Welcome back o loyal reader into the halls of madness. This is a continuation of the Fragments storyline, however now from the perspective of a new Malkavian. However, don't think It's going to be as simple as Donovan's tale, after all, this Malkavian knows he is mad...
Judicature of Madness
First Law: Madness is as Madness Does
Case File 13: Fragments...
I was a cop. I am good at my job. This is not as insane as it sounds. I hate that word...insanity. It has a bad ring to it. How can being in sanity make you not sane? Madness is better. It naturally suggests the peril of the situation. It's a warning to others. A sign that danger lies ahead. A way that others might know to avoid the problem.
I suffer from madness.
But as I was saying. I was a cop. Sure it was years ago, before I became what I am now. A Kindred. A vampire. A corpse that arises each night to feast upon the blood of the living. But that's as far as the movies will ever get you in understanding me.
That's because the vampire that embraced me was a Malkavian. As a clan we're a sorry lot. We all suffer from madness...or so we would have you believe. But many of us are just suffering bouts of insanity. It is not the same thing. Some of us are harmlessly eccentric. Others are mad. It's the mad ones you have to worry about. They get crazy, they get dangerous, they get wild. That's where I come in. I pick up the shattered pieces. I collect up the fragments and put them back together. Then I dispense justice.
I pull my beautifully restored '79 black Jaguar to a stop outside of the glittering mass of the Michigan Tower. The tallest and most prominent building in all of Detroit. The night streets were busy, cars roaring past through the softly falling snow. I climb out of my car and try to shake some of the rumples out of my suit.
Detroit. What a piss poor excuse for a city. The whole damn place looks like it's just slowly rotting away into the darkness. The shining towers of industry struggling into the sky for escape as the black slime of the slums crowds around them. I already don't like the place. Still, ol' Scott told me I had to head down here, and my sire is not a man to argue with. He said there had been some bad business here two nights ago and I was needed to go help clean things up. Now all I had to do was go tell the prince he needed me.
The guards give me a good once over and take my Desert Eagle automatic off me. They flip through my pockets and eye my wallet over. One of them snickers a bit at the sight of my badge. I look him in the eye and thank him as I take it back. I insert a few nightmares for later. Let the little bastard snicker when he can't get any sleep for the next few nights. They direct me to an elevator and tell me the floor.
The elevator zooms me up to the top of the building. I step out into a luxurious sitting room. A few men in butler uniforms guide me to a seat. They've got to be ghouls. Despite their pleasant attitude I can clearly spot the slight bulge from the guns hidden under their jackets. After a few minutes of waiting another ghoul slips into the room and tells me the primogen and prince are willing to see me. I run a hand over my blonde hair to make sure it's still slicked back and neat. I walk into the meeting room.
They're all there, sitting around a large polished redwood table. The man at the head of the table has to be prince Steven. He's distinguished, all dark and mysterious. About what you expect from a prince. Seated next to him, so that he can whisper secrets, is the hunched and hideous shape of a Nosferatu. Obviously a trusted advisor and spy. I also take careful note of the quiet and plain looking woman with mussed frizzy hair who sits near this end of the table. Unless I miss my guess that has to be Jilean, primogen of the Malkavians. Of the other primogen I pay little mind, they mean nothing to me.
"Greetings prince Steven," I say with a respectful bow. He grins slightly, those old guys are always happy when you stick to old forms of respect. "My name is Johan Skinner, childe of Sir Scott Landyard of the clan of Malkav. I am your humble servant and the solution to your pressing investigation problems."
"Investigation problems," says Steven with a frown. One of his dark eyebrows ticks upwards as his eyes narrow. "What exactly do you refer to?"
"I am a special envoy of the clan." I bow again. "It is my duty to make sure misunderstandings do not occur between us and our fellow, respected, clans. I have come to facilitate the quick and proper conclusion of the strange murders that happened two nights past."
"Ah," Steven frowned slightly as he glanced over at Jilean. She quickly shook her head, her eyes slightly fearful. "You are discussing the deaths of the Ventrue Crystal, the Brujah Tony, and the Malkavian Decker?" I quickly nod my head again. "What makes you think I need your help. The sheriff is a very thorough investigator."
"Then you know who committed this crime?"
"The investigation continues."
I smile and bow slightly to him again. The Ventrue, if you tied them down and pissed on them they'd try to explain it away as rain if they thought it could save them from embarrassment. All this needs is a bit of finesse. I'll admit that's not my specialty, but I know how to do it when I have to.
"My lord. I fully realize that left to his own devices the sheriff would without fail bring to you the murderer. However, might I suggest you allow me to aid him in his investigation. I have great understanding into how the mind of a killer works."
You note I don't say the mind of a Malkavian. There's no absolute guarantee that one of my clan did the killings. Just that certain confident note in my sire's voice, and I've never known him to be wrong about this sort of thing. But it's important not to work up too big of a bloodlust about my clan's involvement. At least not until I have the murderer in hand to throw to the wolves.
"I assure you that I will prove valuable."
The prince goes quiet. He clasps his hands in front of his mouth and just eyes me up and down slowly. Next to him the Nosferatu leans forward and softly says something to him. Steven then grins. I'm not sure whether to consider that a good sign or a bad one. In any case he nods his head slowly at me as he speaks.
"Very well then Mr. Skinner. I believe your help would be most worthwhile. You are given leave to dwell in this city until after the murderer has been found. I brook no breaking of any of the Traditions, and trust you realize due to our proximity to the Sabbat that this discipline is required. I shall entrust you to Jilean, she shall provide you with haven and food for the duration of your stay. Tomorrow night you shall meet up with the sheriff and begin helping him in the investigation. Is this understood?"
"Of course my prince, you have my gratitude and that of my sire and clan."
"Who the heck are you?"
Jilean frowns at me over her shoulder as we climb out of my car. We parked out in back of Mercy Hospital. Not that big of a surprise that the clan would have itself well entrenched in the hospital...especially the loony bin. God, do I hate these sort of places. They remind me of what happened to my mom and dad. It was never a pretty sight to come visit them.
"My name is Johan Skinner, I'm a special investigator for the cl-"
"Don't hand me that hogwash," snarls Jilean as she brushes by me and heads for the rear door of the hospital. I straighten my yellow tie and brush off my brown suit as I follow her. She's got a bit of an attitude, but I can see why she's in charge of the clan hereabouts. She's still pretty lucid. In fact, despite the ride together, I had yet to figure out what her quirk was. "Do you really believe you are what you say you are? Did your sire ever discuss his little organization with anyone else?"
"Yes and no," I say with a nod as we pass through the doors.
The old smell hits me hard. Almost makes me want to run crying out of there. The way they had mom hooked up to those machines. Tubes sticking out of every part of her body. Blinking lights and humming buzzers all around her. She was screaming. They said she was in a coma, but I knew she was awake. She was screaming and screaming and screaming. Why couldn't they help her? Why wouldn't they help her!?
"Why does that not surprise me," she mutters darkly. "Now listen here Mr. Skinner. I run a tight ship. I arranged for this little safe haven to be made. Almost the whole clan finds it very restful, you'd be surprised how many stay here. They say it helps them relax and deal with the outside world. I gave them this nice quiet place they can get away to. I make sure any of us not fit to go out don't go out. I keep them calm. I don't let any of the others get too worked up with their problems. We don't have problems, which makes me wonder why we need you."
"The murder of three Kindred suggests there's at least a bit of a problem ma'am." I smile at her as we step into the elevator. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just want to get to the truth."
I am the truth and the word of God. Dad wandering through the hallways screaming at the top of his voice. Dragging his calostomy bag with him because they couldn't trust him in a bathroom alone. Telling you every time you visited him that he was God and you were spit...less then spit....worth less then the spit of spit. Dad, God, whoever. He never cared if you were there or not. If it was day or night. He just hadn't cared.
"The truth? With our clan? You just might be the craziest Malkavian I've ever met."
"I do suffer from madness." The elevator reaches the intensive care ward. They keep it below street level so it's harder for the patients to get out. We walk down the long hallways, the distant echoing cries of the condemned swirling around us. "So Jilean, who do you think did it?"
"I don't worry about that sort of stuff," she says with a wave of her hand. "I just keep to my own business." I nod at her, as though that's answer enough for me. She takes me over to one of the emergency wings, the door has been locked shut and a condemned sign nailed across the door. She pulls out a key and opens it up. "I'll see about introducing you around. That is if you'd like to meet the others here."
"Thank you."
Yes, it's always good to know the suspects.
She leads me to a sitting room. Four people are sitting there. Two playing gin rummy, another watching TV. The last sitting quietly in the corner and reading a book. Jilean motions to the two playing cards. One is a tough looking young guy decked out like a Marine. His hair buzz cut and his face serious. I note the pair of pistols strapped by his waist. The second card player is a stunningly endowed woman. She wears a skintight and extremely thin black dress. Her long black hair is done up in an elaborate do atop her head. She even has a small dagger tucked into her belt. Basically she looks just like that TV hostess Elvira.
"That is Jake Storm and Dachia Marks. Jake keeps the place safe and runs a gun supply business to keep us with a ready supply of cash. Dachia...works the streets occasionally. But she's harmless."
We turn to the TV watcher. It's a thin teenage girl. Her face is thickly coated in heavy makeup. Done up with her eyes too dark and her skin too white. Her lips are also dark black. Her blonde hair is dirty and pulled back into two ragged ponytails. She wears a tattered white ballet costume. Her large blue eyes are held frozen in the light of the show she's watching. She giggles and tugs at her hair slightly.
"That poor dear is Phaedra. We don't let her out much..."
The quiet book reading fellow is dressed in black slacks and a black turtleneck sweater. A worn black jacket is draped over the back of his chair. His brown hair was kept trimmed short and neat. His thin face has a bit of stubble around his chin and mouth. His soft brown eyes scan over the pages carefully. He holds a yellow highlighter in his right hand. As he reads he seems to mark over the section. Slowly highlighting the entire page as he goes.
"And there is Christopher Donovan. He just moved in here recently after some problems he had. But he's a fairly peaceful fellow all told. There's also a few other members of the clan. But they happen to be out at the moment. I could introduce you to them all early tomorrow night."
"Good, I may need to see them later, but this is good."
"You'll be needing a room I suppose." Jilean turns and slips out of the common area. I follow her, already considering what I'll need to solve the case. "I have some business to tend to, so I'm afraid I have to dash. She turned and knocked on a door. A young kid dressed in loose black clothing and with protruding buck teeth opens the door. "Tommy, be a dear and show Mr. Skinner to a room."
"Sure, room. I'll show him room," mutters the kid as he nods a few times.
He sounds like Rain Man, all stuttering and confused. But does he too have hidden talents? Hidden...hidden talons. The blades sharp in my hand. The metal ripped into me as it hit. The force cutting me as much as the target. But it had to have been done, there was no way around it. I am the truth and the word of God. Dad laughed about it when they told him...he laughed.
"Thanks Jilean," I say with a curt bow of my head. All I need is for you to get me some information on the clan. Each of their habits and natures. Then I want to meet with them tomorrow."
"What, all of them?"
"Yes."
She nods and walks off. I follow the buck toothed kid down the hall. He rambles on about Decker as we walk. His stuttering speech slurring out of his crooked mouth. I am the truth and the word of God. Dad's words from my quivering mouth as I cried. The white sheets were white no more. White is might, white is right. White at night, it had made her upset. She had wanted out so badly. How could it have been wrong? It was just a matter of learning what right and wrong was, and then doing the right thing.
"So you're gonna solve the Decker thing," sputtered the kid as he grinned at me. "That's cool, I liked Decker, he was cool. It weren't cool that he...y'know, got hurt. He was always cool with me."
"You were his pal then," I ask with a fake grin, the better to relax him. The kid shrugs and nods.
"I got all sorts of pals here. Everybody likes me...I like them too, all of them."
"Did anyone not like Decker?" He pauses, as though considering the very concept of the question.
"I don't think Decker liked anyone, but no one really hated Decker." He shrugs as he walked over and opened up a door to one of the rooms for me. "But you're gonna find the guy, right?"
I nod at him. Yes. The suspects have been assembled. The investigation can start tomorrow when I meet with the sheriff. I've seen the faces of some of the suspects. I've sensed the soul of all of them. Some are only insane. But at least one suffers from madness. I will sniff him out, I will drag him forth...and I shall see that we have justice!