Play@YSDC

Not a lot goes on at the corner of West and College. Quiet places are where people send candid troublemakers like Dutch. The environments are dull. The assignments are even duller. Find out who's been doing this, they say, and "this" is never anything worth investigating.

Somebody's been making noise around this area. Disturbing beloved flowerpots, screaming at the sky in the middle of the night, generally engaging in crazy behavior. Last Dutch heard, they hadn't caught him yet. It doesn't seem too unsettled, though. A few people pass by, doing ordinary things, moving about in normal ways. Nobody really notices him surveying the streets.

Off in the distance, there's a loud crash.

Dutch turns his head to the origin of the sound. Probably some damn college kids running wrecked a car, or had too much fun at a speakeasy and knocked over some trashcans. He hustles towards the sound of the crash, faster than a jog, but not a breakneck sprint. It was one of the little things the brass encouraged, to keep the public calm during "non-critical" responses. Dutch grumbles under his breath as he runs to the scene.

It doesn't take a sleuth to plainly see the source of the noise at the scene: it is indeed a knocked-over trashcan, spilling common garbage across the street. Shards of glass, pieces of clay, and - is that blood? - litter the area as well.

A second after Dutch arrives, though, he catches a glimpse of a figure rushing past him, towards the University. They don't look like a panicked college student, though - there's something off about the way they're running. Like they don't even know where they're headed.

Dutch's initial focus on the blood is overtaken by the rushing figure. Crap. Why do people always run? Instinctively, he turns and begins to run after the figure. Hell, the trashcan will still be there when I get back. He decides against drawing his piece, in case the runner is just a passerby who saw something in the trashcan and got spooked. He calls out to the figure.

"Hey Mac, put the brakes on! Arkham Police Department!"

The man either doesn't hear him or doesn't listen, because he keeps running. When he stops, next to the University, there doesn't seem to be a reason for it - then he turns and slams himself into one of the windows. A young woman out of sight shrieks, and a man who must be near her can be heard shouting:

"Oh, God, what - who are - your face...!"

Dutch sprints after the man. Doesn't seem like a drunk. A nervous breakdown? Either way, this guy's trouble. The sound of screaming and panic tells Dutch that he needs to put a stop to this situation immediately, before one nutcase turns into mass hysteria.

"Arkham Police! Stop right now!"

The man still doesn't listen, refusing to cease pounding on the window. At least, until another man runs around the University, shouting "You there, what do you think you're doing?" and grabs his arm. Then he stops, and merely stands there.

As Dutch nears the scene, the screaming woman comes into view, her palms pressed against her eyes. She's young - probably a student.

Three other men come running from the opposite direction. One sprints ahead and pulls the girl away from the scene. "Eliza, God, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have..." Dutch recognizes his voice as belonging to the man who was with her. If he ran to get help, he must have been fast.

The moment Dutch catches up, the runaway slowly turns around.

Jacob,Please move to the following thread: [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/viewtopic.php?f=224&t=3194]Perception[/url]

Upon coming back to the overturned trash can, Dutch can tell that the scene is as he left it. Wind has no doubt blown some of the lighter garbage away, but most of it has gone undisturbed.

Dutch crouches near the trashcan so that he can look inside. Taking his pencil out, he uses it to delicately move away any refuse while he searches for clues.

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Among the more common items found in any old trash can, there are a few oddities. A broken flower pot has thrown a spray of dirt over a large portion of the garbage, and some long-stemmed white blossoms are strewn about, looking as sad as flowers can look. There's a trowel lying next to the lip of the can (who throws away a trowel?) and what looks to have been a piece of fruit pie. The presumed plate is a few inches away, a huge crack through its middle.

Shards of glass, splinters of wood, and tiny splatters of dried blood litter the scene.

Strangely, Dutch gets the feeling he's being followed. Probably somebody curious from the crowd at the University.

Jean inspects the overturned trash can from behind Dutch's shoulder.

"Excuse me, you seem to know what you are doing, and . . . What are you doing?"

Dutch looks up to see one of the bystanders has followed him. "I'm looking for clues, Ma'am," he says. "The man ran down this way. He bumped into this trashcan. hopefully, I'll be able to find witnesses the how this started, rather than the casual onlookers gawking at the end of the trail."

. . . casual onlookers gawking . . .

"That's me!

"Actually, I want to know what's going on in this creepy town. Buy me coffee, tell me what you've found out, and I'll give you a 'Class A' witness."

Jean (an extremely tall woman) sizes up Dutch.

"There are not too many men I can look up to."

Dutch looks at the woman with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I can't discuss police business. But, if I can talk to this witness, I'd be able to wrap up this case, and there's a good diner near campus that I'd be able to take you for that cup of coffee."

. . . and there's a good diner near campus that I'd be able to take you for that cup of coffee."

"Sounds good."

"Fantastic," Dutch says with a smile. "I'm Detective Vrees, by the way, but people call me Dutch. Where is the Class A witness?"

"Dutch, I'm Ms. Ross, but Jean only, please.

"Quid pro quo--answer some of my concerns about Arkham, and then I'll tell you what I know."

Dutch tilts his hat back a bit. "Jean, I'd be happy to discuss any concerns you might have. But I'm on the job and on the clock right now, and I really don't have time to get into a chat about Arkham's storied past while there's a nutcase with no eyes bleeding all over street. So pretty please, with sugar on top, tell me where I can find this witness."

Jean looks towards the lunatic, then back to Dutch.

"Of course.

"The newsboy who delivers to my apartment: he saw everything. I don't know his name, but I live at Sunshine Villas, the Docks, and the newsagent is that one on the corner of Miskatonic Street and Merchant Drive, with the 'barber shop' awning."