The Akretoh Beat (locked)

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(It is unnecessary to read the following bit of story. It is here to set the mood. Disregard this text wall.)

The clouds drizzled cold rain onto the darkened streets. There was no menacing lightening, or howling rain. The sky was apathetic, pissing on the slums of Akretoh.
It rained indiscriminately on gangsters, drug dealers and factory workers. The police-state seemed to have forgotten the crime-ridden streets and alleyways. A tall man in a long coat strolled down the sidewalk. He followed the unplanned, haphazard curves of the city, regarding the storm quite like it regarded him.
Dealers hid away their product, and others retreated inside as he passed. They spied the infamous symbol on his arm. The officer continued his walk into ever-poorer neighborhoods. Clothes were dirtier, and men were leaner. He passed sweatshops, pumping more smog out of leaning smoke-stacks. The streets here(If you could rightly call them “streets”), were narrow and winding. Finally, he reached his destination. He stopped in front of one of the few homes here. The officer brought his fist down heavily, three times. The rotten old door buckled with each impact, rattling its locks. He remained there, waiting. Soon, he was not content to wait.
He drew his revolver, and strolled down the nearby alley. The officer kicked a homeless man away from a side door. It was even more rotten and weak than the front. He brought his fist down three more times. The door soon opened, and an old man looked out. He was a balding old foreigner, with strange-colored skin. The officer scowled at him. He was lead inside quickly.
He denied the offer of tea from a middle-aged woman of the same ethnicity. He hated foreigners, and thus, loved his job. He sat on a crusty sofa in front of a dwindling fire. He was told that ‘Isaac’ was out right now, but he would be back soon. The officer removed his thick coat and fedora. He revealed purplish pale skin, and silver hair.
The family recognized the symbol, but pretended not to. They asked what the visit was for, while they knew quite well. Perhaps they are in denial, Xalem thought. His revolver was once more safely inside his holster, but never far from his hand. Revolutionaries have a habit of surprising you. That’s how they get an edge in this war. He waited patiently, reading their faces as they sat near him. They are hiding something.

“We can’t hide forever.”, Hosdov whispered. Isaac replied, “Well, we don’t need to.” They huddled together in the attic, hoping and preying to an illegal god. Their small cell had been running smoothly until one man tried to buy a gun from a sting operation. The band of rebels still hadn’t heard from their compatriot. Now they had sure news. Their brother-in-arms had cracked. They could guess what symbol was on the coat of the officer downstairs. Officer Helfling had dealt with rebels before. He knew their patterns. He had been hunting them for 2 years, following up leads from sting operations. Before every shoot-out he got the shakes. The doctor said it was nerves from the war. Xalem knew that he was scared out of his mind. He was about to face multiple opponents, possibly veterans, equipped with old scatter-guns and knives. All he had was a revolver and 5 years of service to The Crown. A hatch flung open on the ceiling, and a sub-machine gun appeared from it. Bullets whizzed through the air, bouncing off of the brick walls. Xalem was prone, aiming his revolver at a slight angle. He fired a single shot, straight through the musty boards. The body of a young laborer slipped through the hatch. A second soldier, somewhere in the attic, yelled something in their old language. The mother screamed something back, and the insurgent’s next utterance allowed Xalem to locate him. A single shot tore through the wood, and cut him off mid sentence. Xalem turned to the family, prepared to take them down. They simply frowned, defeated. After the intense sound of the gun-battle, the patter of the rain against the stone seemed almost soothing. It was cut short by his radio crackling to life.

This is Officer Helfling, reporting in from 22…Lawrence Lane, I have two dead males between the ages of 18 and 25. Slopan, probable rebels, shot dead after attempting to murder a federal agent. Requesting support, and a personal car.

 
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Welcome to Akretoh. You are a world-weary, cynical, racist federal agent in a 1940s police-state distopia. Your job, should you accept it, is to hunt down rebels. You need to stay sane, on the force, and (obviously) alive.

 
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You wake up, dreading the thought of another day.

You are in the dark, again. You read your obnoxious rattling alarm clock by the moonlight. 5:45, just like every other day since your promotion 2 years ago. You feel like you need one of those weird little pills the doctor gave you. You rise to face your window, completely naked. Maybe you should fix that before you head out.

Location: Xalem’s bedroom

Adjacent rooms:
Bathroom
Kitchen

Equipment:
Nothing

Needs:
Mental:
Cynicism: Livable
Racism: Average
Depression: Under-control
Addictions:
Strange Little Pill: Want Sightly
Alcohol: No need
Physical:
Sleep: Drowsy
Food: Hungry
Water: a bit dry

 
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Reserved

 
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Err… Look for clothes?

 
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Look for clothes, then head into the kitchen and drink some water and eat some food.

Throw away the pills in case you become addicted.

 
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(updating takes a long time. Ninja’d :( )
You stumble around your room in the dark, looking for your closet. You find it, and pull out a clean uniform. You put on all of its buckles and layers, cursing the department every step of the way. You finally have your uniform on, minus your heavy coat, shoes and hat. You lick your dry lips and slide on your shoes. The rest of your uniform is waiting by the door to your apartment.
Where will I go for breakfast today? There is the cafe that early-waking Officers frequent. I might see an old partner there. I’d best not risk it. There is also a nice Dean diner down the street from the apartment building. They are dirty and lazy, but I find the thought of a Dean tea and some roast sheep fairly appetizing right now.
What will you do now?

Location: Xalem’s bedroom

Adjacent rooms:
Bathroom
Kitchen

Equipment:
Department Uniform

Needs:
Mental:
Cynicism: Livable
Racism: Average
Depression: Under-control
Addictions:
Strange Little Pill: Want Sightly
Alcohol: No need
Physical:
Sleep: Drowsy
Food: Hungry
Water: a bit dry

 
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Look for the pill. If the pill can’t be found, go to the bathroom and look for the pill. If the pill can’t be found there either, go to the kitchen and look for the pill.

 
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You search your room for your bottle of pills. They are nowhere to be found. You walk into the bathroom and turn on the light. You are blinded by its intensity. Soon you manage to open your eyes and see the pills sitting on the sink ledge. You grimace, hoping one is enough to wake you up. Will you take the pill?

Location: Bathroom

Adjacent rooms:
Xalem’s Bedroom

Equipment:
Department Uniform

Needs:
Mental:
Cynicism: Livable
Racism: Average
Depression: Under-control
Addictions:
Strange Little Pill: Want Sightly
Alcohol: No need
Physical:
Sleep: Waking up
Food: Hungry
Water: a bit dry

 
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Look at the pill bottle’s label. If impossible, take one.

Go to the Bedroom, then the Kitchen. There, look for stuff you could make breakfast with.

 
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Go to the Dean diner and buy breakfast.

 
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- You look at the bottle questioningly. The name of the drug is an unpronounceable mess that nearly circles the entire bottle. It ends in -caine, you think. However unhelpful it is to you now, that piece of information may be important. You pop one in your mouth and take a swallow of water from the faucet. You quickly move into the kitchen to get breakfast. That pill put the pep back in your step. You open your refrigerator to find a bottle of whiskey. Not a promising breakfast. You open your breadbox to find a bagel. That might be better. You look through a few cabinets, and something doesn’t feel right about your uniform. You realize you don’t have your gun. You dart back into your bedroom and remove it from your gun-safe. You feel safer now. Back in the kitchen, you call it quits on the food-search. The Dean diner is your next destination. You throw on your coat and hat.
- You arrive and get a table. A man with a thick accent welcomes you to hurflegur or some such nonsense. While waiting on your roast, you notice some Slopans muttering to each other, glancing at you. You despise them, and so does every other Xalek. They are second-class citizens in Akretoh. No one important would mind if you taught them a lesson…

Location: Diner

Adjacent rooms:
Diner Kitchen
Akretoh Streets

Equipment:
Department Uniform
Service Revolver
8 Revolver Bullets

Needs:
Mental:
Cynicism: Livable
Racism: Average
Depression: Under-control
Addictions:
Strange Little Pill: no need
Alcohol: No need
Physical:
Sleep: Awake
Food: Hungry
Water: Satisfied

 
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Easedrop on the Slopans while waiting for your food to arrive.

 
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[Guys, any medical term that ends in -caine is a synthetic alkaloid anesthetic.]

Shoot the Slopans with the revolver and take their money. Then use it to buy as many bullets as possible(after eating your breakfast).

 
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You eavesdrop on them for a time. Your plate comes, and you are chewing your first bite. They stare at you. You stand, walk across the diner, and draw your revolver. The men freeze in their seats. You aim your gun directly at one of their heads. Your sanity snaps you back to reality. You put away your gun and put some bills on the counter. You take your breakfast on the go this morning.
You arrive at the station, and get up to your office. You have a few minutes to eat in peace before the rest of the agents show-up. Your secretary delivers your first assignment. You need to follow up on an insignificant lead. A popular radio show host has said some things about The Crown. He needs a visit from yourself and another officer to bring him back to reality. You wonder whether you are fit to do this, considering your incident this morning. There is another assignment you could do today. You could head over to a certain paper mill in the slums that has not been inspected in nearly a year. Who knows what you might find…

Location: Xalem’s office

Equipment:
Department Uniform
Service Revolver
8 Revolver Bullets

Needs:
Mental:
Cynicism: Livable
Racism: Average
Depression: Under-control
Addictions:
Strange Little Pill: no need
Alcohol: No need
Physical:
Sleep: Awake
Food: Satisfied
Water: Satisfied

 
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Time to go to the Paper Mill.

 
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Read files on the Popular Radio Show Host during the travel to the Paper Mill.

 
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Paper Mill is shit. Let’s go and teach that host a lesson.

 
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You decide to tackle both. You are feeling ambitious today. You pull some files about Kelex Telford, and read them in your car.
Who will I take with me to meet the host? I could bring a young recruit. Or I could call up an old friend for a favor…
Kelex Telford is a popular radio show host from North Fielding. He has run the Telford Show for 3 years. He currently lives at 5530 Xolom Lane. The street name for this area is Silver Point.
You arrive at the mill to find it in disrepair. That is not to say it is not still running. It was ably manned by a dozen children and one cruel overseer.
You draw out your clip board and walk around the facility. You are done in a few hours. You feel sorry for these kids. They may be Slopan, but you can’t help but feel scared on their behalf. This place will kill them soon, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it. They can just keep the machines going and stay out of trouble. You feel the same way about your job. Where are you headed off to now?

Location: Paper mill

Needs:
mental:
Cynicism: Jaded
Racism: Average?
Depression: under control
addictions:
Strange little pill: no need
Alcohol: no need
physical :
Sleep: awake
Food: satisfied
Water: satisfied

 
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Go to get a young recruit to help with the Kelex Telford case.

 
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Get a rookie to help you with this case.

 
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Originally posted by GotterakaThing:

Get a rookie to help you with this case.