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Meet the Parents


Heridfel

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Mrs. Hanks lives in a rowhouse by the river. It's a little dingier than the Emissary might have expected, given the fairly exalted position that her son held within Grant Conglomerates. There are several reasons why she might still be there, from wanting to keep the home to not being given any assistance in her old age. To find out what they are, if he even finds it necessary as part of his investigation, the Emissary will have to ask.

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Mrs. Hanks lives in a rowhouse by the river. It's a little dingier than the Emissary might have expected, given the fairly exalted position that her son held within Grant Conglomerates. There are several reasons why she might still be there, from wanting to keep the home to not being given any assistance in her old age. To find out what they are, if he even finds it necessary as part of his investigation, the Emissary will have to ask.

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  • 2 weeks later...

It takes almost a minute before anything can be heard on the other side, and the Emissary might think that there is simply no one at home at first. When the door opens an inch, he can spot a woman with thinning white hair sitting in a wheelchair. She peers through the crack, seeing a superhero standing outside. The door closes, and the deadbolt is undone. When she re-opens the door slightly, she wheels back.

"Come in," she says. Her voice sounds like that of a younger, healthier woman. "Lock the door behind you." She doesn't ask why the Emissary is here, and seems like she expects that he will tell her.

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It takes almost a minute before anything can be heard on the other side, and the Emissary might think that there is simply no one at home at first. When the door opens an inch, he can spot a woman with thinning white hair sitting in a wheelchair. She peers through the crack, seeing a superhero standing outside. The door closes, and the deadbolt is undone. When she re-opens the door slightly, she wheels back.

"Come in," she says. Her voice sounds like that of a younger, healthier woman. "Lock the door behind you." She doesn't ask why the Emissary is here, and seems like she expects that he will tell her.

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The woman nods, looking at him with eyes that seem to be somewhat clouded over.

"There's still someone looking? More than I thought. It happened months ago, and the last I heard from the police was that they had no leads," she says. "You're a superhero, aren't you? I don't know your name." She sounds a little distracted, and the Emissary might worry for a moment that she has descended into dementia. Her next words help to allay that fear.

"I'll answer all your questions that I can. I want to see whoever killed my son brought to justice."

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The woman nods, looking at him with eyes that seem to be somewhat clouded over.

"There's still someone looking? More than I thought. It happened months ago, and the last I heard from the police was that they had no leads," she says. "You're a superhero, aren't you? I don't know your name." She sounds a little distracted, and the Emissary might worry for a moment that she has descended into dementia. Her next words help to allay that fear.

"I'll answer all your questions that I can. I want to see whoever killed my son brought to justice."

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"I hope to see that happen miss. I will do what I can to make it so. If I might ask, when was the last time you saw your son prior to the murder? In the weeks before it, had he done or said anything that particularly stood out to you?"

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"I hope to see that happen miss. I will do what I can to make it so. If I might ask, when was the last time you saw your son prior to the murder? In the weeks before it, had he done or said anything that particularly stood out to you?"

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The old woman sighs.

"I don't know how long it was. Years. He paid for me to keep living here, but he never had time to visit. He was a very important person at Grant Conglomerates," she says. Her eyes are misting up a little.

"I figured out that he was embarrassed to see me. I don't know if it's because I got old, or because of what he did to himself. That's why no one is trying to find out who killed him. They just are happy that he's dead."

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The old woman sighs.

"I don't know how long it was. Years. He paid for me to keep living here, but he never had time to visit. He was a very important person at Grant Conglomerates," she says. Her eyes are misting up a little.

"I figured out that he was embarrassed to see me. I don't know if it's because I got old, or because of what he did to himself. That's why no one is trying to find out who killed him. They just are happy that he's dead."

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"Oh, yes. The police came and I told them, but they just thought I was crazy. He wasn't born with four arms; believe me, I know that. And he wouldn't have kept them unless he was the one who wanted them there," Mrs. Hanks says. "Large as they were, and covered with white fur. Someone killed him for having them."

She rolls her chair deeper into the house, forcing the Emissary to move if he wants to remain in the same room as her. She looks like she's going through the dining room towards the kitchen.

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"Oh, yes. The police came and I told them, but they just thought I was crazy. He wasn't born with four arms; believe me, I know that. And he wouldn't have kept them unless he was the one who wanted them there," Mrs. Hanks says. "Large as they were, and covered with white fur. Someone killed him for having them."

She rolls her chair deeper into the house, forcing the Emissary to move if he wants to remain in the same room as her. She looks like she's going through the dining room towards the kitchen.

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He scratches the back of his head as he follows along.

"Why would someone kill him for having four arms?"

(OOC: can I get something like a sense motive roll to see if she's holding anything back or being misleading or the like?)

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He scratches the back of his head as he follows along.

"Why would someone kill him for having four arms?"

(OOC: can I get something like a sense motive roll to see if she's holding anything back or being misleading or the like?)

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Mrs. Hanks turns back and looks at him.

"You must be one of those ones who isn't from around here. People kill each other every day because their skin's a different color, or they're from a different tribe, or for even more petty reasons. A man who doesn't look all human - and doesn't have superpowers like it looks like you do - he could be a target.

You've been investigating his death. What reasons have you found?"

She is currently waiting outside the doorway to the kitchen for the answer to her question.

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Mrs. Hanks turns back and looks at him.

"You must be one of those ones who isn't from around here. People kill each other every day because their skin's a different color, or they're from a different tribe, or for even more petty reasons. A man who doesn't look all human - and doesn't have superpowers like it looks like you do - he could be a target.

You've been investigating his death. What reasons have you found?"

She is currently waiting outside the doorway to the kitchen for the answer to her question.

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"None so far, quite frankly. From the placement of his body in the cemetary to the removal of his kidneys, it remains as it had seemed initially, inexplicably bizarre. Nor have there been many, or any that had particular familiarity with your son to so comment on his life, beyond yourself, and you have not seen him in years. Outside of his apparent dedication to his work, he has seemed very much a cipher. But it does not mean anything besides that I need to keep looking."

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"None so far, quite frankly. From the placement of his body in the cemetary to the removal of his kidneys, it remains as it had seemed initially, inexplicably bizarre. Nor have there been many, or any that had particular familiarity with your son to so comment on his life, beyond yourself, and you have not seen him in years. Outside of his apparent dedication to his work, he has seemed very much a cipher. But it does not mean anything besides that I need to keep looking."

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"If he really was such a nobody, then whomever killed him wouldn't have done it so strangely. Plenty of people die in Freedom City, even with all the superheroes around. Most of them don't go like that," Mrs. Hanks says. She wheels herself into the kitchen and looks back to the Emissary.

"Can you help me with the sugar? It's in the cupboard over there," she says, pointing to a cupboard which she could conceivably reach from her wheelchair, but not easily. She heads to a tin on the table and gently opens it up to reveal tea inside.

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