Ray. His voice is soft--like a panther ready to pounce on its prey. As he speaks, it almost sounds as though another voice is echoing on top of his.]

Raymond Stantz. If you would please proceed to the front of the room.

[Ray, understandably, hesitates. He starts slowly shuffling off towards the television, hoping to delay the inevitable. Max has other plans. A trapdoor opens right in front of the television and steel fibers shoot out with remarkable speed. Ray lets out a yelp in surprise and instinctively moves to escape, but it's too late--the fibers have anchored themselves around his arms and drag him forward, into the dark pit below. The trapdoor slams shut, echoing throughout the chamber.

After a few moments of silence, the screen flickers and changes channels. Ray Stantz has been tied to what looks to be a stake with a large amount of kindling and firewood at his feet. There's the sound of something clicking, and suddenly, the whole pyre is alight. The camera zooms in on Ray's panicked expression as you hear the sound of Max Headroom, laughing like he's watching SNL. The faint sound of Genesis can be heard, but the screaming makes it difficult to pinpoint the source.

It's what Pyro would have wanted.

...However, burning someone at the stake takes a long time. You can feel heat rising at your feet, and some smoke is leaking through the invisible gaps in the floor. After about five minutes have passed, Max Headroom lets out a frustrated groan.]

C'mon, burn ^{f-f-f-f-faster!}

[But Ray's flesh doesn't listen. After a moment or two, there's a sharp click, like a gun being readied, and then--

BANG.

A shot rings out as a bullet wound appears in Ray's chest, a dark red stain spreading and staining his beautiful sweater. It barely takes a half a moment for Ray to collapse like a rag doll, the flames flickering up around him. A fire alarm goes off as the fire gets sprayed down by an unseen fire extinguisher. A white foam builds up over the scene, like snow falling on a quiet winter night.

There's an interminable silence.

The door to leave swings open.]

You're free to go. _{go. go.}

[The TV blinks to static. The smell of burning flesh lingers in the air.]

[beardcheck]

...Well that was fucked up.

[Like, he's seen worse? But usually in battle.]

[...On the way out he tests the door a little, to see how freely it swings.]