《Caveship》4 || Vincent
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"What a mess..." Vincent grumbles softly as his vehicle pulls up to 'Ground Zero', the name they were calling the scene he'd been assigned to help oversee, a few officers moving the wooden barriers that were being used to deny onlookers access to the area. His vehicle whines to a stop as he parks, shutting off the old clunker of a car he refused to replace. Opening the door, which groans from decades of constant use, he slowly shifts to leave the vehicle, but pauses suddenly. He reaches back to pick up his cup of coffee, the thick styrofoam branded with the greens and blacks of his favorite coffee shop. Cup in hand, the man pulls himself to a stand. The sudden shift in weight causing the vehicle's shocks to groan.
Now fully in the light, it becomes obvious that Vincent is a man of average height and build. His short, thick red hair, blue eyes and pale skin speak volumes of his Irish heritage. A blue dress shirt and khaki pants, complete with black leather belt round out a typical business casual attire. The only thing off about the ensemble is Vincent's shoes, which are just black sneakers meant not to draw attention, but still look at a swift glance like dress shoes. He sets his coffee onto the hood of his car briefly, but only to reach in and acquire a messer fedora, slowly lifting it to his head.
"Good of you to finally show up, Vince." A female officer steps in closer, more decorated than the rest of her peers, which affords her a more serious consideration compared to the other officers. Her hair, normally lengthy and blonde, is pulled up into a ponytail to keep it out of her face, and her green eyes and charming complexion do little to dull the annoyance leveled toward Vincent. Her badge reflects her position of 'Captain', and her outfit is spotless, as pert and professional as she can manage it. It's clear she takes her position and job very seriously. "I called you out here an hour ago."
"Yeah, well..." Vincent slowly lifts his free hand to his chin, scratching it lightly, his nails generating a soft noise as they glide over the scruffiness of his five o'clock shadow. His attention turns to his coffee on the hood of his car, reaching out to pick it up. "There was tons of traffic." There's an awkward silence as the female stares at him, incredulous. Her eyes visibly dart from Vincent's face, to his coffee, then back to his face again. "Yet you had enough time to get coffee."
Vincent is clearly without a response to that, except to lift the cup to his lips and sip from the plastic top's opening. He lowers it again, licks his lips, and gently tips the cup toward her. "You know, you seem like you could use some, Katherine."
Katherine merely throws her arms into the air, turning to walk away from him. "Unbelievable..."
Vincent moves to quietly follow her, trying to take stock of the area. The police presence at the clearing is nearly suffocating, too many people in one area for Vincent to easily walk. The leftovers of a party are obvious all around him: coolers full of melted ice and plenty of alcohol, several tents, plenty of fold out chairs. A few vehicles have been left behind, and even with the heavy police presence, it's clear that there was plenty of sudden movement out of the area. Off in the distance, just over the trees left standing, looms what's left of Buckhorn Mountain. It's almost as if the mountain had collapsed in the middle, the peak gone, leaving just one big, messy crater behind.
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"What in god's name...?" Vincent says, astonished at the sight.
"The story we've been told to tell people around here is that Buckhorn Mountain collapsed in on itself due to mine shafts collapsing all at once," Katherine explains, staring off into the distance at the sight.
"Between you and me, though, I think that story is a load of bull." She's about to continue speaking, but she's suddenly interrupted as another man approaches.
"Not really your place to make those kinds of assumptions, Captain." The chief of police for Vincent's station, Gunther Williams, was a man to be respected. A veteran of middle eastern wars now police chief, the man stands proud, at least a head taller than either Katherine or Vincent. Much like Katherine, one can tell he takes pride in his work, and that shines brightly through the upkeep of his uniform. His hair is short, but beginning to grey lightly around the edges, something he's worked hard to cover up. His military cut style of short black hair says that he never really left the army, and his brown eyes have an uncharacteristic softness to them.
Slowly, Gunther pulls a file he'd hidden from view behind himself, holding it out toward Katherine. It's a bit thick, holding a plentiful stack of papers, and so requires a firmer grip to be held out with just one hand. On the cover, a red stamp pressed into the front of it reads 'Confidential'. "Please inform Vincent here what his assignment is. It's a doozy, this one."
Katherine accepts the file, and immediately turns to Vincent, who calmly receives it. "You'll be investigating the events that took place here, including the disappearances of five teenagers from this area. They were part of a party out here according to some of the kids we picked up when we arrived. We think they're either dead or still trapped somewhere within ground zero."
"Why is this particular case confidential?" Vincent inquires, still flipping through the information. He takes note of the pictures and information inside, quickly browsing through it all. "Have you guys questioned any of the witnesses?"
"Not yet," Katherine admits. "The kids we caught were still in shock when we arrived. We treated them for injuries and gave them some time and space to calm down, let them know they weren't in trouble. Figured we'd leave them to you." She turns her attention back to Gunther. "We'll take care of things here."
Gunther nods toward her. "Good. Someone needs to go back to the station and make order out of this chaos." He raises a hand up to salute them. "Keep up the good work, Kat. Vincent." He nods in his direction and heads back toward where the vehicles were parked.
Alone with Vincent again, Katherine gives him a soft glare. "This is important, Vincent. Their families are relying on us. The press is already on our ass about it. We don't do this right, it'll look bad for the department."
Annoyed by Katherine's verbal approach, Vincent briefly gives her a pointed look, turning his attention back down to his assigned work. "I take my job seriously, Captain."
"If that were true, you'd be a higher rank by now, not out here in the field like some intern."
"Maybe I like it out here," Vincent says with a smirk.
"Just do your job, Vince. For once, do what you're told. And get rid of the hat? It's not the 70's anymore." Katherine says, turning to head back toward the officers still busy making note of what was left behind in the rush to leave the area. Though her words were meant to be scathing, it's clear Vincent is unphased.
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Quietly skimming the contents of the file, Vincent closes it up and turns to the nearest officer and taps his shoulder to get their attention. "Hey. Where are the kids you guys caught?"
"Over there." The officer points toward an ambulance, where two teenagers, seated on the tailgate of the vehicle, are being tended to by a paramedic. Tipping his hat as an appreciative gesture, Vincent finishes off the rest of his coffee, tosses the cup away, and moves to approach the ambulance. He takes note of the appearance of the teenagers before he gets close enough to draw their attention.
The first of the two is a notably tall, dark skinned female, the sort of lithe athletic type that suggested she might be part of the cheerleading squad. Her raven black hair and brown eyes frame her face, and it's dirty enough to suggest that she was caught in part of whatever fallout came down with the collapse of the mountain. Her body is covered by a green blanket, obscuring the rest of her body, and her attention seems aimed squarely at the ground.
The second is a taller white male, with unkempt brown hair and blue eyes, the sort of attractive heartthrob type that would be exceedingly popular with the ladies. Like his female counterpart, his face is covered in a thick layer of dirt. He is wrapped in a green blanket that obscures his body enough that Vincent can't tell what he is wearing. Not that such a thing was important.
"Hello." Vincent speaks up once he gets closer, catching the attention of the boy, but the girl refuses to make eye contact with him, preferring to stare at the ground still. "I'm Detective Vincent Callahan. I've been assigned to investigate the disappearance of five of your peers." He opens up the file to refresh his memory of the names. "Sophia Rodriguez, Darius Taylor, Nicholas Mason, Sarah Hyland, and Ava Gardner. Do any of you know them by any chance?"
"I do." The male speaks up. "I'm Daniel Hyland, Sarah's brother. I brought her to the party."
Vincent nods, opening the file and producing a pen so he can write some notes. "Okay, Daniel. Just a few questions. When was the last time you saw Sarah, and what was she doing?"
"I was with a group of friends. When we first arrived to the party, Sarah and I split up. She assured me that she'd be fine if I left her alone, so I did," Daniel explains, closing his eyes to think as he recalls the night before. "I spent most of the night at camp..." He pauses, opening his eyes, as if trying to debate if what he has to say is important. "I dozed off. Got up early, and the sun was out, couple of friends wanted to me to go swimming in the lake. I saw Sarah was asleep, figured she wouldn't miss me if I left. And, well, I snuck out. That was the last time I saw her."
Vincent nods, continuing to jot down notes, most of his attention on the file than the teenagers. "Keep going."
Daniel nods, then looks around in search of something. Vincent watches patiently as the boy pulls a water bottle from behind him where he'd left it, opening the cap and taking a deep swig of the liquid inside. He continues as he caps the water. "We got halfway there when the tremors started. A tree fell in front of our car, and we ran into it because we couldn't stop in time. Nothing major, but we couldn't get the car to start up again."
"Alright. Anything else?" Vincent inquires, pressing the boy for more information.
"Well, we decided to walk the rest of the way back but the tremors started again, just as we were getting close to camp. The mountain collapsed in on itself. It was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life. Before I could think to run, I noticed something. It was... rising from where the mountain used to be, it looked like a..." Daniel pauses again, only briefly. "A ship."
Vincent quirks an eyebrow slightly. "A ship?"
"Yeah. That's the best way I can describe it."
Calmly, Vincent points his pen at the girl next to him. "Did she see this? Can she vouch for you?"
"Yeah. She was with me." Daniel gently nudges the girl next to him with his elbow. "Aiesha."
At the contact, Aiesha jumps, startled, finally bringing her attention back to the others. "I'm sorry, I..."
"It's okay, Aiesha." Vincent assures her, writing down her name along with Daniel's in his notes. "Daniel here says that you two saw something coming out of the mountain. Can you describe it for me please?"
Aiesha nods, turning her attention back down to where her hands might be in her lap, had the blanket not been obscuring them. "It was like a UFO..."
"A UFO? ... " Vincent says, his eyebrows raising in question, eyes amused.
"It was grey with a long body, like a... a... submarine," Aiesha stutters, still keeping her attention focused toward her lap. "It had sections to it, like a ship. There were lights on it."
Vincent looks between the two, trying his best to suppress that incredulous look he wants to have on his face. There's no reason not to believe this girl, but the situation is strange. "So, the mountain collapses, you two see a UFO..." The two nod as he looks between them. "And then what?"
Daniel takes over again, speaking up. "A few of our friends who were still at the camp after the tremors, they told me they saw Sarah head off toward the mountain to look for me, so I went to try and find her. There were landslides. I thought she might be trapped."
"Don't worry, we have search dogs and people looking for Sarah and the others. If she's there, they'll find her," Vincent reassures Daniel, slowly closing the file after jotting a few more notes. "Thank you for the information. If I have any more questions, I'll be in contact with you."
Daniel nods and turns to the paramedic that approaches them as Vincent steps away.
Vincent lifts his free hand to scratch at his forehead with the back of his pen. "Mountain collapses, UFO appears, missing kids." He sighs. "What is this, the X-Files?"
The distant crunch of a caravan's worth of tires on gravel pulls his attention to the roadway he'd arrived from, not far from where he was standing. Several military Humvee arrive, each one a dull green and brown color that almost seems like camouflage. They roll up to camp with a sort of urgency that says they should have been there hours ago. As they skid to a stop, every door opens, and the already crowded camp gets that much more crowded as military soldiers take command of the area in barely a minute.
"Hello! May I have your attention please?" A tall man, clearly in his early thirties, stands atop one of the Humvees closest to camp. He has the same uniform as every other soldier, though his voice has the tone of someone in charge. "As of this moment, this investigation has been handed over to the United States military. Drop everything you're doing, return to your vehicles, and leave the premises immediately. Failure to comply will result in your arrest. Thank you."
Vincent is subsequently approached by a single Hispanic man in camouflage fatigues, just a few inches shorter than he is. "Sir." The man says. "We've been told to confiscate any evidence or files you may have about the incident. Please hand them over."
The traditional stern face and assault rifle strapped where it can be easily accessed if needed is enough to intimidate just about anyone, but Vincent quietly lifts the file up to present to the man, and smiles. "Very sharply dressed. I know a lady who would love you."
The man takes the file, looks Vincent over as if trying to decide if he's hiding anything, before he nods and turns to head back to his superior. Escorted to his vehicle by another soldier who approaches a few moments later, Vincent calmly opens the door, climbs in, and fights the engine for a moment to get it to start. It takes some maneuvering, but he moves his boat of a vehicle back out onto the road leading out of the forest. Satisfied he's away from prying eyes, Vincent carefully removes his messer fedora, making sure the contents are still intact.
Inside the hat are several of the papers that had originated from the folder, neatly folded, as well as the photographs of the five missing teenagers. "I guess I forgot about these," Vincent whistles innocently, tossing the fedora into the passenger seat, and driving home.
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8 158Ode to Freud
For those who do not understand the reference, "wish fulfillment" is before anything a term created by Sigmund Freud in the 1900's. In psychology it is a state of satisfying unconscious needs and desires by the use of fantasy and delusion. In literature it is the very base of fictional work, but also the name of a style of writing where the author sacrifices the key elements of good storytelling in order to fulfill his own psychopathic, neurotic or perverse needs and desires, usually through the use of the characters in weird and forced situations. What I meant by the title of this story is that it is a trashy, badly written, shitty story about me getting some wish fulfillment by the use of some characters and a fictional world of my creation. Not the good kind of fulfillment, since my wishes are of the bad kind and I intend to fulfill those, not yours. Also, being a total amateur and not writing a proper plot before starting are two big indicators that this story is going to go bad. I guess Royal Road call this kind of stories the "Mary Sue" kind. So, unless you are a very ugly piece of trash (at least as much as I am) don’t bother reading it. Now, if you ARE messed up on the level of a clinically depressive, lightly suicidal, lolicon/shotacon aligned morbidly obese hikikomori vermin who sold his virginity to a prostitute and is currently living at the costs of his widowed mother after expending all the money he got from his father’s inheritance, all the while masturbating furiously to beast/furry dickgirl hentai, then be welcomed. Please feel free to get a serving at my antidepressants and also at the canned tuna I have stored in the fridge. There may be some cheese somewhere, and I am pretty sure I bought some juice the other day, but I have no idea where it is. Anyway. You may dislike what I write because of all the amauteur(ish) writing, or you may not. Who knows. Give it a try and write a comment. It gets lonely writing to no one. Also, feel free to grant me inspiration not only by making comments about the world and/or characters, but specially by suggesting a music for me to listen while I write the next chapter. Be warned : I do get influenced easily by the background music I listen while writing. If you exist, of course. I'm seriously doubting anyone has read anything after the "lolicon hikikomori" thing. Also, I have a tiny dick.Just so you can feel better about yourself a little more. Or maybe I have just degraded psychologically a little more and now I am into shame-play. I wonder if the psychiatrist would increase my meds a bit if I told her about it.Hope I never get to penispanick, though! Self-mutilation, especially of the castration type, would be baaaad. After all, I do like my prostitutes. And having sex with them when I can afford it. Oh, yeah, the story. I will just write the first chapter in a few moments.Until later, b(i)each.
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A sequel to Broken Pieces. It takes place three years after the events of the first one.
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