FIFTH TRIAL

[beautifultomorrow]

[As always, the elevator makes it’s journey once again to the club, and John’s voice can once again be heard.]

Cornelia Hale, she…

[But he trails off, soon interrupted by that same distorted voice.]

Y͘o͢u ͞r͘͝ea͏̧͟l͟ly̵ ̡dò͟n̕’t̛͞ ̵̡h́͢͟a̵̡͠v͘͞e͢ ̛t҉͟o̧ ͡do͘ ̸̵i͘t͏ ̛̀t̢͝h̸̸̵i͢͝͏ś͏ ̡̀t̴͝i̴͘m҉̷e͢,̸̀ ͝͠J͠o̸h̸͏n̴̢.̡

I know, but-

I̧t͜͡’͢s̢̢ ̀rȩal̀̕͝ly̶̢ ̴f̵̶͏i̸̕n͏͜e̡͞.҉̢͠

[At that, the elevator doors open once again to the Tip Top Club. With Ursula, Kylo Ren, and Cornelia’s photo’s now in grayscale, the room is starting to look a lot bigger now that so few people are still alive. John is still here, but he is very noticeably sitting further away from the tables sitting in front of the stage. He smiles when the guests enter, but it seems a little off. It’s hard to tell if all the death of innocent people is wearing on him or if he is just genuinely afraid of you guys.]

Feel free to take as much time as you want. I'll be right here if you have any questions.

Comments

[coulombslaw]

[Virgil takes a note out of his pocket. This trial...it's going to be awful, isn't it?]

Okay, let's do it. Uh...Cornelia was stabbed many times at some point during the morning. I heard the scream and I rushed to where she was, I found Sally there. [He turns his head towards Sally] And we tried to save her. It...it didn't work.

[Maybe if more people had helped instead of WATCHING MOVIES, DONALD, she'd have been saved!]

She wasn't able to say anything that could point at who attacked her -- or at least to me. Did she say anything before I got there, Sally?

[Pause before he extends the note]

I found this in the lobby: 'Another must die'. I dunno when it was left there, but there were footprints near this note. I think Oswald checked those footprints more than I did.

[darnsitall]

N-no, you didn't get there much longer after I did. I could've saved her if I had been faster.

[hallotween]

Who could the note be from?

[tadaishi]

Hey, Virgil--or Oswald, either one of you--you said there were footprints near the note, right? What did they look like?

[stenchus_rodentus]

[Ratigan looks at John and his Nonsense before eying the bar. God, these trials were tedious.]

...am I correct in assuming you're a true automaton?

[beautifultomorrow]

Audio-animatronic.

[darnsitall]

I tried to figure out the trap that... [killed Cornelia] You know, but I really couldn't make much sense of it. There were ropes attached to the knives, but they had been snapped off. I found more rope under one of the beds, and one of the ceiling fans was less dusty than the others, so maybe it was involved somehow?

[hallotween]

Who here is actually even capable of making that? I mean, I have a C average; I'd probably mess up even a simple trap.

[tadaishi]

The rope came from the cleaning supply room. I wonder if it was used as a trip wire...but that doesn't really explain the ceiling fan's role.

[Knives wouldn't work as a deadfall trap.]

[forgottenfounder]

[After a moment's consideration, Oswald brings out the bottle.]

I'm not sure how much this will help, but I found this in the lobby, in a trash can. It's probably poison.

[So keep Donald away from it.]

[darnsitall]

Poison again? But where could they have used it?

[tadaishi]

I'm not really sure if this is even related to the case, but in addition to the rope I found in the cleaning room, I also found scratches all over the walls and some hair left behind.

[lusito]

Really? What color was the hair?

[darnsitall]

And the scratches... do they look like one of us could have made them?

[forgottenfounder]

[Suddenly, there's some gazes upon Oswald. And for the first time in a while, he looks almost... nervous.]

Hold on fellas... Really, there's nothing wrong. I was in my room, and I went to sleep in the morning, but that's all.

[A twitch comes to one of his feet.]

Really, I didn't do anything out of the ordinary!

[MTB... start?]

[nocasetoobig]

[(x) MORE CONCERN]

[theduck]

Oswald, please. We don't want to think that you would do something like this, but we have to make sure.

What were you doing last night?

[darnsitall]

I can't blame you for not being able to sleep, considering everything we've been through.

[stenchus_rodentus]

Haven't you noticed how he seems always so...privy to knowledge we don't have?

meow meow

[nocasetoobig]

All right. Now that we know Oswald's been...[mole-ing. spying. GOING BEHIND THEIR BACKS]...doing all that, we still need to focus on who set the trap.

I guess...nobody but Oswald had any flour on their feet? So we need to look at the other clues. We have...a note whose nobody handwriting matches, some scratches, some black hair...a bottle of something? And the trap itself.

Did that hair match anybody's? [If it matches Oswald, he's fucking done]

[theduck]

Tadashi said the hair's most likely only going to match either him or Virgil-- they've both got black hair that's on the long-ish side.

Does anybody have any idea what that bottle is for? I don't think we've got any leads on it yet, and it could be an important link that we might be missing.

[coulombslaw]

I don't think there's a match yet, but because of the length and the footprints, it was thought it belongs to either me or...or Tadashi.

[Tadashi wouldn't kill someone again, right? Virgil hopes so]

confession time

[stenchus_rodentus]

If I can't win I'd rather be remembered for my genius!

Do you want to know who killed Cornelia?

[Laughs.]

From the brain that brought you the big bren aper
The head that made headline in every newspaper

And wondrous things like the tower bridge job
That cunning display that made London a sob

Now comes the real tour de force
Tricky and wicked of course

Poor Cornelia died but it was her time
Now that I'm at it again

An even grimmer plot has been simmering
This time I'll enjoy your pain~

Oh it was so easy, setting up the trap of knives, so ingeniously set up by a mere rope. But my real genius? The fake clues, Ursula's potion: all I needed was your weak minds spinning theories about werewolves and moles. I didn't even know who would die! All I needed was someone to die~

Why you ask?

Why you simper and moan in your purgatory, I have greater aspirations. There's a whole world off bombs and chemicals! Weapons beyond my time! Why shouldn't I be the one to invent these and sell them to the world? Imagine it, Mousedom armed with MY weapons! And I'm the one pulling the strings!

Why BASIL would be aghast!

YOU simply wanted to play the rules. But I won't be outdone! I'm the world's greatest criminal mind!!! I know what it takes to get what needs to be done!

[hallotween]

...

[sotto voce] Do they always sing?

VOTING TIME

[beautifultomorrow]

[John is quiet as he... just gently makes sure that Ratigan and Chip don't murder each other. He breathes a sigh of relief and stands up when it appears that's not the case.]

Well... I think it's about time for everyone to vote now.

[Don't mind him as he just keeps making sure that a murderous brawl does not break out.]

[nocasetoobig]

[he's still being held by Sally probably but at least he already wrote down Ratigan's name?]

One Rat in Search of an Exit

[grimgrinningghosts]

[No doubt that many will recognize the familiar landmark that materializes upon the stage. Big Ben herself appears - or at least, a very convincing replica that seems to tower above the gathered guests. The midsection of the clock has been exposed, revealing the device’s internal workings to all who view it.

As the cogs and gears inside the clock turn, doing their duty, Padriac Ratigan appears amongst them. Instinctively, he quickly realizes his predicament and leaps up to higher ground.

Once he is safely planted on a platform above the gears, he looks around and chuckles. Oh, this is just charming. What a pleasant scene! It’s not as though this terrain is unfamiliar to him, and he’s quite thrilled that something so theatric has been assigned to him.

He scratches at the walls, climbing up through the clockwork maze that had been laid out for him. These fools have given him close to a month of practice, and they don’t expect him to conquer this obstacle course? Why, this is mere child’s play! Surely, even our lovable Chippington could conquer such a simplistic platforming venture.

At last, Ratigan seems to venture to his goal. He’s close to the top of the clock now, close to his freedom. Freedom looks ever closer, and Ratigan chuckles. This is certainly no Tower of London, and the potential for escape looms ever closer. With swagger, he marches on across another platform, and it is there that he makes his fatal mistake.

Snap.

Ratigan trips. He gets up immediately, looking around with curiosity, piqued interest and just a little bit of fear. He realizes that something is...moving behind him. He looks behind him, noticing the snapped string that he must have tripped on. Suddenly, it hits him.

Boom. Twang.

He notices the plastic ball rolling down the wall behind him, the phonograph mounted on a platform high above him. It all fits together. The whole thing is a bloody trap, and he’s fallen prey to it. His mind is divided between two distinct thought processes. The first is that of a feral rat, screaming in anger. The second can only think of what a deliciously fitting end this will be.

Thunk.

The clock strikes, and a pendulum swings out towards the criminal mind. He only has a second to process that, before being struck. He is slammed into the wall by the pendulum, losing a bit of blood, before the pendulum moves away from the wall. He is peeled away from the wall, and falls, screaming, into the cogs.

Splat.

He is dazed for just a moment, leaving just enough time for the cogs to continue their work - with him on it.

There is a loud and violent crunch.

The cogs go on and on, smeared with blood. The remnants of a small bloodstained suit and opera cape hang uselessly.

And so ends the short, undistinguished career of Professor Padriac Ratigan.]

[keyofimagination]

[John looks horrified as he watches this, but he can’t find himself able to look away. When Ratigan finally dies, he looks like he’s about to be sick.

Rod suddenly speaks.]

…̨͢ ͠I̴̡’̨m ͝s̷͞o͏̧͡r̷̛͠r̡y̸ ̢͡J̢́ohn͘͘.̴͠ ̴̧͡ ̸͜͢Y̵ơ͟u͢ ҉͝c҉̴̕a̶҉n͡͝ ͟͝͠c̨̛͞o̡m̨̢̀e b̴a̡͘c҉͡k ͡ńo͜w.̛

You don’t have to apologize. I should have known what I was getting into.

R̷͢e̶̡͝g͞a͠r̛̀d̨̕̕l̶̛̕ę̷͠s̛s̷̶̸,̡͡ ͠y͞o̸u͡͠ ͏ne҉̶̷è̷͡d͟ ̢͠t̵̀͘o ́͜͝r͜ȩs̡t a͏f̵t͟͏e̕҉͘r ͜s̴̢ee҉̸i̷̛͘nǵ͞ a̢l̀̀l̸̷ ͡o͡f t̷͜h̀͞i͟s͝҉̴.

[And then, to the guests.]

… ͟Y͝҉ou͢ ͠à̢l̷̴l ͡͠d͡o, ̛͞r͢e͜͞ą̴l̨͏ly̴̡.̴͟ ͏̛ ̕͟I͘’͞l͟l͢ ͏͢t̀ry̶̡ ͜t̸͞o͜ ͢͡s̨͜e͏e̷̡͜ ̵͘͝i͠҉f ҉Í͏ ͟c͝a̧n͜͠ ̕͠àt͏͠ ̶͟͠l͜͞eá̡̛s͘͟͡t ̡h̵͡a҉v̷͠e͘͢ ̷̷̢a̛̕҉ ̡w͡e̡͢͠ek̡͏͜ ̴g̷o̕ ͜͏͏w̸i̶̛͏t̨́h͝ou̢ţ͢ ͠a͡ m̡͝ơt̴í̧͢v̧è̶.҉

[The elevator is now open.]