Iron Quill (Falling) - Broken [Final]

[StormLordXIII]

Hi all,

Please ignore the last thread - I have to figure out how to delete it. The formatting was weird and I couldn't edit it for some reason. Sorry for the confusion! Anyway, here is the story!

Broken

“Are you telling me that you have no idea why you are here, Ms. Willows?” The Guild inspector looked down at the files set before him with a grimace. Beth Willows sat across from him apprehensively, hands clasped, bundled fists nested neatly but precariously in the folds of a lavish saffron performer’s dress with dark purple bows and white frills.

“Come now, don’t be shy.” He stared at her with his beady black eyes.

Beth said nothing, but continued to cast her gaze nervously at the ceiling of the interrogation room. The faint clicking of grinding gears reached her ears, and in the shadows, she thought she saw a bat-like creature lodge itself in between the cobwebs clouding the upper corners of the dingy holding cell.

The Guild inspector smiled. “Don’t mind the Watcher, dear. Now, look at me.”

Beth continued to look up the ceiling, determinedly avoiding the inspector’s harsh glance.

He raised his voice. “I said, look at me.”

Beth flinched, and her hands unfurled in her lap. She had clenched them so tightly that her finely polished nails had left bloody scratches on her palms.

The inspector smiled again. “That’s better.” He caught her gaze at last. His voice dropped to a whisper now; it was purely predatory. “There are quite a few allegations against you, it seems.” The inspector placed his tongue delicately between his pointed teeth. “Theft, arson, and murder.” His eyes lit up with the final charge and his voice rang with sickening excitement.

Beth bit her lip, and with a sudden and unexpected scowl, she said, calmly but curtly, “You have nothing on me, worm.” Her eyes flashed with a fury which belied her fear.

The inspector was not taken aback. He merely smiled at her frustration before retorting, “Then why are you so afraid? The blood and sweat running down your palms seems to suggest otherwise. I have you for murder and you have the gumption to call me worm?” He tapped the Guild marshal badge clipped to his lapel with a smirk. It was brass, in the shape of a ram, with glaring, bloody rubies for eyes.

“Yes, I do.” Beth leaned forward, locking gazes at last with her accuser. She could smell the tobacco and whisky on the inspector’s breath, but she was not repulsed. “I’m done speaking with you.” She grabbed the inspector’s coat lapels, wiped her bloody hands on them with a snarl, and spat in his face. She returned to her seat and crossed her legs, upper lip curled.

The inspector removed his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. “Let’s start with the night of November the twenty-seventh.” He began flipping through the files eagerly. “What can you tell me about that evening?”

“You are wasting your time.”

“Am I? Why the hell do you think I went to the trouble of sending a team to track you down?”

“Because you have nothing better to do except to torment performing girls, ambushing them on their way home from the Star, locking them in cells with your sick creations.” She glanced up at the bat-like creature which had now nestled itself on the inspector’s shoulder. He had called it a Watcher; she understood why. It had a great brass camera lens for a head. The Guild creation would have been comical if it weren’t so sickening.

The inspector licked his lips greedily and chuckled, but with a shrug he nonetheless answered, “No, Ms. Willows. Because I’m doing my job.” He slammed his fist on the table. Beth could hear the wood creak, and she almost drew back a fraction of an inch from the edge of her seat. “Now, where were you?”

“I’m done speaking with you.”

“You are making my job quite difficult, Ms. Willows. If you think I will put up with this lack of compliance simply because the miners adore it when you twirl on stage at the Star, you are sadly mistaken.” The inspector withdrew a cigar from his pocket and set it alight with a flourish. He reached across the table and stroked her cheek. Beth withdrew with a shudder. “That face of yours seems so appealing; it would be a shame if something were to happen to it, wouldn’t it, love?”

She remained cold. “Whatever you do to me, he can do worse. He always does.”

“Let’s start there, then. Who is he?”

“That’s none of your concern, dog.”

The inspector stood up violently; his chair clattered to the floor. The Watcher took flight in surprise with a grating, mechanical squawk it began to circle above them. He snatched up the file on the table, rifled through it, and thrust it beneath her nose. He had opened it to a daguerreotype of a grotesquely burnt corpse. His features were no longer recognizable: Meat, nothing more.

“This man, here, Spencer Whishaw – you killed him. You broke into his house the night of the twenty seventh and killed him, robbed him, and burnt his house down to conceal the evidence! Tell me! You did, don’t lie, it will be more painful for you if you do!”

“Malifaux is a dangerous place, inspector.” Beth batted her eyelashes and replied coyly, “That could have been anyone. You have no evidence to suspect me, and even if I did kill someone, you would think that my employers are beyond your control and more dangerous than you can imagine. And like I said, I don’t care what you say, I’m not speaking any further.”

The inspector paid no heed but continued to shout. “We confiscated a ring from you with a poisoned needle beneath its gem containing the exact venom which our best mortician, Dr. McMourning, said was clearly present in the corpse. We have eyewitnesses that said you left the Star theatre with Whishaw on the night of his death. You got in a coach with him. We tracked down the driver - he took you to Whishaw’s house. You are defenseless, I have you, and I swear by the righteous wrath of the Guild I will hang you.”

It was only then that Beth began to shudder. The evidence was too strong, and she knew it. There was no escape. She could not look at the inspector. His bloodshot, watery yellow eyes, his leering Ram’s badge, the Watcher circling his head, and most of all, the wicked, gaunt, brutish smile – all swam before her, all were deluged with through a cascade of burning tears. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“Any of what?” The inspector leaned forward eagerly. He had broken her, and hoped to play with his meal a little longer before he consumed it. The case was open and shut, as he knew it would be.

Beth began sobbing vigorously, her resolved was tested and it had failed. She began murmuring to herself incoherently. “She had said, ‘Welcome to the greatest show in Malifaux!’ That I could be a showgirl. That I would be famous and adored. And loved. Loved most of all.”

“Who?”

But Beth didn’t answer. She seemed lost in thought. The inspector was far away as Beth gazed up at the ceiling again. “I was a respected Ballerina Earthside, damn it! I was adored! And what am I now? A whore? No… a killer. How low have I stooped?”

“It seems that you are both. What expectations did Mr. Whishaw have when he took you home that night, I wonder? And you were careless, foolish, and lost. But there is redemption, Ms. Willows. Let me help you find it.”

Beth grabbed the inspector by the forearm and dug her nails in deep. She looked at him with cold fury and deep-seated anguish, born only from the purest sense of hopeless desperation and terror. She whispered, “You can’t help me. When your men accosted me, threw a bag over my head, and threatened to carve me slowly, they were not there to uphold the law. And you… you care not for justice, only for profit.”

“What I believe in is neither here nor there, Ms. Willows. I have you tied to a murder you just as well confessed to in the same pitiable carelessness that left you sitting before me tonight. Do you know where you are, Ms. Willows?”

Choking back tears, Beth shrugged.

“You are in the Guild compound approximately two blocks from the Star. How does it feel to be so close but so far from your companions who are all preparing for the nine o’clock show? You may never see them again, unless you help me so I can help you. Who is he?”

Beth threw back her head and laughed. Her hair was tangled, tears and mascara streamed down her face. “Who do you think, you witless fool! He’s been operating under your nose the whole time out of the Star with Collette Du Bois! He knows where I am, he knows! He knows who you are, inspector, and he’s coming for you! He’s Vi-”

The Watcher circling above them sparked and twitched before swooping at full speed into Beth Willow’s neck. The showgirl collapsed to the floor, neck broken. The camera lens stared the inspector full in the face before flashing bright red. He barely had time to read the phrase self-destruct sequence initiated blinking on the Watcher’s oculus before he was forced to dive out of his chair and take shelter beneath the interrogation table.

It was over in a flash of shrapnel and flame. The inspector picked himself up from the floor before murmuring, “The greatest show in Malifaux indeed…” There was a dead showgirl in his holding cell and the inspector was no closer to finding her employer and killer than he was before. He had no further evidence, and no ideas for how to procure any more. It was time for a cup of brandy and to file the paperwork for a claim of suicide... No further investigation required, all leads deceased. Case closed, payment due.

[edonil]

That was very, very well done. As usual, you continue to impress, sir. I loved the great job you did conveying the emotions of the characters. Nice job with the tight plot, that was fun to read. I really like what you did with not naming the inspector, it kept him more a force than a character which was perfect.

My advice on things to watch for:

You do have a tendency towards purple language. Some of that is your style, and keep it. I'm trying to get some back into my own. Just watch out for sentences like this:

Beth Willows sat across from him apprehensively, hands clasped, bundled fists nested neatly but precariously in the folds of a lavish saffron performer’s dress with dark purple bows and white frills.