Deadman

I fell in line behind Rhea and she started walking me toward the Mausoleum in a similar direction to the one I’d already been heading. Unlike the other Undertakers I’d seen since I’d arrived back in Pott’s she was wearing a simple blue wrap rather than the black of her profession. It’s not like Undertakers were obligated to wear black while actually in Pott’s, but most of them preferred to do so.

After our footsteps started to match in rhythm she spoke up. “The kid’s okay. The one we found in Springfield.”

I nodded. “Good”

“I heard what you did there. To their mayor. Figured you’d want to know that the kid was okay.”

I took a breath. “Thank you.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence until we reached the town center. There was a building with an undertaker standing outside, this one wearing his color of office. I approached him.

“The guy inside?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. He’s working at the moment.”

“You’re letting him work?”

She nodded. “I don’t think it’s our guy. You’ll see when you go in.”

I grimaced, but went to open the door. I paused before I did and gave Rhea a nod. She returned it with a smile, and took a place on the other side of the door.

I walked in and found my senses immediately flooded with the smells of meat and blood. I heard a swift thud, followed by another, then another in a rhythmic pattern. There was a counter in front of me, and behind that was a man facing away. He was lifting a large cleaver and bringing it down in solid, strong motions, onto a pile of meat in front of him. I took a step toward him and he stopped, placing the cleaver down and grabbing a rag which he started to wipe his hands with as he turned around. He was wearing an apron, covered in blood, and a mostly red wrap beneath it. He smiled as saw me.

“You Donovan? The one they said was going to want to question me?”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

He finished wiping his hand and held it out. “I’m Pete.”

I reached out and gave it a shake, noticing as I did that he was missing two fingers, the scars on the nubs looked as if it had happened a long time ago.

He noticed me looking. “Had an accident awhile back with a knife. I uh, do my best not to have accidents anymore.”

I nodded. “You’re a butcher I take it?”

His smile widened. “How could you tell?”

“It wasn’t easy.”

That drew a short chuckle from him.

“I’m guessing the reason you were seen covered in blood was your work?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Do you usually work that time of day?”

He shrugged. “I work all hours. I supply a lot of the restaurants around here, and with no two pieces of meat ever being the same, I sometimes need to work more hours and sometimes less. A cow with three heads takes a much longer time to butcher than an alligator with no legs, you feel me?”

I nodded, that made sense. I took a deep whiff of the butcher shop, I could tell that the meat was mostly stored in a cooled cellar below us. I also couldn’t distinguish any of the blood and meat from any other. There was so much of it, that it seemed to cloud my senses, and I could feel my stomach aching for a bite.

Pete’s expression changed just a little, and he turned around and went back to the meat he’d been butchering. He took a piece of paper and wrapped some of it up, then returned to the counter and handed it to me. “I don’t like for people to leave here hungry with nothing to eat. That's a pig heart. One of three I found when I was butchering a hog this morning. It’s all yours, on the house.”

I took it and nodded. I didn’t think this was my guy. Who has a better excuse for being covered in blood than a butcher? Still, I should at least ask a few questions of him. “You’re aware of the murder I assume.”

Pete frowned and turned his gaze downward. “I am. Terrible thing. I don’t think I’ve heard of anything like that ever happening before.”

“Not a lot of experience with death huh? You raised here your whole life?”

He nodded. “Taken as a baby from somewhere in STAR territory.”

“Ever left? Tried your hands at being an undertaker?”

He shook his head.

“Did you know the victim?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Who was it?”

“A woman named Lydia.”

He shook his head. “Nope, can’t say I did.”

I sighed. The bloody handprint had more than three fingers, he had a reason to have been covered in blood, and had no clear connection to the victim. Looks like I wasn’t just going to get lucky with this investigation. “Well, thank you for answering my questions. I don’t think you’re our guy, but don’t go anywhere, alright?”

He nodded.

I gave him a tip of my hat and walked out. Rhea and the other Undertaker were still at the door. “I think you’re right. This guy seems harmless. I’d like someone to keep an eye on him just in case, but that’s your call.”

They nodded.

“Do you know if ‘The Last Meal’ is still open?” I asked.

Rhea shook her head. “They would’ve been closed for hours now. Why?”

“That was the victim's place of work. I thought it may give me more leads. I’ll have to check it out in the morning. Let the Undertakers know I’ll be sleeping at Nico’s place.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like that.” She held up her hand in an ‘it’s not my business’ fashion and I sighed. “Are the Undertakers going to be patrolling at night or anything like that?”

The other Undertaker shook her head. “We think it’s an isolated incident. Besides, we don’t want to scare people.”

I shook my head. “I guess that’s your business, but I’d worry more about the effect another body could have on morale rather than what having a few armed people on the streets could do.” I agreed that it was probably a one-off killing, but I wished the rest of the city could be a bit more paranoid. Guess it came from the safety they were so used to at this point.

I secured my hat, and nodded at the undertakers before I started making my way toward Nico’s. I checked my notifications as I walked,

Congratulations Citizen! You have earned a rank in Investigation! Here in the US we have the right to question everything, except freedom!

That wasn’t entirely unexpected. I pulled up the rest of my sheet.

Citizen: Donovan

5th Level Postman/ 5th Level Marshall

Patriot Points: 287

SPINES: Be the backbone of America!

Strength- 24

Perception- 19

Intelligence- 14

Nationalism- 4

Endurance- 23

Speed- 17

Job Abilities:

Neither Rain, Sleet, Nor Snow: You are unhampered by adverse weather

Express: You gain a 5% bonus to movement speed

Special Delivery: You can mark a delivery ‘special’ which will allow you to track it.

Under Cover: You may retain your previous class and those with the ability to read previous classes will see whichever class you choose to show.

You're Under Arrest: You may temporarily remove all job-based bonuses from a target to ease apprehending them.

Freeze: Incapacitate a single target for one minute

The Eyes of the Law- Detect another citizen’s job

Federal Authority: You cannot be affected by the abilities of other unless you choose to be

Skills:

Walking- 35

Pistol- 10

Loading/unloading- 22

Customer Service- 14

Driving- 5

Melee Weapons- 6

Long Guns- 8

Investigation- 10

Tracking- 3

Virus:

Deadman- Bonus to all physical stats +5, negative to social-based skills

Natural weapon- Teeth

Night Vision

Accelerated Healing

Enhanced Stamina

I didn’t know of anyone else who had quite as many abilities as I did at this point. It was probable that Leah or Graves did, but I doubted they’d be willing to let me access their sheets.

I hit a turn onto Nico’s street and hesitated. There was one place that I realized I should make a brief stop at before I went any further. I turned around and made my way towards the eastern part of Pott’s, eventually, I came to an all-black painted dome, with images of skulls and music notes painted across it. I’d reached Deux’ house.

I knew he was away because if he’d been in town I likely would’ve already been subjected to his presence. I opened the door, it was unlocked which is never a surprise in Pott’s, though that may well change soon. The inside was the usual cluttered mess it always was. Deux collected a lot of junk, and really enjoyed doing so. I took a deep whiff and started searching. It took awhile, but in his kitchen, inside an old record sleeve, I found several handfuls worth of my instant coffee. I took all of them back, save a single one which I emptied onto one of the counters in his kitchen, then placed the empty wrapper on top of it. Satisfied with my work, I exited the house and made my way back to Nico’s.