The vampires demeanour soon relaxed at the introduction, a signature smirk pulling at the corners of her lips as that familiar accent fell upon her keen ears. Extending a cool hand out to him, “Pleasure to finally meet you, Matt.” She grinned, “I’m Lexi.” She offered, feeling no need for formalities given the relaxed setting and the lack of collar around his lovely neck. She was certainly intrigued by the mans confidence, “Would you like to join me for a drink? Surely, you wouldn’t let a lady drink alone now would you Matt?” She teased softly, hand gesturing out to the empty seat beside her.
Written transcript of video interview HPD-08-05-89-I-WIL.
For your eyes only.
Case: HPD-07-31-89-KEA - Local teen - Possible homicide - Ongoing investigation
Date: 08-05-1989
Players:
Detective Matthew Anderson - mid-thirties - Seasoned detective. Years on the job have given him a welcoming affect, unlike Det. Whitney, who just pisses people off (useful in its own right). Whitney on standby if needed
Naomi Wilder - 25 - Runs local gym, inherited from late sister (see notes). Obviously cared for victim. Forthcoming during questioning in Case HPD-02-16-81-WIL. Clear she has a temper—see court report for details
Larissa Kearney is here don’t ignore me i’m here i’m here i’m
Setting: A dingy but moderately sized interview room at the station with a small METAL TABLE and TWO CHAIRS. NAOMI sits in the far chair, legs crossed, picking at a nail. DET. ANDERSON enters from right with FILE in hand.
Naomi straightens up, rising to shake the Detective’s hand.
DET. ANDERSON: (affable) Thanks for being here. I know it’s inconvenient, so we’ll try to get it over with as quickly as possible.
Naomi smiles curtly.
NAOMI: Of course. Any way I can help.
Anderson opens the file and scans through its contents.
ANDERSON: You were Laris̴s̶á K͏ea̧rne̡y’s self-defense instructor for six years, is that right?
NAOMI: That’s right.
ANDERSON: How well do you believe she learned your material? Do you see any reason she was unable to fend off whoever hurt her?
NAOMI: She was one of my best students. Lar͠is҉s̸a has changed a lot since we first started training, but she rarely ever missed a class and she’s knocked me on my ass more times than I can count. I don’t doubt she could defend herself if she had to. But I… I don’t think this was about fighting.
ANDERSON: What do you mean?
NAOMI: Well, you know, she got older. She… stopped smiling. Started catching rides home with strange people more than with her brother. Like she was—coming unraveled at the edges.
ANDERSON: So, when was the last time you saw her?
NAOMI: It was right after class. She was kind of off, I guess. Look, sparring her—the girl punched like she was on fire. And she was. There was something driving her to punch harder, strike faster. I don’t know what it was, but now I wish I did.
ANDERSON: Maybe she was intending to fight someone.
NAOMI: I don’t think so. She was always intense like that, since she was a kid. Like she had something to prove. I liked it because it was a challenge, but the older she got, the more she demanded. That night, though, all the spirit had gone out of her. She was sloppy. She didn’t care. I tried not to take it personally—everyone has their off days.
ANDERSON: Who picked her up from class that night?
NAOMI: I don’t know. Her brother had been picking her up a lot more recently, and I was excited because I thought maybe they were spending more time together. But I didn’t see anyone there when she left. You can always tell because if there is, the headlights shine through the windows.
Anderson shifts in his seat, writes something down in his NOTEPAD.
ANDERSON: Did you try to give her a ride home?
NAOMI: Of course I did. But L̍̓a̢r̍̄̀ͨ̐i͗̎͑ͯ́s͏sͯ̊̋̐ͪ̀a͂͢ didn’t do that—she didn’t take favors from people, even when she needed them.
ANDERSON: I get what you mean. So, you mentioned she was “off” in class. How so?
Naomi is quiet. Her eyes flick to the CORNER of the room for but a moment.
NAOMI: ... I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Her eyes were… glazed over, like her body was in the ring but her brain was somewhere else. And she was—high. I don’t know on what. But she always fought differently when she was high.
ANDERSON: High? Was that a regular thing for her?
NAOMI: No, it had only happened a few times, and only recently. I don’t think it was a new habit though... maybe she was just getting sloppy.
ANDERSON: That night, do you think she feared for her life?
Naomi’s back goes rigid. She looks a little more toward the CAMERA, at the corner of the room, but quickly looks back at Anderson.
NAOMI: Well… uh…
ANDERSON: Ms. Wilder?
NAOMI: Um, could I get some water? My throat is really dry.
Anderson squints at her.
ANDERSON: Alright. I’ll be right back.
As soon as Anderson’s back is turned, Naomi’s attention snaps back to the corner. Her hands tighten around the edges of her chair, white-knuckled. Her gaze seems to follow something above eye-level partway across the room, ending at the Detective’s chair.
Det. Anderson enters, holding a WATER BOTTLE.
ANDERSON: Here you go.
Naomi springs up and takes the bottle.
NAOMI: (breathlessly) Oh—thanks.
She sits, cracks open the cap and downs half the bottle in one go. Her eyes remain fixed on the same spot as before.
ANDERSON: Are you alright?
NAOMI: Yes, just… talking about that night, I see now that there were so many signs. I could have done something.
ANDERSON: Did you try to talk to her about those... signs?
NAOMI: (still visibly shaken) Look, L̢̖͍̾̓̅͊̚ͅͅa̷̬͉͕ͩͯ̆̉̀ͣ͛ṙ̷ḭ̦̙̣ͬ̓ͯ͑ͫ̌͌s͆͏̹̪̝s̆a̝̤̲̞̭̻̍͠ always made it clear that her business was her business. When she was younger, she was a lot more open about things. She would actually stay after class and we’d chat for a bit, and she seemed to really enjoy our conversations. But somewhere along the way she closed up, I guess; she stopped wanting to share anything. I did try, but she had this way of getting retribution when you’d wronged her. Like, say I asked her about something and she got upset, the next week she’d bruise my shin from a kick that was a little low. Maybe it wasn’t totally on purpose, but you could feel that petulant energy, you know?
Naomi takes another drink of water. Her back has begun to relax.
NAOMI: I guess I was worried that if I pushed too hard, she would stop coming to class.
ANDERSON: So you didn’t approach her about whatever was going on because you were worried about losing a student?
NAOMI: No. No, it’s—it’s not about the class at all. It’s about... empowering somebody. Giving them the tools they need to feel safe and confident in their daily life. I didn’t want her to lose that.
Anderson is quiet. After a moment, he jots something in his notes.
ANDERSON: Alright, we’re almost done here. I appreciate your cooperation in all this.
NAOMI: Well, thanks for doing what you’re doing. I want to find out what happened to her too. We all do.
ANDERSON: So Ms. Wilder, where were you between the hours of 5 A.M. and 6 A.M. on July the 31st of 1989?
NAOMI: I was at the gym. I was too tired to go home after Ḷ̢̢̡͇͙̘̥ͦ͋ͣ̋͊ͥ͋̍̌ͧͮͨ̽͘͜ͅä̶͉̜̭͔̤̝́͗̔͆͊̌͑̀ͅr̢̺̘̦̦̲̮̭̝̮̠̹̗̻̻͍̩̆ͭͫ͒ͣͥͫ̉͘i̧̞͙̲̰̭̱̐ͤ͐͋̎̎͊̂́ͬͪ́͘s̵̨̡̜̫̻̹͓̹͚̫̜̺̥͉̬̎͊͑̽́͠s̢͇͚̣̺̱͓̬̻̮͚͇̝̳̲̖̦ͥ̆̏ͥ̓͋͛͊͌̃̀̍̂͛ͨ͘͜a̶̡͚̝̣̲͇̽ͥ̎́͊̀͜ ’s lesson, so I crashed on the bed in the spare room. Couldn’t sleep, though, so I got up and started doing chores around the gym.
ANDERSON: I see. Is there anyone who can confirm your whereabouts?
NAOMI: I was alone, but the windows at the gym are pretty big, so anyone who was driving by around that time would have seen me in there. Also, I fixed the chest press machine and wrote it in my logbook. I’m sure several of my regulars could confirm that.
ANDERSON: Alright.
He stands and offers a hand. Naomi stands up and shakes it firmly.
ANDERSON: Thanks for your cooperation, Ms. Wilder. We’ll be in touch.
He walks over and holds the DOOR for Naomi to exit. As she does, though, her gaze follows the Detective’s chair. She gives it one last glance as the door closes.
With Spring break in full swing and no plans set in stone, the professor made her way to the bar avoiding the typical rambunctious party-goers settling in for a quiet glass before her keen gaze landed on a certain handsome blond and the collar he wore. Taking the empty barstool beside him her slender legs folded as she leaned in towards him, “Can I get you another drink?” The redhead grinned her cheek resting lightly on her palm as her emerald orbs sparkled as she took his handsome features in fully.
No matter how much time Alexandrea had spent away from the island, she knew it was only a matter of time before the institute pulled this shit. Lexi conformed calmly as the guards approached her but what she didn’t suspect was for them to remove her clothing. Reaching out to throttle a nearby guard it only then dawned on her that she was rendered powerless. “Fuck sake...” She murmured bitterly as she was brought into the ballroom for all to see and was chained to a designated spot. Reaching up she brushed her auburn maine back the chains rattling as she did so.
Her mind ran wild with suspicions of what the events following could possibly entail. She certainly felt like a circus freak as she tried to modestly cover herself from prying eyes. Concern spread over her delicate features as she watched another be chained beside her. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” She spoke softly.
Old fond memories rose to the surface as she approached her former home in the evening air. But, one memory in particular crept in slowly but surely as it raised it’s ugly head. It was the day she had turned her back on her home, she remembered it just like it was yesterday. A part of her desperately wanted to turn back but her feet kept moving closer she had to do the right thing by him at least this once.
Alexandrea’s delicate fingers knocked against the oak wooden door and soon enough she felt like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. Her thoughts began to battle with one another, fear, guilt and nerves tore at her stomach. What if he didn’t even live here anymore? Perhaps he was better off without seeing her, but surely they would cross paths one way or another or worse she’d be chewed up and spat out through the toxic rumor mill. The redhead was so deep in thought she’d completely lost grasp on how long she’d been standing there, it could have been hours? Minutes? Mere seconds? It all felt too real as she began to turn away. Her body froze to the sound of a heavy latch, shit no turning back now. Turning around slowly she swallowed hoping the earth would truly consume her whole.
STORM : for both muses to find shelter from a severe storm.
A COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF SCENARIOS - accepting
A hiss of irritation passed between his teeth, the rain had gotten so heavy he was having a difficult time seeing ahead of him.
While both brothers had put in their time at the Zaibatsu, Lars knew the ins and outs of the military far better than Kazuya did. He knew its weak points, formations, and numbers like the back of his hand. With Heihachi out of the picture, Lars wasted no time in launching assaults on the outposts scattered across Japan and Europe, plundering any resources and weaponry they could get their hands on. Yggdrasil’s numbers had been growing a great deal, mostly on the humanitarian front, it was one encouraging thing Lars was able to revel in since his father’s death.
While one such mission was a success—with Rosa being a welcome aid—the flooded roads made it impossible to continue by vehicle. Darkness began to swallow the sky and their evac wouldn’t be able to bail them out until the storm passed; it was too dangerous to fly in these conditions. They had managed to get a good number of their troops out on the first chopper, but a squad remained behind once the weather took a turn for the worst. Lars insisted that Rosa go with them to avoid their unfortunate predicament, but she insisted on staying behind as well.
Luckily for them, they were within distance of a mountain inn. Parking their convoy at the foot of the compound, Lars instructed that his troops only bring in the essentials. The innkeeper was startled at first, but once they learned of their affiliation they were hospitable, much to Lars’ relief. Regardless of them only staying a few hours, the commander thanked her profusely and apologized for the sudden influx of guests.
Lars offered for his personnel to take their choice of rooms first, splitting off into groups based on how many occupants could accompany a single room. Their squad medic had sent them each off with supplies to tend to any wounds inflicted. The plan was to rest up, converge outside and hopefully be greeted by evac come morning if the roads were still flooded.
Lars suggested that Rosa pair up with the other two women of the squad to make for a more comfortable arrangement. Finding that they too were short on space, Lars gave Rosa the key to his room instead. He was absolutely willing to sleep in the lobby if he had to, but the idea of being alone didn’t seem to sit so well with the woman. He caved at her request, already warning her ahead of time that he didn’t make fine company when it came to sleep.
The rooms were quaint and small but would provide everything they needed for the night. There was a single bed. Lars rolled his eyes at the misfortune; they were both beat from all the fighting and were far from being in the mood to protest, this was all that was left anyway.
“Thanks for your help back there. Maybe you were meant to be a soldier instead of an exorcist?” He quipped, “sorry about the weather and the arrangement…”
At least the room was acclimatized by the small gas heater operating in the corner.
After ridding himself of his soaked and heavy coat, Lars sat down in front of the device rather unceremoniously, an exasperated sound freed from his chest as he exhaled. He then leaned forward, rigorously tousling his already wild hair in an attempt to dry it.
tap . tap my muse on the shoulder to garner their attention .
As two fingers tap at the back of her cool bare shoulder amidst a decent crowd of patrons at the bar. Alexandrea turns her auburn head resting the drink she had been nursing onto the counter in front. Auburn brows lift, however softly, at the sight of him. Surprised to discover a unfamiliar handsome face. “Have we met?” She asks, her mind filtering through a century worth of faces, his being one she would likely remember.
