Ace Steel in... The Vanishing of Alice Graves

//New Ashport, the city that never sleeps... mostly 'cause it’s too chicken to see what'll happen if it does. I’ve walked the streets more times than I can count. Seen 'em change from factories for the honest man to crumblin' husks, just like the people who live 'ere. The rain falls too hard, too often. It feels like the sky's tryin' to wash away the filth... but it never gets clean. The dirt’s too deep, the blood’s too old. It’s a city built on the broken backs of broken people.// (click: ?page)[=//I thought I could make a difference. I know, I know. I was knuckleheaded enough to think one man with a gun and badge could fix a city like this. That was before I had the balls to admit that its more than a playground for mobsters and killers—it’s a machine. A machine that chews up any wanna-be hero that thinks they can stand against it. And I’ve got the scars to prove it.// (click: ?page)[=//I don't got the badge no more. Don’t believe in it. The rusty pennies are just another racket for the ones really in charge. I'm a private eye now. Pay me enough, and I’ll find your missin' kid, your cheatin' wife, your lost dog, whatever. I know I’m just another cog in the machine, turning to keep it all grinding along. 'Cause in New Ashport, you don’t change the system...// (click: ?page)[=(align:"=><=")[[[you survive it.]]]

[[Ace]] steps through the narrow doorway of his small, one-room agency, the hinges creaking in protest as the door swings shut behind him. It was modest, barely big enough to hold the essentials—a battered old desk, a couple of filing cabinets stuffed with case files, and a worn couch, Ace's assistant perched upon it. (click: ?page)[=The light from the flickering neon sign outside filtered through the grimy window, casting a faint red glow across the room. (click: ?page)[=It wasn’t much, but it was his. (click: ?page)[=“Someone was out late again.” Maggie’s voice was casual, but he could hear the concern buried beneath it. She didn’t look up from her newspaper. "Did you at least remember—" (click: ?page)[="I never forget." Ace says, slapping the dusty case file to [[Alice Graves]]' abduction on the couch. (click: ?page)[="Thanks. Been meaning to file this away." Maggie says, taking a glance at Ace. “Wow, you look like hell… even more than usual.” (click: ?page)[=Reaching for the bottle of whiskey on his desk, Ace pours a heavy measure into the chipped glass. The liquid catches the dim light of the desk lamp, a dull amber glow in the dark room. He takes a slow sip. (click: ?page)[=[["If I looked any better, Mags, I wouldn’t fit in this city."]] [["Yeah, well… I’ve looked worse."]] [["I’ll live."]]

Maggie glances up at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Worse? That’s hard to believe. And what kept you out so late?” “Oooh, let me guess, actually,” a smile fully forming. “The Lantern? Another dead-end case?” (click: ?page)[=Ace sighs. “A little of both,” he mutters, taking another prolonged sip before sitting back deeper in his chair. “I did run into a fella at the Lantern, though. Thought he had a story worth listenin’ to… turns out, he just thought I had a tab worth runnin’.” He rubs his eyes wearily. “I’m startin’ to think people only come to me when they need a free drink or a friendly face. They always seem to forget I ran outta ‘[[friendly]]’ years ago."

"Not what I was asking, Ace," Maggie sighs in a tired tone. "And what kept you out so late?” “Oooh, let me guess, actually.” Her mood changing instantly. “The Lantern? Another dead-end case?” (click: ?page)[=Ace sighs. “A little of both,” he mutters, taking another prolonged sip before sitting back deeper in his chair. “I did run into a fella at the Lantern, though. Thought he had a story worth listenin’ to… turns out, he just thought I had a tab worth runnin’.” He rubs his eyes wearily. “I’m startin’ to think people only come to me when they need a free drink or a friendly face. They always seem to forget I ran outta ‘[[friendly]]’ years ago.”

Maggie glances up at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Uh-huh. And what kept you out so late?” “Oooh, let me guess, actually,” a smile fully forming. “The Lantern? Another dead-end case?” (click: ?page)[=Ace sighs. “A little of both,” he mutters, taking another prolonged sip before sitting back deeper in his chair. “I did run into a fella at the Lantern, though. Thought he had a story worth listenin’ to… turns out, he just thought I had a tab worth runnin’.” He rubs his eyes wearily. “I’m startin’ to think people only come to me when they need a free drink or a friendly face. They always seem to forget I ran outta ‘[[friendly]]’ years ago.”

Maggie shakes her head, chuckling. “You? Friendly? I must’ve missed that part in your biography.” (click: ?page)[=A dry chuckle escapes Ace’s mouth, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes another long sip. “Yeah, well… it was a looong time ago.” (click: ?page)[=Maggie leans back on the worn couch, her tone softening. “Seriously though, Ace… you can’t keep runnin’ yourself into the ground like this. You need sleep, not another case that’s gonna lead you straight to a bottle.” (click: ?page)[=[[“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Mags. For now, the city doesn’t give me much choice.”]] [[“If it’s not the bottle, it’ll be the city.”]] [[“Sleep’s a luxury I can’t afford, not with what’s going on out there.”]]

“You’re always chasin’ ghosts. You think that’s ever gonna stop? Or are you just keepin’ yourself busy so you don’t have to deal with… whatever it is you’re runnin’ from?” she exhales, her brow furrowing with concern. (click: ?page)[=For a moment, Ace pauses, whiskey tickling the back of his throat. He thought about telling her the truth—the nights he couldn’t sleep, the faces that wouldn’t leave him alone. Instead, he smiles grimly. (click: ?page)[=[[BRRRRRRING... BRRRRRRING... BRRRRRRING...]]

“There’s always something going on out there. You can't be there for every murder or scandal,” Maggie retorts, her voice calm but firm. “And you can't just keep yourself busy so you don’t have to deal with… whatever it is you’re runnin’ from.” (click: ?page)[=For a moment, Ace pauses, whiskey tickling the back of his throat. He thought about telling her the truth—the nights he couldn’t sleep, the faces that wouldn’t leave him alone. Instead, he smiles grimly. (click: ?page)[=[[BRRRRRRING... BRRRRRRING... BRRRRRRING...]]

"You just need a damn break," she exhales, her brow furrowing with concern. “You’re always chasin’ ghosts. You think that’s ever gonna stop? Or are you just keepin’ yourself busy so you don’t have to deal with… whatever it is you’re runnin’ from?” (click: ?page)[=For a moment, Ace pauses, whiskey tickling the back of his throat. He thought about telling her the truth—the nights he couldn’t sleep, the faces that wouldn’t leave him alone. Instead, he smiles grimly. (click: ?page)[=[[BRRRRRRING... BRRRRRRING... BRRRRRRING...]]

The sharp trill of the phone cuts through the air, breaking the silence. Ace, already reaching for it, fumbles through the mess of papers on his desk, sending them crashing to the ground. (click: ?page)[=“Damn it,” he mutters, more annoyed than angry, rifling through the clutter as the phone rings again. (click: ?page)[=Maggie makes a move to help, but Ace waves her off. (click: ?page)[=“I got it,” he snaps, his voice sharper now. His fingers finally find the receiver, yanking it from beneath a pile of bills and old case notes. (click: ?page)[=“[[Go.]]” he barks into it, his breath still uneven from the scramble.

A pause. Ace’s expression shifts, surprise flickering briefly before his face sets back into its usual composed mask. (click: ?page)[=“When?” (click: ?page)[=Another pause, longer this time. (click: ?page)[=“Alright. I’ll be there.” (click: ?page)[=Ace slams the receiver down, eyes already scanning the mess on his desk, though his mind was miles away. His jaw tightens, the tension in the air thickening as he grabs the glass and drains the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. (click: ?page)[=He stands up quickly, snatching his coat from the back of his chair, his movements suddenly [[urgent]].

Maggie narrows her eyes, sensing the haste. “What is it?” (click: ?page)[=“More trouble,” Ace responds, adjusting the collar of his coat. “Down at the docks.” (click: ?page)[=Frowning, Maggie steps toward him. “It’s always the docks.” (click: ?page)[=Ace chuckles, though there was no humor in it. “When is it not?” Pausing at the door, Ace glances back at her with a half-smile. “You don’t gotta wait up for me.” (click: ?page)[=Maggie smirks, though there was a glint of concern in her eyes. “I never do. But you better come back in one piece.” (click: ?page)[=Ace gives her a quick nod, his smile fading into a grimace. “I’ll do my best.” (click: ?page)[=The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving Maggie standing alone in the dim light of the office. (align:"=><=")+(click: ?page)[=[[Enter... The Docks]]

(align:"=><=")[Ace Steele Private Investigations] (align:"=><=")[Case 1:] (align:"=><=")[The Disappearance of Alice Graves] (align:"=><=")[[Open]]

Detective [[Marcus Hale]]—Ace’s contact in the force and one of the few in New Ashport who hadn’t been bought and sold a dozen times over. (click: ?page)[=Tonight, the detective looks like a man who hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks, something the two of them had in common for once. Ace flicks his cigarette into the water, extinguishing with a hiss as he trudges his way closer. (click: ?page)[="Late night, Ace. Thought maybe you’d gotten too used to that cushy office of yours." (click: ?page)[=Ace gives a short, humorless laugh, stepping up beside him. (click: ?page)[=[["Cushy? I've seen prison cells more comfortble."]] (click: ?page)[=[["Better than you'll ever have, that's for sure"]]

Ace steps out of his 1951 Jaguar to meet the fog rolling in thick off the water. (click: ?page)[=The air is heavy, filled to the brim with the smell of salt, oil, and especially fish. In the distance, the clank of chains and creak of ships sing in time with the soft lapping of the harbor. The full moon illuminates his surroundings, just barely. (click: ?page)[=Ace pulls his collar up, more out of habit than need. (click: ?page)[=It doesn’t keep the cold out, not really. (click: ?page)[=In the distance, a figure stands near the edge of the dock, his cigarette burning like a lighthouse. [["Hale?"]]

Hale's gravelly voice cut through the fog like a knife. "You always had a little too much pride in that dump you call an office. Guess that’s how you keep from thinking about what you lost.” (click: ?page)[=Ace doesn’t bite, letting the silence sit heavy between them before he dismisses it. “You said it was urgent, so lets get to the point already.” (click: ?page)[=Hale shifts his weight, his mouth twitching as he looked anywhere but his former partner's face. The kind of face that still made Ace want to punch the guy, even after all this time. (click: ?page)[=“You remember Alice Graves?” Hale asks, voice low, his eyes scanning the shadows, almost paranoid. It seems like the years have eaten at him. (click: ?page)[=Ace frowns, the name crawling from the back of his mind. “The burlesque dancer, right? The lady we saved from that storage warehouse." (click: ?page)[=[[Hale looks at Ace, confused]]

Hale huffs and lets out a small, satisfied grunt. "At least you're honest about it." (click: ?page)[=Ace rolls his eyes. "Uh huh. Get to the point. You said it was urgent." (click: ?page)[=Hale shifts his weight, his mouth twitching as his eyes scan the shadows, almost paranoid. The kind of face that still made Ace want to punch the guy, even after all this time. (click: ?page)[=“You remember Alice Graves?” Hale asks, voice low. (click: ?page)[=Ace frowns, the name crawling from the back of his mind. “The burlesque dancer, right? The lady we saved from that storage warehouse." (click: ?page)[=[[Hale looks at Ace, confused]]

"What?" Hale says, somewhat bewildered. "No. She was the widow. Her husband carked it in a mob dispute over in the Lowdown a few years back. Thought you'd remember that slaughterfest." (click: ?page)[="Oh... yeah," Ace reponds, his voice quiet. He isn't one to misremember cases. It's not his job to forget. (click: ?page)[=Yet, the memory of [[Alice Graves->Description of her]] just a moment ago slips through the cracks of his mind, replaced by the sharp, cold image of a woman crying over her husband in a pool of blood. (click: ?page)[=Ace’s hand hovers near his cigarette, his mind trying to make sense of it all. He pushes the thought aside. This is not the time to lose his mind. (click: ?page)[=[[Why drag me out here for a missing persons case, Hale?"]]

“This ain’t a usual-" (click: ?page)[="It's never usual," he says, voice thick with annoyance. (click: ?page)[="Fine," Hale relents with a huff. "She didn’t just vanish. Talk about her being spotted with some unsavory types. Dangerous men from out of town—way out of town.” Hale's voice lowers into a growl. “She has something, Ace. I don't know what, but its a big deal. it’s got the smell of organized trouble. People with influence, money, and no scruples." (click: ?page)[="That explains why we're in the middle of nowhere then," Ace says sarcastically. (click: ?page)[=Hale's tone doesn't budge. "Thought you'd want a piece before shit hits the fan." (click: ?page)[=[["What's the next lead"]]

''Name:'' Marcus Hale ''Age:'' 43 ''Height:'' 6’1” ''Weight:'' 175 lbs ''Occupation:'' Sergeant, New Ashport Police Department ''Current Assignment:'' Homicide & Organized Crime ''Known Affiliations:'' Officially none, suspected backchannel connections within the force ''Physical Description:'' Marcus Hale presents a lean, wiry frame, standing at 6’1” with a weight around 175 lbs. His face is angular and hard, sharp creases forming from years of tension, with sunken, gray-blue eyes. Hale can be seen in rumpled suits and a well-worn trench coat, usually accesorized by a cigarette hanging from his lips. His sudden movements suggest someone constantly on guard and weathered demeanor reflects years of wear-and-tear.

Hale fishes around in his coat pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper with smudged writing. He hands it over. (click: ?page)[="She was last seen with Ricky Valone. Seems to be running errands for these folks. He’s still just as slippery. Been hard to pin down.” (click: ?page)[=Ace studied the paper—an address scrawled in ink, not far from the place where Alice’s husband had been killed. (click: ?page)[=“That’s where she was seen?” Ace mutters. (click: ?page)[=Hale nods. “Yeah, but don’t expect a warm welcome. Valone’s a rat, but he’s a careful one. He's not gonna scare easy." (click: ?page)[=Ace folded the paper and slipped it into his coat. (click: ?page)[=[["Anything else?"]] (set: $haskey to "no")

Hale gives Ace a small shake of the head. Ace had hoped that this night would be going differently. (click: ?page)[=He had hoped to have been able to sit back and watch one of his westerns. (click: ?page)[=He had hoped to sleep. (click: ?page)[="No rest for the wicked," he grumbles under his breath. (align:"=><=")+(click: ?page)[=[[Enter... The Lowdown]]

The city’s rain-slicked streets blurred past as Ace drove, headlights slicing through the fog. He aims the car toward the industrial district. The place was a dark spot on the city’s map, forgotten by most and would like to be forgotten by the rest. (click: ?page)[="Alice... Alice... Alice..." Ace plays the name over and over in his mind. How could he have forgotten? The details of Alice’s husband’s death—the mob, the blood—it all should’ve been burned into his brain. (click: ?page)[=Ace didn’t forget cases. He wasn’t allowed to forget. (click: ?page)[=He clutches the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white. (click: ?page)[=“Get a grip,” Ace mutters under his breath, but the words aren't reassuring. (click: ?page)[=[[Get to Valone ASAP.]] [[Examine the piece of paper.]]

1034 Sumter Rd. Unit 312 It was torn from a cheap notepad, the kind cops kept in their coat pockets for scribbling notes during interviews. The ink was smeared in places from the rain, but the address was still clear enough to read, distinctively scrawled in Hale’s handwriting. <img src="https://files.oaiusercontent.com/file-lTyfOsd6QXtVneLWCRmhJz1m?se=2024-10-14T22%3A25%3A30Z&sp=r&sv=2024-08-04&sr=b&rscc=max-age%3D604800%2C%20immutable%2C%20private&rscd=attachment%3B%20filename%3D38e509db-7245-48a7-a72d-c44cf0cd0391.webp&sig=tha8pGn9mwDTLdy4JYcA0I3PvCYiITL4tPu7HQmhjJ8%3D">

Ace stands in front of a narrow tenement building, rain pattering against the brim of his hat. The dim streetlights barely light the cracked sidewalks. (click: ?page)[="Must be Ricky's," Ace scoffs. "That tracks." (click: ?page)[=Tucked between a run-down pawn shop and a boarded-up liquor store, its a quaint little place. The kind of spot where no one asked questions. (click: ?page)[=Ace's hand lingers near his waistband, revolver at the ready. As he pushes through the building’s creaking door, the muffled sound of voices drifts down from above. (click: ?page)[=Light on his feet, Ace reaches the third floor, pausing at Valone’s door. Unit 312. Closed. Nothing out of the ordinary. (click: ?page)[=Ace draws his revolver and jiggle the handle. It's unlocked. (click: ?page)[=[[He swings the door open with force, hoping to catch whoever might be here by surprise.]] [[Gently, he opens to door enough to peer inside.]]

The stench hit him first—stale booze and blood. He hesitates for a beat. Ace collects himself again and continues inside. (click: ?page)[=The lights are off, only having the television's low glow for visibility, but Ace didn’t need much. The place had been torn apart. Drawers pulled from the dresser, papers scattered across the floor. (click: ?page)[=But it is the man in the middle of the room that catches Ace’s attention. (click: ?page)[=Ricky Valone. (click: ?page)[=His body lies slumped against the wall, his white undershirt stained red and a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. (click: ?page)[=Ace crouches next to the body. No reason to check for a pulse. Whoever had come for Ricky made sure he wouldn’t be talking. (click: ?page)[=[["Damn it, Valone. You couldn’t stay alive for one lousy conversation?"]]

The stench hits him first—stale booze and blood. It's enough to make Ace hesitate for a beat. (click: ?page)[=The lights are off, only having the television's low glow for visibility, but Ace didn’t need much. The place had been torn apart. Drawers pulled from the dresser, papers scattered across the floor. (click: ?page)[=But it is the man in the middle of the room that catches Ace’s attention. (click: ?page)[=Ricky Valone. (click: ?page)[=His body lies slumped against the wall, his white undershirt stained red and a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. (click: ?page)[=Ace crouches next to the body. No reason to check for a pulse. Whoever had come for Ricky made sure he wouldn’t be talking. (click: ?page)[=[["Damn it, Valone. You couldn’t stay alive for one lousy conversation?"]]

Ace curses under his breath, kicking over an empty bottle of whiskey as he circles the room. Valone was his lead, and now he's just another body. (click: ?page)[=[[Search Valone.]] [[Examine the wound.]] [[Investigate Valone's apartment.]] [[Give up.]]

Ace stands there for a moment, staring at Valone’s corpse. (click: ?page)[=Something in him shifts. It's another long night with nothing but dead ends. Maybe it’s all pointless. Maybe it’s time to stop resisting. (click: ?page)[=Ace sighs, the fight draining out of him. He steps over Valone’s body, heading for the door without a second glance. The city can keep its secrets. Someone else can clean this mess up. Eventually. (click: ?page)[=He returns his Jaguar, lights a cigarette, and drives off into the darkness. No destination. No next move. Just the road ahead and the realization that some stories don’t have happy endings. (click: ?page)[=Some stories just end. (align:"=><=")+(click: ?page)[=[[Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]

The apartment is a dump, but that doesn't matter. The peeling wallpaper, sagging bed, and cluttered floor are all things that Ace expected from a lackey. (click: ?page)[=Regardless, he needs a lead. Anything to pont him in the right direction. (click: ?page)[=[[Back to the body->Search Valone.]] [[The Trunk]] [[The Desk]] [[The Whiskey Bottle and Cigarettes->The Ashtray and Whiskey Bottle]] [[The Chair]] (if: (history:) contains "The Ashtray and Whiskey Bottle")[[The Window]]

His gaze locks on the hole in Valone's head. The blood had dried, pooling around him in a dark stain that had seeped into the floorboards. (click: ?page)[=Ace crouches lower, studying the angle of the shot, the entry point, and the size of the wound. (click: ?page)[=It's clean. A single shot, close range. No hesitation, no panicked gunfire. Whoever pulled the trigger had been a professional, maybe a hitman. Whoever killed Valone wanted him dead fast. (click: ?page)[=Ace notes the burn marks around the wound—gunpowder residue. The killer had been standing close when they fired. Ace’s eyes flicks around the room again. Valone might’ve known his killer. (click: ?page)[=Did the foreigners already need him disposed? A third party? [[Search Valone.]] [[Investigate Valone's apartment.]]

Ace kneels beside Valone’s battered and bruised body again and runs his fingers along the inside of the man’s coat, feeling for anything out of place. (click: ?page)[=The first thing he pulls free is a crumpled pack of cigarettes, barely touched. Cheap brand, of course. He tosses it aside. (click: ?page)[=His fingers slip into the inner pocket, finding a small, leather-bound wallet. Flipping it open, Ace thumbs through the few bills, old receipts, and Valone's ID. Nothing unusual. (click: ?page)[=Then, something catches his attention: ''a small key'' tucked deeper into the pocket. Ace shoves it in his coat. (click: ?page)[=He pats down the rest of Valone’s pockets—keys, a lighter, loose change—but nothing else that stood out. Ace stands slowly, staring down at the body. (click: ?page)[=//Poor sucker// (click: ?page)[=[[Back to the apartment->Investigate Valone's apartment.]]

//I know, I know//, Ace thinks. Throwing the window open, he climbs through in one swift motion. The fire escape rattles under his boots as he hits the metal platform, eyes furiously scanning the alley below. (click: ?page)[=//There!// In the alley below, a dark sedan skidded out of the narrow lot, fishtailing before speeding off into the streets. (click: ?page)[=“Son of a—” (click: ?page)[=He sprints down the fire escape, feet barely touching the steps before leaping onto the street below. (click: ?page)[=In one swift motion, he throws himself into the driver’s seat, the engine roaring to life beneath him. The tires screech on the slick pavement, slinging the car forward down [[the narrow streets of New Ashport.]]

//Fuck no. I'm not waiting for this asshole to get away,// Ace thinks, wondering why he would even hesitate for a moment. (click: ?page)[=Throwing the window open, he climbs through in one swift motion. The fire escape rattles under his boots as he hits the metal platform, eyes furiously scanning the alley below. (click: ?page)[=//There!// In the alley below, a dark sedan skidded out of the narrow lot, fishtailing before speeding off into the streets. (click: ?page)[=“Son of a—” (click: ?page)[=He sprints down the fire escape, feet barely touching the steps before leaping onto the street below. (click: ?page)[=In one swift motion, he throws himself into the driver’s seat, the engine roaring to life beneath him. The tires screech on the slick pavement, slinging the car forward down [[the narrow streets of New Ashport.]]

The streets were a blur of neon signs and blurred headlights. Ahead, the dark sedan fishtails dangerously around a corner, nearly crashing into a parked truck before regaining its momentum. Ace narrows his eyes, gritting his teeth as he takes the turn just as fast, skidding but holding its course. "That's my girl," he wispers to his pride and joy. The two of them barrel toward a narrow alley, lined with rusted-out dumpsters and crumbling brick walls. “Not smart, pal,” Ace spits, eyes flicking to the side of the alley. “You’re boxing yourself in.” The gap is impossibly narrow, but the culprit squeezes through with mere inches to spare. "Fuck." Ace's instinct tells him to pull back, but he can’t let this suspect get away. (text-colour:red)[["GUN THE ACCELERATOR, ACE."->"G U N T H E A C C E L E R A T O R , A C E ."]]

Ace heeds this voice in his head. ''Your'' voice. He grips the wheel, his breath tight, the sides of the alley seeming to close in around him. (click: ?page)[=Then, with a screech of metal, he bursts through to the other side, the Jaguar roaring back onto the open street. (click: ?page)[=Ace watches the sedan carefully, moreso than he's done. (click: ?page)[=//This guy knows where he's going... Is he not an out-of-towner?// (click: ?page)[=Before he can think of an answer, the sedan suddenly swerves left, cutting through the old railyard. Ace’s headlights illuminated the wreckage of abandoned train cars (click: ?page)[=//Oh god, it's a trap.// (click: ?page)[=His instincts flare. The car weaves through the yard, using the debris to slow Ace's pursuit. (click: ?page)[=His eyes catch the glint of a second car lurking in the shadows. The ambusher’s headlights spark to life, cutting through the rain. Without a second thought, the car shoots out from behind a stack of crates, slamming into the side of his Jaguar with a sickening [[crunch.]]

Ace’s head whips to the side, pain exploding through his skull as the force of the crash throws him against the door. Steam hisses from the wrecked engine, and for a moment, everything is silent save for the ringing in his ears. (click: ?page)[=Ace groans, his vision swimming. Blood drips from a cut on his forehead, blurring his sight as he fights to stay conscious. The smell of gasoline and smoke fills his nostrils. (click: ?page)[=“Damn it…” (click: ?page)[=Wincing as he forces the door open, his body screams in protest. He stumbles out of the car, boots hitting the soaked pavement as he struggles to his feet. (click: ?page)[=As Ace stands, the first sedan comes to a stop a few yards away. [[A man from each car step out of the driver's seat.]]

One of them, who Ace assumes to be the killer, is a lean, cold-eyed assassin, knives glinting in his hands like fangs. The other, a crowbar-wielding brute, his knuckles white around the length of steel. (click: ?page)[=Ace wipes the blood from his brow and squares his shoulders. “Two of you, huh?” he says. “Guess I should feel flattered.” (click: ?page)[=The assassin’s lips curl into a cruel smile. “You’re persistent, detective. I’ll give you that.” His voice is low, almost a hiss. "But you're not getting out of here alive." (click: ?page)[=Darting forward with terrifying speed, the assassin already has his knives raised. Ace barely had time to react. [[Parry]] (text-colour:red)[["DODGE IT."->"D O D G E I T ."]]

Ace ducks and sidesteps, the blades cutting through the air where his throat had been just a moment ago. The man's speed is impressive, but Ace had been in enough scrapes to know how to move. Ace delivers a hard elbow to his ribs, sending the assailant stumbling back. (click: ?page)[=But there is no time to rest. The brute with the crowbar is already coming in from the side, swinging the metal bar with bone-crushing force. (click: ?page)[=[[Sidestep]] (text-colour:red)[["NOW DISARM."->"N O W D I S A R M ."]]

Ace attempts to parry, but the assassin is faster. With the twist of his wrists, one of the knives comes up, slashing across Ace's arm. The sensation is blinding. Without hesitation, the killer drives the second knife deep into Ace’s abdomen. (click: ?page)[=Ace staggers, gasping, as blood spills from the wound. His vision swims, the rain turning red as he collapses to the ground. (align:"=><=")+(click: ?page)[=[[Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]

Ace’s hand shoots out, grabbing the crowbar mid-swing. With a powerful yank, Ace wrenches the crowbar from the man’s grip and swings it with all his might, the bar connecting with the brute’s ribs with a dull thud. (click: ?page)[=The brute collapses, gasping for air, but Ace's work wasn't finished. He spins around, ready for the next attack. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["THE OTHER IS NEXT."->"N O W , A C E . T H E O T H E R I S N E X T."]]

Ace tries to sidestep, but the rain-slick ground betrays him. The crowbar comes down hard, smashing into his shoulder with bone-shattering force. Ace screams in pain, his arm going numb. The assassin makes a move. (click: ?page)[=A knife finds its mark, slicing deep into Ace’s side. He gasps, more blood spilling onto the pavement as he collapses to his knees. (click: ?page)[=The assassin stands over him, cold and emotionless. The last thing Ace sees is the crowbar whizzing down for the final blow. (align:"=><=")+(click: ?page)[=[[Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]

This voice in his head hadn't been wrong yet. (click: ?page)[=The assassin’s eyes widen in shock as Ace twists his arm sharply, the knife falling from his grip. Before the assassin could react, Ace uses the momentum to pull him closer, locking his arm around the killer’s throat in a brutal chokehold. (click: ?page)[=He struggles, kicking and thrashing, but Ace’s grip was as iron as that crowbar. He grits his teeth, tightening the choke until the assassin’s movements grow weaker, the fight draining from his body. (click: ?page)[=“You picked the wrong night,” Ace growls through the rain, his breath ragged. “You’re done.” (click: ?page)[=“No, you're done,” the killer coughs, a grim smile pulling at his lips. “You think you’ve won, detective?” he rasps, voice weak but laced with defiance. "Keep squeezing and—" (click: ?page)[=Ace tightens his grip around the assassin’s throat. “By all means. Now you're going to give me the answers I want or Valone won't be the only corpse I deal with today. (click: ?page)[=[["What do you want with Alice Graves?”]] [["What does Alice Graves have?"->"What do you want with Alice Graves?”]]

"Alice Graves? She's just a woman... nothing more." He coughs again, blood spattering from his lips. "But what she had? That’s what matters. She got something people are willing to kill for, have killed for." (click: ?page)[=Start making sense," Ace growls. (click: ?page)[="Ace, right? They've had their eyes on you for a long time now." (click: ?page)[="Who? Like I said. Start. Making. Sense," Ace says with so much venom, it could kill. (click: ?page)[="The Quill, goddamnit. I thought you were a detective," the assassin lets out a pained chuckle. "It's the key. Her husband got too close. Got whacked. Thought they were thorough. Not enough. They have it now. Nothing you can do." (click: ?page)[=[["Who the fuck is the Quill?"]]

"You ask too many questions." The assassin’s smirk wavers. “You can kill me, detective, but you’ll still have to choose... her or everything else.” (click: ?page)[=Ace’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" (click: ?page)[="The answers of the universe. But you're too late, Ace. Nothing you can do now." (click: ?page)[=Ace's mind was faltering. Maybe it was the crash. Maybe it was the nonsense this guy was speaking. Either way, he needed to know what to do. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)["PRESSURE HIM"] (click: ?page)[=//What the hell?// (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)["YOU'RE A DETECTIVE, RIGHT? PRESSURE YOUR SUSPECT."] (click: ?page)[=//Fuck. I really am losing my mind,// Ace wobbles. (click: ?page)[=“Astoria." The assassin’s voice was barely a whisper now. (click: ?page)[="Huh?" (click: ?page)[="Astoria Theater," the assassin mumbles, "That's where they were taken. But it's no use." (click: ?page)[="Better late than never." Ace regains his composure. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["WE NEED TO FIND THAT NOTEBOOK."->"W E N E E D T O F I N D A L I C E ."]] (text-colour:red)[["WE NEED TO FIND ALICE."->"W E N E E D T O F I N D A L I C E ."]]

The illustrious Astoria Theater, a husk of its former glory. Its once-grand architecture now decayed and forgotten. (click: ?page)[=Pushing through the large, rusted double doors, the hum of the city is drowned out by the cocophonous silence of the vast, empty lobby. (click: ?page)[=Ace moves silently through the corridors, his gun drawn and heart pounding in his chest. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)["STAY CALM"] (click: ?page)[=//I am calm//, Ace dismissively thinks. Every instinct screams at him to stay sharp, to be ready for whatever came next, but the voice brings a strange comfort. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["CHECK THE STAGE."]] (text-colour:red)[["CHECK BACKSTAGE."]]

//I really need to lay off the whiskey.// (text-colour:red)["YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS."] //What the hell are you?// (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["I BELIEVE I AM YOU... OR A PART OF YOU."->"I S E E M T O H A V E C O N T R O L O V E R Y O U ."]] (text-colour:red)[["I SEEM TO HAVE CONTROL OVER YOU."->"I S E E M T O H A V E C O N T R O L O V E R Y O U ."]]

Ace blinks, pausing as he enters the unwrecked sedan. This isn't just a figment of his imagination. It isn't just a whisper in the back of his mind. (click: ?page)[=It is real. (click: ?page)[=''Your voice'' doesn't stop. (text-colour:red)[“IT IS STRANGE. IT LOOKS LIKE I AM A PART OF YOUR STORY”] (click: ?page)[=Ace’s chest tightens. //Story? What story?// His jaw clenches, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, but all he sees is the empty road behind him. (click: ?page)[="How much of this is you? How long,” he asks out loud, his voice tinged with disbelief, his brow furrowed deeply. (click: ?page)[=There is no answer, not directly—just the weight of ''your'' presence, like an unseen hand on the wheel, steady but undeniable. (click: ?page)[=//You're a sick fuck.// (click: ?page)[=//But... thanks for saving my ass.// (align:"=><=")+(click: ?page)[=[[Enter... Astoria Theater]]

''Name:'' Alice Graves a.k.a. "Velvet" ''Age:'' 28 ''Height:'' 5'7” ''Weight:'' 140 lbs ''Occupation:'' Burlesque Dancer ''Status:'' Found ''Physical Description:'' Alice Graves stands at 5'7", with a slender build. Her deep auburn hair falls just past her shoulders. Alice’s fair complexion has a smooth, porcelain-like quality, giving her an almost ethereal appearance, both on and off stage. A small, discreet tattoo of a rose can be found on the inside of her left wrist. ''Incident Report (Case Closed):'' On 10/29/63, Graves was located in an abandoned warehouse in North Pier. An anonymous tip led us to the location, where Graves was found physically unharmed but shaken. She had been forcibly held in a small, locked storage room within the warehouse. No ransom note or demands were made during her disappearance, and she claims to have no memory of how she was taken. Graves has been released into the care of her family and is cooperating with authorities as the investigation continues.

''Name:'' Alice Graves ''Age:'' 28 ''Height:'' 5'7” ''Weight:'' 140 lbs ''Occupation:'' Bartender ''Status:'' MIssing ''Physical Description:'' Alice Graves stands at 5'7", with a slender build. Her deep auburn hair falls just past her shoulders. Alice’s fair complexion has a tired, familiar quality to it, making her very easy to talk to, both in and out of the bar. ''Incident Report (Case Open):'' Alice Graves was married to Thomas Graves, a factory worker in the Lowdown District who was killed during a violent dispute on 10/29/63. Official reports cite his death as collateral in a gang-related incident. Graves has been released into the care of her family and is cooperating with authorities as the investigation continues.

''Name:'' Ace Steele ''Age:'' 42 ''Height:'' 6’0” ''Weight:'' 210 lbs ''Occupation:'' Private Investigator ''Known Affiliations:'' Lone wolf personality, has an assistant, Maggie Lowe ''Physical Description:'' Ace stands at 6'0", his broad frame carrying the weight of years on the force. His brown hair shows streaks of gray. Deep-set brown eyes are framed by a permanent scowl that rarely leaves his face. Usually unshaven and perpetually keeps a defeated hunch. Despite this, he still keeps a professional air around him.

The desk in the corner is a cheap, worn-out piece of wood. The surface is cluttered with old papers, yellowed receipts, and pens that had long since dried up. There isn’t much to go off of. No hidden compartments, no sign of anything unique. (click: ?page)[=Except for one thing: a single file folder, charred at the edges, thrown haphazarly into the trashcan beside the desk. Examining the inside, there isn't a single thing in there. (click: ?page)[=//Why burn an empty folder...?//Ace ponders this for a moment. (click: ?page)[=Whatever had been in this folder, someone had wanted it gone—but they hadn’t finished the job. Valone must have been hiding something in there. Must have known whoever did this to him would need it. (click: ?page)[=And whoever it was had it now. (click: ?page)[=[[Back to the apartment->Investigate Valone's apartment.]]

Ace's eyes narrow on the half-empty bottle of whiskey and and pile of cigarettes on the table (click: ?page)[=He picks up the bottle, its cheap label peeling away as he does. Giving it a slight swirl, he has a taste. (click: ?page)[=//Eugh. Cheap shit.// Shouldn't have hoped for anything different. (click: ?page)[=He sets the bottle down and leans over the mass of nubs and butts. Making out the brand from one of them, Ace realizes that they are way too expensive for a guy like Valone. (click: ?page)[=//No ashtray either... the guy doesn't smoke.// (click: ?page)[=The filters are crushed and smeared as if the smoker in question had been tense, impatient. Whoever had been here was either pacing or sitting for a long time, chain-smoking as they interrogated Valone. They needed something from him. (click: ?page)[=[[Back to the apartment->Investigate Valone's apartment.]]

Ace walks up to the small, grimy window, wiping a streak of dirt away with the back of his hand. The rain had slowed while he was inside, leaving the city shimmering under the streetlights and... (click: ?page)[=His eyes drift upward, catching sight of the moon hanging low in the sky. (click: ?page)[=He pauses, frowning slightly. The moon—''wasn’t it full earlier tonight''? Now it was nothing but a thin crescent, barely lighting up the clouds that hung over New Ashport. (click: ?page)[=[["Nah, I must be remembering wrong."]] [["It was definitely full."]]

"I must be more tired than I thought," Ace says, dismissing the feeling. (click: ?page)[=[[Back to the apartment->Investigate Valone's apartment.]]

Ace is good with details. They've kept him alive, kept him one step ahead. (click: ?page)[=But now something else shifts, something he can't see but feels deep in his gut—a subtle tremor that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise. (click: ?page)[=The room around him suddenly feels heavier, like the walls moved just a fraction of an inch. Nothing looks different, except for that thin crescent moon hanging there, mocking him. (click: ?page)[=[[*SKREEEEECH*]]

Ace snaps his head down towards the alleyway, his senses immediately on high alert. (click: ?page)[=The perp is still here. (click: ?page)[=How could he have possibly missed that. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["IT'S HIM, ACE."->"I T ' S H I M , A C E ."]] (text-colour:red)[["IT'S HIM, ACE."->"S L O W L Y , A C E ."]]

''Thank you for playing "Ace Steele in: The Disappearance of Alice Graves"!'' Ending 1: (if: (history:) contains "I need to get her to a hospital.")[] Ending 2: (if: (history:) contains "Get on with it.")[Abandoned] Ending 3: (if: (history:) contains "WE NEED TO GET HER TO A HOSPITAL.")[See You in Case 2!] Ending 4: (if: (history:) contains "YES, IT WAS" or "I... DON'T KNOW...")[Deserter] Ending 5: (if: (history:) contains "A gunshot rings out.")[Conspiracy Nut] Ending 6: (if: (history:) contains "Parry" or "Sidestep")[The Sucker got Punched] Ending 7: (if: (history:) contains "Give up.")[Quitter] [[Replay->you survive it.]]

Built out of heavy oak, the trunk sits closed, weathered and worn. Its brass lock was intact, but deep gouges mar the surface where someone had tried—and failed—to force it open. Whoever had been here was desperate to get inside. (click: ?page)[=//Apprently they didn't have the time nor the tools to finish the job,// Ace thought. (click: ?page)[=Even if the trunk wasn’t broken into, the intent was clear: the mystery someone believed there was something valuable inside. (click: ?page)[=[[Try to bust it open.]] (if: (history:) contains "Search Valone.")[[Try the key.]]

Ace reaches into his coat and pulled out his knife, jamming the blade into the gap between the lid and the trunk. He pries and twists, the wood creaking under the strain, but the lock refuses to budge. (click: ?page)[=“Come on,” he grunts under his breath, frustration building as he digs the blade deeper. As a last ditch effort, he drives his shoulder into the lid, but the trunk barely moves. The damn thing isn't going anywhere. (click: ?page)[=The lock is too rusted, too stubborn, and no amount of force is going to break it open. (click: ?page)[="Figures," he sighs, tossing the knife onto the floor in defeat. [[Back to the apartment->Investigate Valone's apartment.]]

The old leather chair lay on its side, stained with what could only be described as a mixture of sweat, blood, and piss. Evidently, this was where Valone was sitting before things went south. (click: ?page)[=Restrained, maybe? //No, there isn't anything to restrain him with.// (click: ?page)[=//Must've been sheer intimidation that kept him in that seat. The piss stain seems to vouch for that part, at least.// (click: ?page)[=//Valone maybe saw an opening and tried to get a blow in...// (click: ?page)[=//Or the guy killed the poor bastard out of mercy....// (click: ?page)[=And Ace can see why that might've been the case. Valone's body is black and blue all over. Cigarette burns tatter his wrists and knees. (click: ?page)[=[[Back to the apartment->Investigate Valone's apartment.]]

The key turns, and with a click, the lock opens. (click: ?page)[=Ace lifts the heavy lid, revealing messy piles of clothes and old trinkets. Nothing of use. (click: ?page)[=//There's gotta be something in here,// Ace thinks, determined to find the source of all this violence. (click: ?page)[=Pile after pile, clothes are thown on the floor dismissively. A stained shirt here, a pair of ripped pants there, until something catches Ace's eye. (click: ?page)[=Hidden beneath the layers, he pulls out a small, black ledger, barely the size of a wallet. (click: ?page)[=//This has to be it. Must not have wanted detailed evidence lying around.// (click: ?page)[=Expecting to find cold, hard numbers of Valone's mideads, Ace opens the book triumphantly. Instead, his eyes are met with insanity. (click: ?page)[=The pages are a chaotic mess, filled to the brim with nonsensical ramblings that spiral into madness. Words overlap, sentences loop back on themselves, and entire paragraphs were crossed out violently. Some phrases seem to repeat without meaning, others seem written as if they are chasing themselves across the page. (click: ?page)[=[[One line stands out among the rest, repeated time and time again...]]

(text-rotate-z:-2)["She //watches//, but she does not //see//.” Beneath it, in shaky script: “''The Astoria Theater'' cages the bird, but the stage is not real."] (click: ?page)[=Ace’s demeanor shifts, his fingers tracing the ink, trying to make sense of it all. Page after page hold more of the same fragmented thoughts. (click: ?page)[=(text-rotate-z:1)["The //beginning// is the //end//. The //end// was never //written//"], another passage reads, followed by a series of numbers that spiral off into the margin. (click: ?page)[=//Valone was a nutjob,// Ace laughs to himself. //What a loon.// (click: ?page)[=As Ace begins to close the book, one more line catches his eye: (click: ?page)[=(text-rotate-z:-2)[["A.S. is the key."]]]

His heartbeat thudding in his ears, Ace stares at the page. “''A.S.''”—his initials. It doesn't make sense. The ledger had been locked away, untouched by anyone but Ace. Yet here it is, as if Valone had written it just for him. (click: ?page)[=//Key to what.// (click: ?page)[=He flips through the pages again, searching, hoping for something more concrete, but comes up with nothing. Just the same mad ramblings. (click: ?page)[=The Astoria Theater. It's the only thing that even remotely made sense. He's grasping at straws, and he knows it. It's the only inkling of a lead he has, no matter how thin it feels. (click: ?page)[=He has no other choice but to follow it. [[Enter... Astoria Theater->Astoria Theater]]

The illustrious Astoria Theater, a husk of its former glory. Its once-grand architecture now decayed and forgotten. (click: ?page)[=Pushing through the large, rusted double doors, the hum of the city is drowned out by the cocophonous silence of the vast, empty lobby. (click: ?page)[=Ace moves silently through the corridors, his gun drawn and heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct screams at him to stay sharp, to be ready for whatever came next, as he's delving into unknown territory. (click: ?page)[=[[Check the stage.]] [[Check backstage.]]

Ace pushes through the second set of doors, eyes drawn to the emptiness of the stage ahead, dark and foreboding. Its eeriness sending a shiver down Ace's spine. (click: ?page)[=It feels... off, like the theater itself was watching, waiting for him to make his move. (click: ?page)[=//Someone's here...// (click: ?page)[=As Ace takes a step forward and, on cue, a single spotlight flickers on. (click: ?page)[=In the center of that light, a man stands, tall and motionless, as if he'd been waiting for Ace all along. (click: ?page)[=He is dressed in a crisp, black suit. His hands are clasped in front of him, and his eyes—cold, calculating—are fixed on Ace. A hollow smile is plastered on his face. (click: ?page)[=//Freaky...// (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["TALK TO HIM."]] (text-colour:red)[["SHOOT HIM."]]

Ace slips through the narrow hallway leading backstage, the creak of the old theater’s floorboards echoing in the still, dusty air. (click: ?page)[=He moves through the clutter. (click: ?page)[=Stacked props... (click: ?page)[=Old set pieces... (click: ?page)[=His eyes scan the shadows for anything that could lead him further. But it's empty. (click: ?page)[=Nothing. No signs of life. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["IT WAS WORTH A LOOK. CHECK THE STAGE."->"CHECK THE STAGE."]]

Ace pushes through the second set of doors, eyes drawn to the emptiness of the stage ahead, dark and foreboding. Its eeriness sending a shiver down Ace's spine. (click: ?page)[=It feels... off, like the theater itself was watching, waiting for him to make his move. (click: ?page)[=//Someone's here...// (click: ?page)[=As Ace takes a step forward, a single spotlight flickers on. (click: ?page)[=In the center of that light, a man stands, tall and motionless, as if he'd been waiting for Ace all along. (click: ?page)[=He is dressed in a crisp, black suit. His hands are clasped in front of him, and his eyes—cold, calculating—are fixed on Ace. A hollow smile is plastered on his face. (click: ?page)[=//Freaky...// (click: ?page)[=[["Who are you?"]]

"Correct choice!" the unnamed man bellows. "Recklessness won't get you anywhere. Yes let's talk." (click: ?page)[=Ace's voice is low and guarded. “Who the hell are you?” Ace can't put a finger on it, but something about this guy is uncanny. (click: ?page)[=The man chuckles, echoing through the empty theater. “Names don’t matter right now,” he replies, beginning to walk around the stage. The spotlight follows him somehow. “But I know you, detective. I know why you’re here!" (click: ?page)[=Ace can't stand the sing-songiness of his voice. It irritates him. (click: ?page)[=“Let’s just say I’ve been watching your... performance. And I’m here to see the grand finale.” (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["HE HAS TO STOP BEING SO CRYPTIC."]] (text-colour:red)[["HE NEEDS TO GET TO THE POINT."->"HE HAS TO STOP BEING SO CRYPTIC."]]

"Detective, that won't do at all," the unnamed man bellows. "I wouldn't listen to them. That behavior won't get you anywhere." (click: ?page)[=//I didn't even pull out my gun yet. What the hell?// (click: ?page)[="WHAT THE HELL?" (click: ?page)[=Ace's voice is low and guarded. “Who the hell are you?” Ace can't put a finger on it, but something about this guy is uncanny. (click: ?page)[=The man chuckles, echoing through the empty theater. “Names don’t matter right now,” he replies, beginning to walk around the stage. The spotlight follows him somehow. “But I know you, detective. I know why you’re here!" (click: ?page)[=Ace can't stand the sing-songiness of his voice. It irritates him. (click: ?page)[=“Let’s just say I’ve been watching your... performance. And I’m here to see the grand finale.” (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["HE HAS TO STOP BEING SO CRYPTIC."]] (text-colour:red)[["HE NEEDS TO GET TO THE POINT."->"HE HAS TO STOP BEING SO CRYPTIC."]]

“Let’s not waste any more time, Ace,” the man continues, his voice smooth as silk. “You can keep asking questions, but we both know you won’t like the answers.” (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["ALICE."]] (text-colour:red)[["THE NOTEBOOK."]]

“Why don’t you start by telling me what you know about Alice Graves?” Ace asked, his voice steady. (click: ?page)[=“Ah, Alice. What a sweet songbird she was. She gave us everything we needed." (click: ?page)[=Ace’s stomach churns and feels a knot tighten in his chest. You’re talking like she’s already gone.” (click: ?page)[=The man shrugs, his hands sliding into his pockets, the smile never leaving his face. “In some ways, she is. When you sing the right tune, detective, people listen. And Alice? Oh, she sang beautifully.” (click: ?page)[=“Where is she?” Every syllable Ace mutters spews with vitriole. (click: ?page)[=The man's eyes flicker with amusement. “Why? So you can save her?” He tilts his head slightly, as if considering the idea. “You always think you can save someone." Suddenly, he drops his smile. "She no longer has purpose. Loose ends tend to get tied up.” His smile widens. “...or cut." (click: ?page)[=The words hit Ace like a punch to the gut. The image of Alice, scared and lost, flash through his mind. She’d been dragged into something far bigger than either of them realized, and now it seems like she’s paid the ultimate price. (click: ?page)[=[[“What did you do to her?"->Wow]]

"You care about that pesky thing more than the woman you were chasing before? //Very// interesting..." He pauses a moment. "Would you like to know why we want it so much?" (click: ?page)[="Why not, if you're so eager to tell me," Ace scoffs. (click: ?page)[="Do not test me detective," his smile faltering for a split second. "It... (click: ?page)[=is ''God's will''." (click: ?page)[=Ace blinks, his lip curling in disgust. [[“God’s will? You seriously expect me to believe that?”]]

The man chuckles, echoing through the empty theater. “Names don’t matter right now,” he replies, beginning to walk around the stage. The spotlight follows him somehow. “But I know you, detective. I know why you’re here!" (click: ?page)[=Ace can't stand the sing-songiness of his voice. It irritates him. (click: ?page)[=“Let’s just say I’ve been watching your... performance. And I’m here to see the grand finale.” (click: ?page)[=//Real clever. Is he the freak that wrote in that ledger?// (click: ?page)[=“Okay, let’s not waste any more time, detective,” the man continues, his voice smooth as silk. “You can aks all the questions you want, but we both know you won’t like the answers.” (click: ?page)[=[[“Why don’t you start by telling me what you know about Alice Graves?”]]

“Ah, Alice. What a sweet songbird she was. She gave us everything we needed." (click: ?page)[=Ace’s stomach churns and feels a knot tighten in his chest. You’re talking like she’s already gone.” (click: ?page)[=the man shrugs, his hands sliding into his pockets, the smile never leaving his face. “In some ways, she is. When you sing the right tune, detective, people listen. And Alice? Oh, she sang beautifully.” (click: ?page)[=“Where is she?” Every syllable Ace mutters spews with vitriole. (click: ?page)[=The man's eyes flicker with amusement. “Why? So you can save her?” He tilts his head slightly, as if considering the idea. “You always think you can save someone. But Alice? She no longer has purpose. Loose ends tend to get tied up, ya know?” His smile widens. “...or cut." (click: ?page)[=The words hit Ace like a punch to the gut. The image of Alice, scared and lost, flash through his mind. She’d been dragged into something far bigger than either of them realized, and now it seems like she’s paid the ultimate price. (click: ?page)[=[[“What did you do to her?"]]

The man takes a casual step forward. “Nothing personal, detective. The things she knew, the thing she had... they were more important than she was. She helped us complete the picture, and now, well...” He gestures lazily toward the shadows. “She’s where she needs to be.” (click: ?page)[=Everything in him screams to rip the man apart, but he still needs answers. (click: ?page)[=//Why... why... why?!// (click: ?page)[="WHY?!" Ace screams. (click: ?page)[="BECAUSE GOD DECREES IT," the man screams, seemingly hitting his boiling point. “You think this is just about you? About //Alice//? You think this is all some simple case to crack?" (click: ?page)[="What the hell are you—?" (click: ?page)[="NO. NO MORE QUESTIONS." The man takes a second to recompose himself. "You're next on God's chopping block" he threatens, "and the fire will make sure his will is carried through." (click: ?page)[="Goodbye, detective." (click: ?page)[=And with that, the man spins, walking away into the shadows. (click: ?page)[=Ace sniffs the air and realizes that wasn't an empty threat. (click: ?page)[=[[Smoke.]]

The man takes a casual step forward. “Nothing personal, detective. The things she knew, the thing she had... they were more important than she was. She helped us complete the picture, and now, well...” He gestures lazily toward the shadows. “She’s where she needs to be.” (click: ?page)[=Everything in him screams to rip the man apart, but he still needs answers. (click: ?page)[=//Why... why... why?!// (click: ?page)[="WHY?!" Ace screams. (click: ?page)[="BECAUSE ''GOD DECREES IT''," the man screams, seemingly hitting his boiling point. “You think this is just about you? About //Alice//? You think this is all some simple case to crack?" (click: ?page)[="What the hell are you—?" (click: ?page)[="NO. NO MORE QUESTIONS." The man takes a second to recompose himself. "You're next on God's chopping block" he threatens, "and the fire will make sure his will is carried through." (click: ?page)[="Goodbye, detective." (click: ?page)[=And with that, the man spins, walking away into the shadows. (click: ?page)[=Ace sniffs the air and realizes that wasn't an empty threat. (click: ?page)[=[[Smoke.->smoke]]

An undeniable scent. Flames creep around the edges of the stage. Ace curses under his breath, instinctively stepping back as the fire creeps closer. The heat was becoming unbearable. His mind raced. //Where the hell did this fire come from?// Regardless, the theater was now a deathtrap, and if he didn’t move now, he’d be caught in it. “You’re running out of time, Ace,” the man calls out, his figure barely visible through the flames now. “The story’s already been written, and you’re just following the script.” Now, Ace needs to make a decision: [[Try to find Alice.]] [[Get out while he still can.]]

An undeniable scent. Flames creep around the edges of the stage. (click: ?page)[=Ace curses under his breath, instinctively stepping back as the fire creeps closer. The heat was becoming unbearable. (click: ?page)[=His mind race. //Where the hell did this fire come from?// (click: ?page)[=Regardless, the theater was now a deathtrap, and if he didn’t move now, he’d be caught in it. (click: ?page)[=“You’re running out of time, Ace,” the man calls out, his figure barely visible through the flames now. “The story’s already been written, and you’re just following the script.” (click: ?page)[=Now, Ace needs to make a decision: (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["TRY TO FIND ALICE."]] (text-colour:red)[[GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN."]]

The man’s eyes darken, any trace of amusement gone now. “You don’t have to believe it, detective. But you will see it. Everything we do, every choice we make—it’s all part of a grand design." (click: ?page)[=“I’ve seen plenty of psychos in my time, but this... this is a whole new level of crazy. You think you’re doing some divine work here? For what, a notebook full of scribbles?” (click: ?page)[=The man’s smile returns, sharper now, more menacing. “That notebook contains the truth. The truth about this world, about who you are, who I am, and who controls the story we're living in.” (click: ?page)[=Ace’s jaw clenches. This was pure, unadulterated insanity. But something about the way the man spoke gnaws at him. (click: ?page)[=“Then what?” Ace asked, his voice hard, challenging. “You get this notebook, and what? You control everything? You think you get to play God?” (click: ?page)[=The man’s eyes flicker with something close to pity. “We don’t play God, my poor man. We serve Him. And you’re just a piece on his board. Whether you choose to believe that or not, no matter.” (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["NO... IT'S NOT A GOD... IT'S YOUR WRITER. YOUR CREATOR."->"DON'T GIVE UP ACE."]] (text-colour:red)[["DON'T GIVE UP ACE."]]

Ace glares at the man, his heart pounding. (click: ?page)[=“Last chance, detective,” the man says, his voice calm again, but colder. “Walk away now, or keep digging. The truth... it’s not meant for people like you.” (click: ?page)[=Ace's played this game long enough. His fingers twitch toward his coat, and, in one fluid motion, he yanks his gun free, leveling it straight at the man’s chest. “I've heard too much talk like that,” Ace snarls. “Tell me where the notebook is, or so help me, I’ll make you regret ever showing your face.” (click: ?page)[=The man doesn’t flinch. His eyes settle on the barrel of the gun as if were a toy. (click: ?page)[=“Really, detective?” the man says, his tone completely unfazed by the show of force. “A gun? That’s the best you can do?” He chuckles. “Go ahead, detective. Pull the trigger, if that makes you feel better. But I promise you... it won’t bring you any closer to what you’re looking for.” (click: ?page)[=Ace’s grip on the gun tightens. “I’m done playing games. Tell me where it is.” (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["SHOOT HIM ALREADY."->"KEEP YOUR COOL."]] (text-colour:red)[["KEEP YOUR COOL."]]

Ace hesitates for only a second, but in that second, something clicks inside him. He couldn’t leave, not yet. Not without knowing for sure. (click: ?page)[=He turns back toward the flames, squinting through the thickening smoke. If there was any chance Alice was still here—he couldn’t walk away. Not now. (click: ?page)[=His heart pounds as he pushes deeper into the smoke-filled theater, every breath burning his lungs. The fire roars around him, and the heat is unbearable, but he keeps moving. (click: ?page)[=The dressing rooms—that’s the only place left she could be. He stumbles toward it, coughing through the haze, searching for any sign of life. (click: ?page)[=He kicks open the door to the first dressing room, flames licking at the walls as he scans the area. (click: ?page)[=Then, he saw it. (click: ?page)[=A small figure, slumped in a chair, barely visible through the smoke. (click: ?page)[=[[“Alice!”]]

His body screams to run, to leave before the fire consumed him. (click: ?page)[=Instinct takes over. He turns on his heel, sprinting for the exit, his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards. His hands push the door open, letting in a rush of cool, rain-soaked air. (click: ?page)[=But as the flames crackle behind him, something twists in his gut—a hollow emptiness. He wasn't able to get all the answers. And Alice... she was still lost, left somewhere inside the inferno. (click: ?page)[=[[Ace heads back to his office, ready to finally get the sleep he so desperately needs.]]

His body screams to run, to leave before the fire consumed him. (click: ?page)[=Instinct takes over. He turns on his heel, sprinting for the exit, his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards. His hands push the door open, letting in a rush of cool, rain-soaked air. (click: ?page)[=But as the flames crackle behind him, something twists in his gut—a hollow emptiness. He wasn't able to get all the answers. And Alice... she was still lost, left somewhere inside the inferno. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["IT WAS THE RIGHT CALL, ACE."->IT WAS THE RIGHT CALL, ACE]]

After a long, tired drive, Ace enters the office where this whole night started. (click: ?page)[=Ace slumps back into the worn leather chair in his dimly lit office, the weight of the night settling into his bones. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, much more than he probably should have, and takes a long, slow sip. (click: ?page)[=The moment keeps replaying in his mind—the flames licking up the walls, the heat on his back, the smoke in his lungs. He’d made the call, made the choice to save himself. (click: ?page)[=But now, sitting here in the quiet hum of his office, it feels… wrong. (click: ?page)[=The glass hits the desk with a soft thunk as Ace leans back, running a hand over his face. His eyes flicker over to the pile of paperwork that lay untouched in the corner. Case notes, and reports from a hundred other cases, all of it waiting for him. But not tonight. (click: ?page)[=[[Not tonight.]]

He needs sleep. His head throbs, his body aches, and everything else in him begs for rest. Paperwork could wait until tomorrow. It always did. (click: ?page)[=He tried to shake the nagging thoughts from his mind as he pours another glass. Maybe by morning, this would all feel like a bad dream. (click: ?page)[=But deep down, Ace knows that won’t happen. (click: ?page)[=The door creaks open behind him, the sound almost too soft to notice. He doesn’t move—no need to. He knows who it was. He’s felt this coming since he left the theater. (click: ?page)[=“You’re not supposed to be here,” comes the voice, smooth and unhurried. “You were supposed to die in that fire, detective.” (click: ?page)[=Ace leans back in his chair, staring out the window, the lights of New Ashport glowing faintly in the rain. “I don’t play by anyone’s game” he yawns, voice gravelly and tired. (click: ?page)[=He finally turns his head, just enough to catch the man’s reflection in the window. He stands there, with that eery detached smile forced through those lips. (click: ?page)[=Ace’s jaw clenches. “So you’re here to finish the job?” (click: ?page)[=The man nods, almost regretfully. “Nothing personal. It’s just the way things have to be.” (click: ?page)[=Ace stares at his reflection for a moment longer, then sighes. The choices, the escape, leaving Alice behind... it doesn’t matter now. He’d known it, deep down, the moment he walked out of that theater. He was already a dead man. (click: ?page)[=[[“Get on with it."->Get on with it.]]

//Was it?// He isn't so sure your voice is being truthful when you say that. //She might have still been alive.// (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["I... DON'T KNOW..."->I... DON'T KNOW...]] (text-colour:red)[["YES, IT WAS."->YES, IT WAS]]

//I'm glad you're as torn as I am then, asshole.// (click: ?page)[=After a long, tired drive, Ace enters the office where this whole shitshow started. (click: ?page)[=Ace slumps back into the worn leather chair in his dimly lit office, the weight of the night settling into his bones. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, much more than he probably should have, and takes a long, slow sip. (click: ?page)[=Sitting here in the quiet hum of his office, everything feels… wrong. (click: ?page)[=The glass hits the desk with a soft thunk as Ace leans back, running a hand over his face. His eyes flicker over to the pile of paperwork that lay untouched in the corner. Case notes, and reports from a hundred other cases, all of it waiting for him. Those should have been filed by... (click: ?page)[=//Maggie...// (click: ?page)[="Where's Maggie?" Ace jolts, instantly acutely aware of the aura surrounding him. (click: ?page)[="She's been... dealt with. Seems the fire wasn't enough for you, my dear detective," a voice calls from the dark corner in his office. (click: ?page)[="YOU. WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MAGGIE?!" Ace spits. (click: ?page)[="Like I said, nothing personal. This is simply God's wish." (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)["NO."] (click: ?page)[=Within a split second. Ace's world is brought to a standstill. His final case was, and still is, a mystery. (click: ?page)[=[[Ace's story has ended. Case closed.->Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]

//Whatever you say, asshole.// (click: ?page)[=After a long, tired drive, Ace enters the office where this whole shitshow started. (click: ?page)[=Ace slumps back into the worn leather chair in his dimly lit office, the weight of the night settling into his bones. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, much more than he probably should have, and takes a long, slow sip. (click: ?page)[=Sitting here in the quiet hum of his office, everything feels… wrong. (click: ?page)[=The glass hits the desk with a soft thunk as Ace leans back, running a hand over his face. His eyes flicker over to the pile of paperwork that lay untouched in the corner. Case notes, and reports from a hundred other cases, all of it waiting for him. Those should have been filed by... (click: ?page)[=//Maggie...// (click: ?page)[="Where's Maggie?" Ace jolts, instantly acutely aware of the aura surrounding him. (click: ?page)[="She's been... dealt with. Seems the fire wasn't enough for you, my dear detective," a voice calls from the dark corner in his office. (click: ?page)[="YOU. WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MAGGIE?!" Ace spits. (click: ?page)[="Like I said, nothing personal. This is simply God's wish." (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)["NO."] (click: ?page)[=Within a split second. Ace's world is brought to a standstill. His final case was, and still is, a mystery. (click: ?page)[=[[Ace's story has ended. Case closed.->Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]

He checks... a pulse! (click: ?page)[=She's just unconscious, her wrists tied to the arms of the chair, her face pale in the flickering light. (click: ?page)[=Cutting through her restraints, he hoists her up over his shoulder. His legs scream under the weight as he forces his way back toward the exit. (click: ?page)[=The fire is closing in fast now, the walls groaning as they buckle under the heat. But Ace doesn’t stop. He kicks through the door, the cold air hitting him like a splash of water as he staggers out into the rain, Alice still slung over his shoulder. (click: ?page)[=There are too many questions to ask and more that can't be answered. Especially not with Alice in the condition that she is in. (click: ?page)[=[["I need to get her to a hospital."->I need to]]

Rushing forward, Ace cuts the ropes with his knife, hoisting her up over his shoulder. His legs scream under the weight as he forces his way back toward the exit. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)["DON'T GIVE UP."] (click: ?page)[=The fire is closing in fast now, the walls groaning as they buckle under the heat. (click: ?page)[=Heeding your voice, Ace doesn’t stop. (click: ?page)[=He kicks through the door, the cold air hitting him like a splash of water as he staggers out into the rain, Alice still slung over his shoulder. (click: ?page)[=There are too many questions to ask and more that can't be answered. Especially not with Alice in the condition that she is in. (click: ?page)[=(text-colour:red)[["WE NEED TO GET HER TO A HOSPITAL."->We need]]

//I know!// (click: ?page)[=“Hang on, Alice,” Ace says, his voice low, barely audible over the growl of the car's engine as he gets in. (click: ?page)[=His mind races as the tires hiss through puddles on the asphalt. Ace takes another glance at Alice again, her chest rising and falling in slow, ragged breaths. For a moment, a flicker of doubt crosses his mind. (click: ?page)[=//Is this the right call?// (click: ?page)[=He could have had a chance at the notebook. He could have gotten some of the answers he needed. But then, as his eyes flick back to the road, the doubt fades. He made his choice, and for the first time in a long time, he was sure of it. (click: ?page)[=(align:"=><=")[[[To Be Continued...->Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]]

"Hang on, Alice,” Ace says, his voice low, barely audible over the growl of the car's engine as he gets in. (click: ?page)[=His mind races as the tires hiss through puddles on the asphalt. Ace takes another glance at Alice again, her chest rising and falling in slow, ragged breaths. For a moment, a flicker of doubt crosses his mind. (click: ?page)[=//Is this the right call?// (click: ?page)[=He could have had a chance at the notebook. He could have gotten some of the answers he needed. But then, as his eyes flick back to the road, the doubt fades. He made his choice, and for the first time in a long time, he was sure of it. (click: ?page)[=And then, out of nowhere, [[the world exploded.]]

"No, detective. I won't tell." "You are a blip in the cosmic system. You are not ''canon'' anymore. No matter what you do, this night does not end with anything but your death." (click: ?page)[=Ace’s patience snaps, his hand flying to his revolver. In a heartbeat, the cold steel is in his hand, aimed squarely at the man’s chest. “You’ve got one more chance to start making sense, or I swear to God I’ll—” (click: ?page)[=“You’ll what?” The man interrupts. “Shoot me? Kill me? Do you think that’ll change anything? Do you think I'm the only one?” (click: ?page)[=Ace’s hand trembles, just slightly. The weight of the gun felt heavier now, like it was pulling him down. He's used to threats, to danger, to facing men with guns and knives. (click: ?page)[=But this... this was different. (click: ?page)[=This man wasn’t scared. And somehow, that terrified Ace more than anything. (click: ?page)[=“I tire of this. It's time for the world to move on,” the man proclaims. (click: ?page)[=Before Ace can react, the man’s hand moves, impossibly fast. (click: ?page)[=[[A gunshot rings out.]]

Ace barely registers the headlights before the impact. (click: ?page)[=Pain. (click: ?page)[=Pain. (click: ?page)[=Pain. (click: ?page)[=The steering wheel wrenches from his grip as the car spins, tires skidding helplessly on the wet asphalt. (click: ?page)[=His body screams. His chest heaves as he tries to steady himself. Blood trickles from his forehead, dripping, dripping, dripping. (click: ?page)[=Through the haze of smoke, Ace’s head lulls toward Alice; her limp body, still in the passenger seat. She isn’t moving. (click: ?page)[=[[Then, he sees him.]]

Calm, collected. Moving with purpose. (click: ?page)[=Ace blinks through the blood, trying to make sense what he is seeing, but nothing does. (click: ?page)[=The man stops a few feet from the wreckage, his features obscured by the brim of his hat, except one thing: (click: ?page)[=A sickeningly hollow smile. (click: ?page)[=“Sorry I’m late,” the man says, his tone light. He reaches into his coat, pulling out a sleek revolver that gleams under the streetlight. “Traffic’s a killer.” (click: ?page)[=Ace’s heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline surging as he struggles to move, but his body won’t respond. Panic rises in his throat as the man raises the gun. (click: ?page)[=The man’s voice drops to a whisper. “This is just the way things have to be, detective.” //What th-// (click: ?page)[=The last thing Ace comprehends is the sharp crack of a gunshot. White-hot pain explodes in his skull, and then... (click: ?page)[=Nothing. (click: ?page)[=(align:"=><=")[[[Ace's story has ended. Case closed.->Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]]

(text-colour:red)"NO." (click: ?page)[=The pain is immediate and searing, cutting through him like fire. His legs buckle, and the world tilts as he hits the floor. Blood, warm and sticky, runs down his forehead, pooling beneath him. (click: ?page)[=The man looms over him now with a quiet, more satisfied smile on his face. “Goodbye, Ace,” he says, like it is nothing more than a casual farewell. (click: ?page)[=Ace’s world darkens. (click: ?page)[=His body grows cold. (click: ?page)[=And then... (click: ?page)[=Nothing. (click: ?page)[=(align:"=><=")[[[Ace's story has ended. Case closed.->Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]]

There is no final warning, no drawn-out speech. Just the soft click of the hammer being cocked back, and the sharp crack that echoes through the small office. (click: ?page)[=With a final glance around the room, the man turns and walks out as the rain outside continues its soft, steady rhythm. (click: ?page)[=The city moves on, indifferent as ever. (click: ?page)[=The way it always has. (click: ?page)[=(align:"=><=")[[[Ace's story has ended. Case closed.->Ace's story has ended. Case closed.]]]

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Ace Steele Private Investigations

Case 1:

The Disappearance of Alice Graves

Open