TJESJE 2018/08/17(Fri)16:39 No. 897603 ID: f0088f
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It's maybe two, two-thirty in the afternoon. I don't really need to eat, but I do sometimes anyways because it feels fun.

Really debating on smashing some eggs into my teeth like humans do when the phone rings from somewhere in my blankets.

Dag.

Find your phone and answer it, eating whole eggs can come later

Yeah, better get that. What happened last night?

>>897603
Best answer it, then.

Probably look in your blankets.

Also, the answer to the question posed by the title is "yes" btw.

TJESJE 2018/08/17(Fri)18:17 No. 897628 ID: f0088f
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>What happened last night?
Oh, uh, last night? Not sure, actually. Probably went to the bar. Never had anything that gave me this bad a headache, though.

Ugh. Gah. I pull my blankets off my bed until the phone hits the ground with a good clunk. I look for the green horn while listening to bugs scuttering off my mattress.

"Yeah?"

The other side explodes just when a cockroach plops to the ground. "Where the fuck are you? I've been calling for hours! Swear to god, Kindle, if you're not out here-"

"Good morning, Copper." I pick some dirt out of my finger joints. "Need me for something?"

There's a tinny sigh at the other end. "There's been another one. East-end Yokum line. We need you over here two hours ago, dickweed."

I marvel for some five seconds at the fact I'm somehow still on the case after last time. "Sure. You gonna pay my cab fare? Since you haven't paid me in, uh, ever. Never."

I hear a dial tone. Great conversation. To the point.

TJESJE 2018/08/17(Fri)18:17 No. 897629 ID: f0088f
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I'm at the corner of the west side, just at the edge of town. The Yokum line is, like, a twenty minute full-speed cab ride.

It's raining, and I'm a skeleton.

You're a nude skeleton, wear some damn clothes dude.

do you have a bike? or a raincoat? maybe you could cycle there!

you could also just take a cab and then steal money from copper to make up for it. it's fine. you can just do that

>>897629
Put on a yellow raincoat.

And your eyeframes. You know, those things you put on to make it look like you have eyeballs.

Wipe the graffiti off your face and get dressed.

what happened last time? also, yes, you should definitely have a yellow raincoat

Are you some kind of Detective?

TJESJE 2018/08/18(Sat)15:26 No. 897781 ID: f0088f
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A detective? I guess, maybe.

I don't get you humans' obsession with clothes. Didn't when I was one either. But then it was always, sir, you have two seconds to clothe your wang or I'm gonna have to remove it. Now I don't have a wang at all.

It occurs to me I can just take a cab and tell them who to go to to collect. Copper may have huge pointy teeth, but I have no skin.

For some reason I do have a yellow raincoat, and I do wear it out in the rain. I have brittle bones, y'know.

TJESJE 2018/08/18(Sat)15:26 No. 897782 ID: f0088f
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I stand outside, barely off the curb, with my hand meekly outstretched like a baby rat. That's how you really get the best cabs, I hear.

It's a miracle Copper's still got my number in his phone. I shove myself in the back of a dingy cab. My femur sticks to the seat. Unintentional comment about his dead husband aside, I was pretty sure I hadn't contributed much so far. Maybe I'll buy him a coffee. He drinks 'em, pretty sure. Maybe I should get one too. Means I can talk less and when it trickles down my ribs people laugh. It’s a riot.

TJESJE 2018/08/18(Sat)15:27 No. 897783 ID: f0088f
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I arrive to Copper waiting for me. He grunts and pays the cab driver, who unleashes several unearthly grunts and a litre of throat slime, and drives off.
"What do you need a paycheck for anyways?" Copper says, walking past the tape. "You don't eat."
I shuffle after him, ignoring the looks of the officers on duty. "I pay rent!"
Copper laughs, uproariously. Okay, so I don't pay rent. I live in my old house hoping someone else doesn't want to live in it.
Don't think they will.

TJESJE 2018/08/18(Sat)15:27 No. 897784 ID: f0088f
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Ah, there sure is a body over there.

>>897784
Is there someone occupying it? Inspect the body.

Is this a murder, or a resurrection?

Fair amount of flesh on that skeleton there. Hard to say what caused that. Get closer to find out.

Why does he keep calling you up to help with this stuff? Is he expected you to commune with the guy's skeleton or something? That's kind of offensive.

oh no, they were handsome. take a minute to reflect on the ephemeral nature of mortals

>>897784
So are you here to solve the murder? Is there a reason you can't wait and ask their ghost or skeleton once they're up and about?

TJESJE 2018/08/19(Sun)10:54 No. 897966 ID: f0088f
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>Is there a reason you can't wait and ask their ghost or skeleton once they're up and about?
Yeah. Nobody remembers. Sometimes we pick up bits and pieces, people who recognise us from when we had meat, but we don't remember. I know a girl, Mettle? She found her old diary and now she pretends to have all her old memories. People pay her big money for middle school stories. Goes on talk shows and everything. Diary doesn't cover high school and beyond, apparently.

I squat next to the body. That’s definitely a dead guy. Like, looks like a person, guy. A human person. i don’t remember the last time I saw a real person. They don’t really like to visit, on account of half the population being undead and the other half having more eyes than they do. Ah, mortals. So ephemeral. Rotting all the time and with tiny little flesh limbs, and only one heart, and dead before you know it. So dumb.

This human, it just has two eyes, and hands. And a massive stab wound in the gut. That’d do it.

“Kindle. Oy, Kindle.” Copper leans in next to me, sitting on his haunches and handing me a pair of gloves. “Anyone on your way here tell you you look fucking stupid in that coat?”
“I’ve got brittle bones, Cop.” There's residue under this guy's fingernails, but forensics probably got that already. What am I supposed to be doing again?
“Yeah, yeah. Pale Gouda-”
“What, like the cheese?”
“I guess like the cheese. 26. Discovered this morning by a cat. Lived over there, with the blue curtains.” Copper points at a window directly above where you're standing now. “No immediate family, great-aunt out of country.”
Dingy walls, moth-eaten curtains, doors that wouldn't last to the end of the month. Six windows on either side of the alley. I'm sure that if I'd ask, they'd say no elevator. Like most of us on the outstretches of town, poor.
“We think he killed himself,” Copper continues.
I let my distaste show as obviously as I can. “He didn't, obviously.”
Copper sighs, his throat rattling. “Obviously.”

TJESJE 2018/08/19(Sun)10:54 No. 897967 ID: f0088f
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Bruising, hidden by the fabric of some dumb black sweater, smaller bruises, and very large bruises. Either this guy had a fight not long before he died, or, y’know. A kink. Far be it for me to judge. Not kinky is cutting someone open from navel to nipple and, uh… wow, taking their organs, huh. Alright. I guess a guy could do that himself. No signs of necromancy, no signs of life. Not even a little.
I get up and dust off my kneecaps, finger joints click-clacking against them. Copper’s still looking at the dead guy’s shoes.

“Hey Cops? -

A) Why am I here?
B) Something, something, dead husband, something.
C) Something actually useful.
D) Fuck around on the crime scene.
E) I hate you, you’re not my dad and I’m going home.
F) ?

>>897967
>C
What do we know about the victim? Are they local? (If so, what do they do)? Are they visiting? (If so, who and where and why)?

Any known associates? (Assuming it's not random violence, or some kind of hate crime, the murderer would have had to have some kind of connection to have a reason to kill the poor sap).

>A

What makes us the right person to do this job?

>C
Because A is obvious, considering they think he killed himself. Maybe they didn't need you specifically, just anyone better than painfully incompetent, but hey you fit.

Which brings us to asking why they would think it's a suicide, or if they have any obvious evidence classified as unimportant.

can we D) fuck around on the crime scene until we C) find something useful?

C: "What on earth made you guys think suicide? Before you found out about the bruises and missing organs, that is."
Also:
"Does anyone have a use for organs in this city or something? Having to track down a major parts trafficking operation is gonna suuuuuuck. Hate those kinds of conspiracy cases."
And otherwise:
"Anyways, someone should contact the great aunt. Where's that cat?"

TJESJE 2018/08/25(Sat)20:52 No. 899084 ID: f0088f
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>What on earth made you guys think suicide?
A lot of crime happens in this town. Most of us are creatures, dead, undead, you name it, so a lot of shit gets written off as out of hand bar fights or an emotional outburst while doing taxes. Not great police-work. Makes me wonder what I’m not paying taxes for.

"Hey Cops? Think this guy was killed." Copper looks like he wants to use your arm bones to get those bits of pulled meat from in between his teeth. I need my arm bones. "And looks like he got killed by someone who doesn't know how much blood human people have."

Copper takes his foot out of the pool of blood. It sticks a little. “Does seem a little disproportionate.”

“Humans have much more blood than this, Cops. Looks like he wasn't killed here. This blood probably isn’t his, either.” I look back up at the apartment window. “Did you guys check the apartment yet?”

“Yep. No blood, no signs of struggle, no anything. Just a floor mattress and a book bag. Guy was a poet, apparently. Some diaries too.”

TJESJE 2018/08/25(Sat)20:52 No. 899085 ID: f0088f
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“Well,” I can’t form the dead poet’s society joke fast enough and the moment passes.I lift the guy’s shirt back up. “Bruising like that isn’t gonna appear any other time than before death. Was probably cut open and had his living people bits removed then too. Has there any talk of organ trade around the underground lately?”

Copper leans in very close, long nose nearly touching the frayed skin. “Not that I’ve noticed. I’ll ask around. Hope to Hell it’s not a major trafficking case.”

I nod. Definitely haven’t ever worked any of those. “Yep, those suck. Hey, where’s that cat? The one who found this guy. I’m sure Jules did a great job questioning that one. Shock blanket and everything. Cup of cocoa.”

“She’s- she’s asleep on the garbage container.” Copper pinches his eyes shut. “Only said she was passing through and how hard it was to not eat at least a finger. Not a lot of help.”

“Speaking of big helps.” For shits and giggles, I do try to push Coppers nose into the body. Just a little fun prank. “You know I’m not gonna always come running when you call right? Can’t keep me around forever. I don’t really work for you. That one time was kind of an accident.”

Copper does shove me to the ground. “I know.”

“Alright, well.”

Awkward.

“As long as you know.”

TJESJE 2018/08/25(Sat)20:53 No. 899086 ID: f0088f
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Behind us, there’s a bit of noise, protesting from Jules, who sucks at his job, or whatever. I try to look at what’s up by craning my neck as far back as it can to save myself the trouble of turning my skull instead, but all I get is an eyeful of clouds.

I roll around instead when Copper splutters, a chorus of voices joining in from the back of his throat. I see a pair of shoes. They’ve got to be a popular brand, though, ‘cause they’re pretty similar to-

“Hey fellas, what’s going on h- oh, man! That’s a dead guy!”

oh boy. i'm guessing this doesn't normally happen, based on copper's reaction? anyway, say something cool and casual, like, uh, "it sure is!!!"

>>899086
You are a skeleton, so maybe they're talking to you. It's rude to judge by appearances like that, though.

>>899086
Yes, that's your dead guy. Welcome to the world of the unliving.

oh! hello there! greet them and ask their name 'n' stuff.

we should try to be delicate -- if we tell them they're dead right out the gate without warming up to it, they might freak out, and that's no good for an investigation.

"Alright, firstly; everything's alright. No need to panic. Your revival case is an odd one, so I'm gonna have to ask; do you have any memories? Like, of your former life or anything. Oh, uh, yeah, and stay calm. Remember to stay calm... and, uh... welcome to unlife?"

TJESJE 2018/09/06(Thu)13:55 No. 900712 ID: f0088f
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I quickly push Copper face-first into the corpse. “It sure is! Hilarious.” I keep my hand on the back of Copper’s head. There’s muffled yelling, which is pretty great. I decide to try to fish around a little. “Do you live around here? Wander onto crime scenes often?”
The ghost seems pensive, his lips pouting and brow furrowing. “I don’t think so, to both of those. I’m just walking around! Are you guys cops?”
“Uhhhh, he is. Me?” I don’t think so. Never went to cop school, for cops, so I don’t think I qualify. Did read a lot of detective novels though. “Nah. Consultant, maybe.” I let go of Copper and he wisely hovers above the body, obscuring the face. Maybe letting this guy know he’s standing in front of himself but gutted isn’t the best way to let him know. Don’t really know what is, though.
“Cool!” The ghost of Pale seems to genuinely mean it. “I don’t think I’m anything! I don’t know where I live. It’s just like I sprang fully formed from the gutter wearing this sweater. Do I have to wear this forever, d’you think? I mean, I like it, I just might want some variation in wardrobe sometimes.”
He seems pretty cool about the whole thing, which I guess comes with the territory. I don’t remember being cool about anything, though. “Uh, don’t freak out but I think you’re gonna be okay. Do you know your name?”
His face scrunches up comically. “Maybe. Does it start with an L?”
Awesome. Gotta think very carefully about your next move, Kindle.

counter with "i don't know, DOES it?" how long is it, how many syllables, etc? go full twenty questions on this poor bastard. in a chill way.
the safest bet for both him and us is guiding him into trying to remember it by himself. any suggestion we make could fuck it up, since his subconscious would latch onto it, even though we have no way of knowing.

also, it could be different since he's ghost and we're skelly, but reassure him that you can wear different clothes so it'll probably be fine

get him to try and write his name? sometimes amnesiacs retain the muscle memory of doing their signature.

honestly, he seems so cool about it that maybe we can just let him look at the body.

can we get a look at the papers and diaries this guy left behnd? surely he'd at least have a pen name for his poetry, we could start from there and see what else we can figure out about him

let him know you haven't had trouble with clothes. if it's different for ghosts, maybe you can just uhhhh. get a friend who's willing to hold shirts up in front of you

steer him away from the body and ask him grounding questions, maybe? if his memory is gone it might not help but if he's dissociating, it could! ask what day it is, and what year, ask if he knows where he is, etc.

>>900721
this too!

Have him complete whatever nebulous name he had in his head like >>900715 says, in case it's related to the case, then do >>900721 and >>900752, in that order. After that, try to ease him into the whole "you're dead" thing. Then slowly ease him into the "you're that dead guy specifically," and then let him decide if he wants to see. After we're done with all that, have someone else stay with him while we handle something more urgent; interviewing that cat before it gets bored and wanders off.

Also... "crawled out of a gutter?" What? Is that normal for ghosts? Unless it is, I say get Copper on getting that ghost to lead some guys to wherever he manifested. Could lead us right to the actual scene of the crime. Also ask around the area later for suspicious vehicle sightings, since it doesn't look like this guy was dragged.

Tell him you better talk outside. This is a crime scene, after all.

Then ask him if he believes in life after death.

TJESJE 2018/10/24(Wed)14:50 No. 908136 ID: f0088f
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>"also... "crawled out of a gutter" What? Is that normal for ghosts?"
Pretty sure. Something about your soul violently detaching from your body that makes it wake up not that close to it. I woke up at a truck stop. Though I'm not incorporeal, duh. Sometimes undead wake up next to their bodies, though I don't know if that's lucky or just, y'know... If that sucks ass.

>"Ask him if he believes in life after death."
It'd be a little hard not to, I guess, unless you're catastrophically ignorant. Over half the population of this town was alive once, and now aren’t anymore. Or never were, sometimes. We're mostly life after death. Heaven? Don't know about that one. I've heard of ghosts growing faint, though, forgotten or just... losing strength. Electricity. and disappearing. Whatever comes next isn't my business.


I hesitate, searching this guy's face for any signs of vague recollection. "Ddddoooees it?"
"Dunno!"
I make a noise. This is probably useless, but, "was it a long one? short one? Anything about cheese?"
The ghost just laughs, airy, strange, not really there but definitely audible. Wispy, I think. "Cheese? That'd be awful. I'd want to be something like, euh, well. I guess being called Sentinel would be pretty neat. Or the Groomsman of the Crypt. Something fitting, y'know?"
"Haha, yeah." Definitely useless. "Uh, also," I look back at Copper, who's trying to cover the body with his body. Subtly. "I mean, you're a lot more... uh. I mean, a lot more, uh... ghosty than I, but as you can see, I have no problem with wearing things." I pull at the pockets of my raincoat to demonstrate. "Know where we are?"
The ghost looks around, like he just remembered be barged into a crime scene. He says, "somewhere kind of bleak, yes?" then, "a little bit depressing," and finally, "and next to a dead guy."
"All true things. Uh, day of the week?"
He frowns. "Sunday?"
This was a stupid thing to ask, and I don't know the answer to it either. Maybe it is Saturday. Dumbass. I clap my hands together, phalanges and metacarpals loudly clacking together in the mostly quiet alleyway. "So like, you're a ghost, right?"
He looks at me, nodding. The movement of his head makes it seem like he's shifting, his body moving from one place to another without really moving. It feels like I'm staring at a strobe light.
"So, uh. You know how ghosts are, uh..." Eloquent! Great! Awesome! "How they sometimes... How they come from alive people?"
"Yep!"
"So that means, you know. That you also were once an alive people."
"Whaaaaaaaat," the ghost replies. "Nooooooo."
"Really, it's true. And the just really great thing is that we know just pretty much exactly where your once alive person is right now."
He tries to grab my hands, but hasn't learnt how to focus on them and they phase directly through. It'd be cold and a little clammy if I could feel it, so I’ve been told. He stares at where his hands are directly through mine, baffled. "No waaaaay," he says.
"Way. Way." Hard part. "So, you died, right?"
A frown. "Huh? I mean, I guess. I mean, I'm here now though, right?"
It's starting to dawn on me that maybe this guy is just a little bit stupid. Like, he's definitely loopy from the dying part, and he'll get a little better over the next week, but he's definitely just also a little bit stupid. "Yeah, but dead. You got killed."
"Oh." His mouth forms the letter, and they're quiet for a little bit. Behind them, the cat jumps off the garbage container, stretches languidly, and sniffs the fingers of the corpse, peeking out from Cooper's suit jacket. The ghost's eyes follow it. "Well, I guess if I had to go, that's... Well, it's a way!"
It is a way. "Sooooooo," I nudge Copper with my calcaneus. "You're this guy. Not the one with the teeth, but the dead guy. The one the teeth guy has his elbows on."
"Huh!" He squints, trying to get a look. "At least I had good shoes. Have! I've still gottem!"
Alright, well. I guess that's as good as I can be at telling a dude he got murdered. "You've sure still gottem. But you're dead. And that's your body. You're a ghost. From a dead person."
"Yep!"
Alright! Well, nice. I learnt absolutely nothing!

TJESJE 2018/10/24(Wed)14:50 No. 908137 ID: f0088f
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It occurs to me Copper'd probably let me have a look-see around our guy's apartment. I don't know if bringing the ghost of him along would be a great move, but I also maybe feel a little bit weird about leaving him to his own devices. Ghosts and skeletons, people don't really notice us. Which is sometimes great, and sometimes, when it comes to social or economical standing. Anything else rules though. Except for those. It'd be great if this guy could somehow just know that he's of lower social standing even than when he was alive and be great at dealing with it.
"Cops," I mutter over my shoulder. "Try asking the cat if there were any unfamiliar smells around. If she's from here regularly, she might just know." I hesitate, thinking. Then add, "and find out about cameras. From buildings, dashcams, anything that might've caught what made this guy end up from his murder scene all the way up here. Cars, vans. Whatever."
Copper growls. "A please would work."
"Dock it off my pay. Can I have the apartment key?"
He presses it into my palm. Awesome. Time to pretend at being a crime solver.
The keys have a small, carved number on it. 21a. When I start walking out of the alley and around the building to get to the front entrance, I don't have to decide whether or not to call ghost boy to follow, because he just does. He clearly has a bit of trouble with the fact his legs aren't really necessary to keep him up and moving anymore, shoving them uselessly in place instead of just willing himself to float. When he catches up, he immediately starts talking. "Where're we going? Is there food? I'm real hungry. What're you a consultant for? You hang around other dead people a lot?"
Well.

“we’re heading to your apartment, so i hope you had food around.” (is it normal for a ghost to want to eat? even if it isn’t, just act like it is.)
you consult on alive people becoming not-alive people, and.... honestly, kindle, it seems to me like you don’t hang around with much of ANYONE, dead or otherwise.
and uhhh. ask him if he just wants to keep using his alive-person name. it’s cute.

"We're heading up to your apartment to look for clues. I'm a police consultant, which in this case means I'm supposed to help figure out who did this to the alive person that you used to be - that being the poet once known as Pale Gouda - so the police can apprehend them, because making an alive person... not alive; that's a crime, in case you didn't know. By the way, you cool with keeping that name?"

(So wait, if the living can't see you guys... are dead people even suspects? What are you actually doing here, if it can be left to the living police? Or did you only mean that literally, and the living know your kind is roaming about even if they can't always see it? On another note; Pale is so precious.)

OUR name is Kindle.