Play@YSDC

"Why not? It's the only game in the village until school bell anyway."

"If I'm really lucky, it might save me a training session. If we get a decent work out now. I did eat quite a few slices or that bara brith."

Leo thanks DS Singh and nods. As he looks at the police station, he remembers the skittles hall in flames and shudders as he imagines the station suffering the same fate. The guilt threatens to overwhelm him, but he manages to tamp it down. He has a job to do. "We'll try not to call at all."

Leo pores over the records with a cuppa and is visibly relieved when the desk sergeant finally breaks the monotony. "Howdy DOODly do..." he chirped happily. "How's it going? Am I glad to see you..." Then he nodded. "Yes, we should check it out. I'm extremely curious about who it is." As he grabbed his suit jacket and slipped it on, he grinned and said, "I bet it's our long lost lollipop lady."

As much as Eli enjoys going through all this paperwork even he was starting to find it monotonous, each report sounding more and more like a 7yr old ' What I did in the holidays' essay. Agreeing with Snapper, " I think nows a perfect time to go and spread our legs." He says with a smile.

Izzy realises she's been fairly quiet since leaving the school, and wonders to herself if it's mainly been delayed reaction to what she saw at the crossing. But she doesn't want to put that on the others. Instead, she nods along and gives her assent as DS Singh issues instructions and shoots off the the scene of the incident. She's similarly muted throughout checking the statements and the growing annoyance at the lack of info about their prime, and only, suspect.

The desk sergeant is a welcome respite from the monotony.

"'Casing the joint'? Seriously? What, is the neighbour really that bored of watching 'Find It, Fix It, Flog It' or something, needs to see what's happening in the street outside?"

Still, it's the only lead they've had for a bit, and so Izzy is more than ready to investigate the strange person outside the councillor's house if it means stretching her legs a bit.

"Doubt it's the lollipop lady, the desk sergeant said the neighbour thought 'he' was casing the joint. Which implies someone new, and male. Worth checking out either way..."

Skipper looked at Leo and Izzy narrowly, and gave a very unsmiling grunt. "The broomstick-bandits have now found voice. Which is ironic as I don't believe I heard a lot of defence of the civvie members of our little Folly crew when DS Sunshine was talking before."

"What were her words? You can just keep out of the way, as I recall."

"I will sleep sounder from this day though, knowing how willing you both are to defend my good name and honour."

"Come on, let's jump in the motor and head to old son's gaff before the villain wanders away."

Des fell in step with Eli as they headed to the car. ”De expression u want is ‘stretch yor legs’,” she said. ”Spreadin’ yor legs has a whole diff’rent meanin’!”

Eli blushes slightly, "Yes...er...quite...lets go and 'stretch our legs' and find this new possible lead."

Leo nodded at Skipper. "You're right. We owed you more than that. You guys have done so much for this team."

"Sorry, mates. It won't happen again."

There's no need to take the car - it's a quick walk back to Short's house, even if you make a slight detour to avoid the school crossing.

If you wish to use the school crossing, and haven't already passed a Sense Vestigia test there, please make one now.

Despite all your distractions and, dare I say, lack of concentration, you nonetheless feel that something is different about the road crossing: a build-up of some kind of power. It is difficult to identify, but you'd put money on something Falcon related. This failure to pick anything up leaves you with a vague sense of unease and guilt.

Concentrating, you immediately pick up the sense of happy children and busy parents, chatter, shouting, and the occasional beep of a horn. Cutting through all this a feeling of calm and steadying presence; guiding, reassuring yet also judging.

Then it hits you.

Memories of all the bad things you have done rise unbidden in your mind.

What do you most feel guilty about? Describe it.

As the knowledge wracks you with remorse and shame, you find yourself being dragged towards a yawning black portal to face the judgement you so rightly deserve.

Shame.

Wickedness.

Guilt.

Then suddenly, as if the portal doors are slammed shut in your face, you find yourself back on the school crossing - bleak rainy wind tousling your hair.

However you get there, you enter Short's cul-de-sac to find his neighbour, Mr. Williams, hopping from foot to foot in a state of agitation.

"He's still in there!" he hisses, trying to keep his voice down.

"He pulled up in that van a few minutes ago and started poking around! Scruffy looking bloke: young, white male."

He points to a battered white transit van parked on the pavement nearby.

Des looked at the coppers. ”U gunna run de reg?” she asked.

Skipper's words sting, but Izzy battles through it. Hardly her own fault that she had been distracted, and if he'd been through that crossing and seen what she did, he'd understand, surely? But she doesn't press the point, simply nodding, and giving an apologetic look as they continue on.

At the house, she glances at Des, before taking a quick picture on her phone of the vehicle and registration. She sends it on to her London contacts, requesting an action for a number plate check with the DVLA, and for them to make it quick. Then she turns her phone off, ready in case of magic use, with the intention to turn it back on and check the response afterwards.

"Not a bad idea. In the meantime, we should probably head in, check the place over. Get him red handed. We'll need to cover the back door as well as the front..."

Des frowned as Izzy switched off her phone. ”U not waitin’ to see who it is?” she asked.

Jordan takes a longer walk to avoid the crossing. Even though he's blind to vestigia, he'd rather not take the chance.

"We can't take a chance that he escapes if he's still inside," he says, following Izzy's example and popping the battery out of his phone. "I'm good at blocking doors so that nobody gets through them. Do you want me at the front or the back?"

Skipper, apparently still in rather dark humour, grunted impatiently and started moving. "You do this door, Jordan, I'll go round the back. Plod can do the talking." This last was followed by a further, ironic grunt.

With that, Skipper stalked off to find the easiest way into the back garden, hopefully via a gate or opening, possibly over a fence or hedge as a last resort.

”Apparently we ain’t waitin’” said Des, rolling her eyes as she slipped the battery from her own phone.

Curiosity got the better of Eli and used the crossing......and although he could sense there was something...off...with the crossing he could sense nothing but a slight frustration at his lack of ability to sense anything tangible.
Catching up to the others he saw Skipper sneaking around the back and decided to follow him, thinking it prudent that no-one should be alone.

Jordan stands ready to bring up the rear when they go to the front door, so that he can block it after the others enter.

DC Dansby gets his warrant card out. He knows he has already introduced himself, but it's more out of habit than anything else at this point. He removes his battery from his phone as he thinks for a moment.

Leo looked at Skipper and said,"I'll join you in the back."

At the rear of the house, things are pretty much the same as before.

However, those of you at the front notice that the front door is slightly open...

If you're at the front door, an Observation roll please.

It looks like the door has been jemmied open.

He opens the side gate as quietly as possible and holds it for Skipper as they step into the back garden. Then he jams some paper from his PNB into the latch to keep it from closing noisily.

Leo mentally steels himself as they reach the back. He takes a deep breath, releases it, and clears his mind. No guilt. No burning buildings. He steps up to the bi-fold door, checking though the window for any occupants.