Ryslig IC Inbox

[inseine]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, PasUnPolicier. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 246.01.094.30 *** PasUnPolicier has joined 246.01.094.30 <PasUnPolicier> This mail centre belongs to Javert. <PasUnPolicier> Be accurate and brief. <PasUnPolicier> I suggest you not test my patience with practical jokes and clowning around. <PasUnPolicier> I will return your notice shortly.

Comments

<C_137>

[peaceamongworlds]

There once was a boy who was a Halloween fanatic. He loved dressing up for Halloween, he loved pulling pranks and watching horror movies, and above everything else... he loved candy. One fateful year, while he went trick-or-treating, he visited a house. This house was creepy as hell! It was big, it was old, it smelled like a grandmother and it was owned by a happy, old rich couple. The boy came here thinking that he would be handed out big chocolate bars, because it was a rich person's house but when he knocked on their door... he was handed a bag of that shitty candy that nobody likes! Tootsie rolls, shitty flavoured dum-dums, those weird... peanut things... needless to say, the boy was heartbroken. He was so heartbroken that he died, right there on their porch and now, every Halloween he goes out and finds people to curse. He wants everyone to suffer the same way he did!

Everybody is already suffering from his curse!! Send this to ten people to break the curse, or to avoid getting cursed, or you'll be stuck looking freakier than usual for the rest of your life!!!!!!!!!!

<juno>

[junosteel]

hey, is this javert?

remember that poacher you said you had captuve? i think i'd like to swing by and have a nice chat withhim

sorry for zny typos i still onlyl have one hand

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

This is Javert. He remains here on the ranch, well-fed but confined. Are you certain you are cleared for it while thusly indisposed?

<kriskringle>

[getmeoutofthedraft]

Merry Christmas!

Your Secret Santa is Dio Not Sure If He Has A Last Name. "holydiver" on the network. Price limit is whatever you want it to be, please gift something by December 24.

Ho, ho, ho!

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

Didn't I tell you NO?

[justbeingknife]

[ What's this? Why, it's a package for Javert, unsigned! Inside is: ]

[ A card that says 'STARTER KIT'
A simple bottle of wine
A dark cloak
A blood pack and straw
A felt puppet
A calendar for the new year ]

<kyouken> Sometime after Christmas

[justbeingknife]

Hi there. Are you busy?

[ read: Javert are you like suuuper hung over right now? ]

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

I am always busy.

[not... precisely true. But when he is not busy he is drowning in a lot of heavy thought. He hasn't forgotten his hivemind 'talk' with Majima, though, and that's precisely where his mind goes now.]

Not too busy for a trip to the public house.

[nobirdsallowed]

Merry Christmas Javert! Virgil is delivering fresh, warm bread and he'll deliver Javert a loaf of well-made crusty French bread, which feels right

<jack> 1/23; surprise contact after her own post, but sadly not about swords

[earrdrums]

hey javert!
(this is javert right? i think i typed your number right)

i saw you talking on dyme's post the other day, and i ended up with a question that i couldn't really ask since i was using someone else's laptop at the time
but now that i've got my own back i thought it wouldn't hurt to ask so

do you even know what jazz *is*?
this is important, i promise

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

You typed the number correctly. It is me.

Monsieur 'jiaheng' informed me it was excitement. What am I missing?

early january; i guess i could have done this in my post but hey i'm here now

[epitaffio]

[It's around ten o'clock when Doppio makes it to this Juno Steel's office. He would have been there sooner, but despite having gotten directions ahead of time, he definitely had to stop and ask again on his way there. At least it's helped him notice he's more comfortable seeing in the dark now; for some reason, in the last couple of days, even the winter's sunlight has seemed uncomfortably bright.]

Uh... I'm here to talk to a Mr. Javert?

[He looked young before, with a boyish face and generally poor posture, and his new antlers only sell the look further.]

You're totally fine!

[inseine]

[The man who gazes back at Doppio -- if you could call him a man, still -- regards him with that sort of ransacking, invasive look of the most skeptical of detectives. His red eyes gleam in a heavily-lined, square face, framed by thick black-and-gray whiskers. Everything about him, from his rigid, soldierly posture down to his discerning pupils, speaks of observing and assessing, and right now, he carefully assesses Doppio's build and physiognomy.

There is little in his expression to betray exactly what he thinks: He is slightly haughty, cuttingly frigid, and does not shy away from direct eye contact. It is easy to imagine his subordinates and enemies cowering beneath his lofty presence.

All of this sententious gravity is entirely at odds with some of the chosen office decor. At his back hangs a calendar full of shirtless, buff men. Atop a filing cabinet is a small purple vampire puppet, rather cute. Files are assembled in scattered piles on his desk, atop shelves, on the cabinets, and it looks like there is not quite enough space for all the paperwork mounded about.]

Doppio, alias purplepiper. I see. Your chosen name suits. Have you come to sell me your skills?

In the mail bitch

[restinglichface]

[Either the day before or after the holiday - Lup has a rep for being late for a reason - Javert will find this abomination waiting for him. somewhere. maybe his mailbox. maybe on his doorstep. maybe in his bed.

there's no signature, but there's a lipstick kiss left on the corner.]

[marcato]

[Shortly after Javert revives, he'll find a small, immaculately wrapped gift on his doorstep. Whoever could have sent it?

(The wrapping paper is completely white.)

There's a pristine, golden pocket watch inside of it. The sign for 'Jupiter' has been perfectly carved into its back. Underneath the watch, there's a note card written in calligraphy.

For your selfless sacrifice.

- A ]

<PasUnPolicier> Afternoon of the 17th

[inseine]

[Javert staggers to his doorstep with his third cigarette just about spent. He is heavily marked, with a thick band around his neck where the poachers sawed off his head, and two ragged star-shaped marks on his breast where he was staked. The white-wrapped parcel is a surprise: it looks to him like it was freshly-dropped off, the timing planned meticulously so it would not have to wait for its recipient long.

It looks so fresh, in fact, that Javert feels compelled to glance around through the fog, in case a certain someone lurks nearby. Because there is only one he knows that is so fond of pristine, unblemished white.

When he is satisfied he is alone, he carefully scoops up the parcel and lets himself inside. He opens the gift in solitude after he contacts his closest allies for a status update.

Javert doesn't say a word about it to Aunamee. Nothing he can think of to say seems sufficient or appropriate, and he cannot settle his feelings on the matter. But next they meet in the flesh, his 'friend' may notice a glinting gold watch chain sparkling out of the top of his coat pocket. Time is important for him to track, and it is a gift that will see much use.]

<saturnschild>

[marcato]

You should stay away from Black Hat, Monsieur.

Lest you want another death on your hands.

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

I am beyond fearing death.

Rest easy. We are not friendly.

<lecter>

[baisunas]

In light of recent developments, I wonder if I might ask one last favor of you.

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

[What an odd coincidence. Javert frowns at the private message on his screen. He had logged on to reach out to the very same person... He shakes off the prickling in his neck.]

What do you wish?

<lecter>

[baisunas]

You were right. It wasn't permanent.

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

[Javert is absolutely stunned to see this name pop up on his screen. At first he wonders if it is some sort of crude joke, but no, one would have had to break and enter into Hannibal's things, and only the paranoid Daniel has that sort of access. It is out-of-character for Daniel to do such a thing.

After the shock comes a flood that resembles... relief. Relief, followed by crass and dreary resignation.]

Of course not. That is unfortunate.

[He no longer envies Lecter. It's a wretched thing, to die repeatedly.]

I should like to return what belongs to you.

<pace_tua>

[pacetua]

boss, be honest with me a moment. because it looks like you're condoning their actions. are you?

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

I am honest.

No. They committed abuses, but on a technicality, no physical assaults. There is nothing to convince me that the best course of action is to take up the torches in a damn fool crusade and burn down their homes.

[Which does not mean he is doing nothing... but that part isn't visible to the public eye.]

<lecter>

[baisunas]

The project is complete and ready for distribution.

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

That is much quicker than expected! You are quite efficient, Monsieur. Are there different formulations for each breed, or have you concocted a universal drug?

<0100000101001101>

[godofthemachine]

[Someone has been obsessing on a certain incident....]

You know, Javert, I found it rather odd that you would say something like this to Amanda:

What I am telling you is to stay out of my mind. Place me in whatever death traps you please, I do not care. But I will become considerably less generous with you and Monsieur if I discover you displaced my head again.

Interesting, don't you think?

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

If you wish to chat with me, I am but a few flights of stairs away. My office is just over your head. Crawl out of your dungeon and speak to my face.

What do you want?

<BlackHat>

[evilopportunityemployer]

Why, my dear Javert. I happened upon a funny fellow this past day.

A proper beast of a man, though not nearly as brutish as you led me to believe.

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

[Oh, Javert saw this message. And when he saw this message he very nearly felt compelled to throw the entire machine into the ocean, like he once suggested Polnareff ought to do with his own useless laptop.

He doesn't, though. And he comes back to return a few words. Eventually.]

Well, is that all you have for me? Why not take it further? Go on. Tell me more about this beast you found.

<saturnschild> one day after arrivals

[marcato]

My dear Javert.

Are you well?

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

I am working. What do you want, Monseigneur?

[Let it be known that it is mid-afternoon. The sun is high in the sky. Javert is a vampire... and he has not slept, and hasn't slept since before he became a Nephilim.

Yet he claims he is working.]

1st murder

[baisunas]

( A human woman comes to Javert's office at 10pm. She's in her mid-forties, likely from the middle class, and distraught though she's trying to hide it. She's heard that he's an investigator and she needs to report a crime. If asked why she didn't go to the human police, she will just shake her head and ask him to come with her.

She will take him to a secluded corner of a tiny park in a lower middle-class Bavan neighborhood. A guillotine has been set up and there is a headless body of a human man: mid-to-late thirties, casually dressed, no outstanding features or distinguishing marks. The guillotine's blade is smeared with dried blood. There is dried blood splashed across the paving stones beneath the corpse's neck. The man was obviously killed here.

An examine of the corpse will reveal that all of the bones in his limbs have been broken. As if he'd been put on a breaking wheel. The misalignment of the bones and no evidence in the surrounding area of the method of breaking means that the damage was done prior to his execution.

Javert will find his head adorning that of a statue in the park. The statue's head is nowhere to be found.

Extensive interviews of the neighborhood as to the identity of the man will eventually reveal that his name is Martin Fisk. He was a known criminal: he broke into peoples' homes and would rob passersby. (Strange coincidence, surely, that the punishment for brigandage under the Ancien Régime was breaking on the wheel.) But because his brother is on the police force, no charges were ever made. No one can provide a name of anyone with a motive to kill him. )

2nd murder

[baisunas]

[ An elderly man comes to Javert's office near midnight, ashen-faced. He's simply dressed, his clothing that of a laborer. He asks for Javert to come quickly. There's been a murder. If asked for further elaboration, he'll shake his head, a little wide-eyed, and request that Javert accompany him. "You have to see it, sir," he'll say. "You just have to see it."

It's to Bavan's warehouse district that the man takes him, to a large courtyard between two warehouses, dark at this time of night. He'd been on his way to work, the man says, and running late, took a shortcut through here and found this.

This is an intricate tableau of bodies, carefully arranged as if to form a story. To the right, eleven naked men—sheer swathes of colorful fabric loosely woven through their stiff limbs—set in a circle around the body of another man, large and muscular and clothed in a white robe. He has long white hair and a thick white beard. His left arm is curled around the body of a naked woman. His right is outstretched, reaching toward the body of another man, young and lean and blond, sprawled naked and reaching back toward him with his left hand. Their fingertips mere centimeters from touching.

Perhaps Javert recognizes it as a painstaking recreation of Michelangelo Buonarroti's Creation of Adam?

Although perfectly preserved, further examination will reveal that these individuals were not killed at the same time. Some died more than a week ago. One was killed earlier that night. They all appear to have been suffocated to death.

It will take some effort to uncover the names of all the victims: Gus Humphrey, Roger Daly, Tomas Weeks, Charley Moreno, Horace Foreman, Saim Wiggins, Wilson Murray, Aydin Aldred, Jack Talbot, McCauley Pace, Ajay Gibson, Cassidy Dawson, Cormac Neale, and Hallie Kirk. None of them are related. They don't seem to know each other. Further investigation will reveal histories of theft, murder, assault, robbery, selling illegal substances, and arson. Rumor has it that Cormac Neale may have even run in more dangerous circles.

Should Neale's apartment be searched, he will find the lower left-hand drawer of his bureau has a false bottom. Inside, one large pristine feather, white shading to black at the tip. Perhaps Javert recognizes it. It once belonged to him. ]

<kyouken> forward dated to a little after the kidnappings

[justbeingknife]

Javert, you seen your boy lately? I missed him at his new job.

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

[Javert has been Very Frustrated. And Very Upset. You know why? Because he'd been attempting to keep a tail on Valjean ever since he let him out into the city. Of course his attempts were foiled. Of course the old convict managed to slide under his eyes and ears and disappear into the ether. Of course he escapes manages to escape Javert, and yet somehow the fates see to it that Javert can never fully escape Valjean.]

The damn fool gave me the slip. No reason to hide, and here he is, off to his old habits! What has he done?

<0100000101001101> dated before the kidnappings - 1/?

[godofthemachine]

Javert. Are you in?

<0100000101001101> 2/?

[godofthemachine]

I have some rather interesting news.

<lecter>

[baisunas]

[ Directly after this ]

Did you just return home only to leave again when you heard Will shouting at me?

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

[Some time passes before Javert returns to his laptop for a reply. It's closer to dawn by the time he makes it back, and appraises this startling message with an arched brow and a pinched frown.

He considered it a courtesy to leave them to their privacy.]

I had no want to interfere. Your business is yours.

[rbs]

[ Maybe it's a stupid fucking decision to go get shit-faced when he's pretty sure some undead horror is creeping into his bedroom at night and stalking him wherever he goes, but so far staying awake all night to try to kill the thing hasn't produced the vampire in question. And the marks, initially hoped to be a figment of his overactive imagination, haven't disappeared. Roman has no choice but accept that they're real. Which means the vampire trying to kill him is real.

He's seen Dracula. He's seen half a dozen other vampire movies. He knows how this shit ends.

Four hours and so many shots of tequila that he's lost count later, Roman staggers out of the bar and onto the dark street. It's late. He doesn't know how late because he still doesn't have a new watch, but the streets are pretty empty. If the bastard whose after him approaches, he ought to see him coming. And if he gets too close, Roman's got a knife in his pocket. He can handle it.

He hopes.

Halfway back to his shitty apartment, he takes a shortcut through an alley, buoyed by the absence of monsters and alcohol-induced confidence into believing that he's just being paranoid. He's engaged in some pretty intense mental self-congratulation when he bumps into someone coming the other way. ]

Hey. [ There's a noticeable slur to his voice. ] Watch where you're going, huh?

[inseine]

[Javert halts in his tracks and tests the air, eyes sliding shut. Inhale. Exhale, slow and steady, let the flavor of the scent wash over his tongue.

This one's marinated, but in what? Not wine. Not whiskey. The corner of his mouth curls. Whatever courses through the man's veins, it is not quite the flavor Javert was craving that night--but it is awfully opportune. Besides, sometimes a dash of liquor imparts a little extra something, enriches the taste of the drink and masks any potential deficiencies in the stock. And no one ever misses the lushes. Anyone out getting soused alone on a week-end is hardly anyone worth a second glance for anybody except a lonely pissant looking for an easy fight.

Or a thirsty vampire. Yes, dinner-with-a-drink can suit Javert well enough for a meal.

Tapping his cane against a booted toe, he bends his head over his shoulder. He is a featureless shadow, the Fog and the shade of his hat-brim casting him as a tall, indistinct mount of a man. The polished head of his cane catches the light and glints like the blade of a knife.

He again sniffs and rumbles, a doggish growl set deep in his throat.]

You're good and steeped, [he barks.] What have you drunk?

<aeternus>

[chemoscion]

A clarification, if you will.

You scolded me for the mere suggestion that I might kill monsters, habitually or otherwise. Yet it seems that you're quite permissive of our kinsmen violating each other in other ways. Do you mean to tell me that, so long as there's no body, you see no reason to intervene?

[ It's half genuine curiosity, and half the need to needle. But much was said where anyone might see it, and Lucius has a nose for this sort of trouble. ]

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

That would be a grave mistake, Monsieur Lucius-the-Eternal.

Killing fellow monsters is a disruption of natural order. No good is to come of it, only an endless cycle of bloody revenge and petty arguments. That does not suit our purpose here.

The complaints from the busybodies you read about on the network are speaking about a shared hallucination, in which none of us were harmed at the end of it. There are no concrete laws or guidelines about such incidents, and therefore there is no fair and just way to condemn such actions as our society stands.

M. Edgeworth and the lawyers studying the law tracts of Ryslig mean to change this. That is their area to manage, not mine. I know my place.

<kyouken>

[justbeingknife]

Hey there. Head's up, you're gonna have to find someone else to look after Valjean for ya.

<PasUnPolicier>

[inseine]

[To be melodramatic, another piece of him dulls and withers when he sees this message, though comprehension has not yet dawned on him.]

What is this about, Majima?