Case 5: Rise from the Ashes (PENANCE)
As my penance for not finishing some of the cases in the countdown, I decided to write a drabble for each of the cases I missed. This is also trying to keep me from skipping cases. >_> This one is for Rise From The Ashes and will hopefully prevent Sil from being fake angry with me for not playing it again. I know you had to play it a bizillion times OK! I am weak.
For a bit of explanation, I know what the fan-idea of Gant is, and I know that it's based on the creepy, staring, probably-close-talker image he has for most of Case 5. But when I replayed the case a few weeks ago, just before the countdown started, I think I really liked the Gant that you see at the end... arguably the true Gant. He's a tired old man who still believes in what he's done. He doesn't regret having done what he did, he just regrets doing it badly. So here we go.
"Sir, uh..." Goodman waves the half-filled lost property slip at me as I am walking by his desk.
"What is it, Goodman?" I peer at the slip, and not even the ID number is filled out. ...Oh. "Again, Goodman?"
"Actually, it's usually Gumshoe, sir. But it just disappeared earlier today. I'm sure it'll turn up but I still need to get evidence transferal done." His gaze is steady as I stare him down. But there's nothing to do about it, evidence transferal is crucial, especially today. It will certainly take a load off my mind to have that case finally buried.
"Well, it'll take too long to get you authorized for a temporary card. I'll just take you myself." Best to ensure personally that these things are done correctly.
He follows obediently as we go down to the evidence room. This is why I kept him around, he's always been so pleasant and naive, so very able to let himself believe whatever I tell him. We pass by the garishly decorated security station and Marshall isn't there to give me dirty looks. I should probably get around to firing him someday... But I think that it galls him more that I haven't yet.
I pass my card by the reader, and the door opens up with a click. I do so love these slick little things, but it's frustrating to deal with so much of this kind of thing. I let Goodman in before me.
I can hardly help myself... As he opens his locker, I peer over his shoulder. Shards of familiar pottery cast jagged shadows over all the other evidence in the SL-9 box as he pulls it out.
He turns towards me, suddenly. "Chief... I can't do this."
"What are you talking about, Goodman?" It's as if time has stopped. What? This is the goddamn finish line, Goodman, don't let your will crumple now!
He looks ruefully down at the box of evidence in his hands and asks, "Can you please reopen the investigation, Chief?" His normally placid, boyish face is creased and aged. "We can't transfer the evidence out." He insists, "There are too many questions left unanswered!"
I am baffled. There's no possible reason for this, right at the end of it, when I was so close to cementing this- My mind is racing but my expression remains calm.
"Sir...It's not too late. I'll hand this to Marshall! He and I can resolve this whole thing in no time, I swear." His face. His dumb puppy expression. He's so stupid but I know if I let them go through with it they'll blow the entire thing open. That tramp Angel will help them too, I can practically guarantee it. And I hate them all for failing me but I know they were the best we had then and they're still damn good now. I know I made mistakes, I just can't remember what they were anymore, so I wouldn't be able to stop them from figuring it out, either. But Goodman... Marshall... The two of them are tenacious. I can tell by Goodman's flint-black eyes, he's latched onto this and he's not letting go.
"Sir? Are you all right? You look a little pale."
Just shut the fuck up, Goodman. I have to think for a minute. The only thing keeping this going was the fact that you're a moron and now you're all ganging up against me and this is not going to happen. "Just fine." I manage to say.
"Well...?" Goodman's eyes are a little more nervous now.
I stare him down. Well!? WELL!? Is that all you have to say? My leather gloves squeak as my hands become fists. That idiot. He'll ruin everything, he'll destroy this and... criminals will start GETTING AWAY. It wouldn't be justice, Goodman, you don't understand. What we have now is justice.
I walk up to him, There's the box, and there's the knife, tag still sticking to it. I have to do something and the knife is in my hand, and it's the only answer. My own voice echoes back to me from years ago, on the witness stand. 'The murderer angled the knife just-so, and managed to pierce the victim's heart from between two of his ribs.'
His face... He looks so confused and disappointed, and blood courses hotly over my glove and I step back, panicked that it will get on my suit.
"Ch...ief...?" He keels over, his face still looking for answers he'll never find, blood starting to bubble from the corners of his mouth. I want to laugh but I can't. I set my lips in a scowl and stare at the blood spreading over the pristine floor as he twitches out his last.
I flip open my phone and dial Lana. "We have a mess to clean up," is all I say, and I tell her where I am and what I need her to do. It'll be tough to lose Lana, but... Well, there's always Worthy. My gloves are wet with blood, though it's hardly visible against the leather... It'll be tough to lose them, too. Maybe I'm getting to be too old for this... I gather up the box of SL-9 evidence, keeping it far from the spreading blood. This will be going to transfer eventually, but it looks like not today.
For a bit of explanation, I know what the fan-idea of Gant is, and I know that it's based on the creepy, staring, probably-close-talker image he has for most of Case 5. But when I replayed the case a few weeks ago, just before the countdown started, I think I really liked the Gant that you see at the end... arguably the true Gant. He's a tired old man who still believes in what he's done. He doesn't regret having done what he did, he just regrets doing it badly. So here we go.
"Sir, uh..." Goodman waves the half-filled lost property slip at me as I am walking by his desk.
"What is it, Goodman?" I peer at the slip, and not even the ID number is filled out. ...Oh. "Again, Goodman?"
"Actually, it's usually Gumshoe, sir. But it just disappeared earlier today. I'm sure it'll turn up but I still need to get evidence transferal done." His gaze is steady as I stare him down. But there's nothing to do about it, evidence transferal is crucial, especially today. It will certainly take a load off my mind to have that case finally buried.
"Well, it'll take too long to get you authorized for a temporary card. I'll just take you myself." Best to ensure personally that these things are done correctly.
He follows obediently as we go down to the evidence room. This is why I kept him around, he's always been so pleasant and naive, so very able to let himself believe whatever I tell him. We pass by the garishly decorated security station and Marshall isn't there to give me dirty looks. I should probably get around to firing him someday... But I think that it galls him more that I haven't yet.
I pass my card by the reader, and the door opens up with a click. I do so love these slick little things, but it's frustrating to deal with so much of this kind of thing. I let Goodman in before me.
I can hardly help myself... As he opens his locker, I peer over his shoulder. Shards of familiar pottery cast jagged shadows over all the other evidence in the SL-9 box as he pulls it out.
He turns towards me, suddenly. "Chief... I can't do this."
"What are you talking about, Goodman?" It's as if time has stopped. What? This is the goddamn finish line, Goodman, don't let your will crumple now!
He looks ruefully down at the box of evidence in his hands and asks, "Can you please reopen the investigation, Chief?" His normally placid, boyish face is creased and aged. "We can't transfer the evidence out." He insists, "There are too many questions left unanswered!"
I am baffled. There's no possible reason for this, right at the end of it, when I was so close to cementing this- My mind is racing but my expression remains calm.
"Sir...It's not too late. I'll hand this to Marshall! He and I can resolve this whole thing in no time, I swear." His face. His dumb puppy expression. He's so stupid but I know if I let them go through with it they'll blow the entire thing open. That tramp Angel will help them too, I can practically guarantee it. And I hate them all for failing me but I know they were the best we had then and they're still damn good now. I know I made mistakes, I just can't remember what they were anymore, so I wouldn't be able to stop them from figuring it out, either. But Goodman... Marshall... The two of them are tenacious. I can tell by Goodman's flint-black eyes, he's latched onto this and he's not letting go.
"Sir? Are you all right? You look a little pale."
Just shut the fuck up, Goodman. I have to think for a minute. The only thing keeping this going was the fact that you're a moron and now you're all ganging up against me and this is not going to happen. "Just fine." I manage to say.
"Well...?" Goodman's eyes are a little more nervous now.
I stare him down. Well!? WELL!? Is that all you have to say? My leather gloves squeak as my hands become fists. That idiot. He'll ruin everything, he'll destroy this and... criminals will start GETTING AWAY. It wouldn't be justice, Goodman, you don't understand. What we have now is justice.
I walk up to him, There's the box, and there's the knife, tag still sticking to it. I have to do something and the knife is in my hand, and it's the only answer. My own voice echoes back to me from years ago, on the witness stand. 'The murderer angled the knife just-so, and managed to pierce the victim's heart from between two of his ribs.'
His face... He looks so confused and disappointed, and blood courses hotly over my glove and I step back, panicked that it will get on my suit.
"Ch...ief...?" He keels over, his face still looking for answers he'll never find, blood starting to bubble from the corners of his mouth. I want to laugh but I can't. I set my lips in a scowl and stare at the blood spreading over the pristine floor as he twitches out his last.
I flip open my phone and dial Lana. "We have a mess to clean up," is all I say, and I tell her where I am and what I need her to do. It'll be tough to lose Lana, but... Well, there's always Worthy. My gloves are wet with blood, though it's hardly visible against the leather... It'll be tough to lose them, too. Maybe I'm getting to be too old for this... I gather up the box of SL-9 evidence, keeping it far from the spreading blood. This will be going to transfer eventually, but it looks like not today.