(I'm writing these as pulpy weekly little fiction pieces written in world (Blades in the Dark) about the two who took over and implemented the Bluecoats current style as they are a generation or two back. They're meant to be somewhere between 'serious' and too serious. I'm still feeling it out. They're pretty much just propaganda about the founders of the current Bluecoats, who will obviously be a major problem to the crew. They're also picking up in the middle of a release, and since we play every other week I'm skipping chapters.)
The Bluebook: Nelson & Robyn
A collection of excerpts from the case and files of law enforcement paradigm Pete Nelson and his partner Robyn Muller. Pulled from the archives, with permissions, and transcribed to you dear readers weekly!
This week, we present:
By the Light of a Ghost Moon
The silvery visage, spotted and cracked, the old dead moon. It hangs, wavering slightly at its edges, the details blurred but its chill permeates out, deep and vast. The reflection is suddenly disturbed, a footfall interrupts the stillness, sending water in every direction. Heavy, striding steps splash next, the second in tow right behind the first.
“Stop, and I won’t break your damn legs!” Nelson growls, leaning into the run.
The figure, its cloak hanging behind, the shadows that once trailed its frame hang limply in their usual places; no longer dancing in tune with the wearer's step. The old chapel hangs high above, the hillside steep with rocks and loose dirt. The figure breaks from the lake's edge towards the large calcified trees that thicken into the distance. Diving into the mass of the old thicket, the shadows suddenly converge, deepening the darkness.
Nelson slides to a stop, instinctively reaching for his pistol but again finding the holster empty. He curses, thinking of the trouble it would be to retrieve it from the pits of the cave. Who knows how deep that chasm ran? Nelson snaps into action after seeing a gap in the shadows.
“This trick only works so well now. I know you’re in there, dammit.”
He wades into the darkness, listening for movement. Gentle wind thrums through the old pillars, his heavy boots now barely crack branch underfoot. He slowly slips the brass knuckles Robyn's sister insists he keeps on him onto his right hand. The dead moon's light is eaten up by wisps of shadow, as is the sound of the world. Everything is muffled as Nelson moves his way through total darkness, slowly bumping into the edge of a tree and following its border.
“Hey you weird squid!” Robyn shouts from above, tossing one of the flash bombs Del had given him toward the edge of the dark mass.
A blinding light for an instant, Nelson shades his eyes but locates a sight of the figure again, this time the silhouette betraying its position. With a few long strides, he leans into a full punch, attempting to knock the turned individual off their feet. The blow is turned slightly, the figure ducking at the last instant but is sent spinning towards the tree behind. The darkness is still in full, but Nelson strikes out with confidence. His right hook is met with the hollow crunch of bark as the shadow itself dances aside. The opening is met with a kick to the back, sending him now against the tree. Robyn drops from above a moment later, blindly pledging into the darkness. Instead of the target, he quickly finds a discarded robe. Picking it up, a humming device is made into the lining which, as it slows its rhythm, the darkness begins to return to normal. Slowly, each other's forms come into view. Nelson squints before looking into the distance for the escaped target.
“Boss, you should see this.” Robyn offers the strange box sewn into the jacket's lower rim. Its silver frame is tarnished slightly and holding a low, light glow.