High Vis
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Date: 07/26/2018 Time: 19:00 EDT |
Hiawatha National Forest
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Cast: Storyteller: | |
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Jim will take his recordings and study them in his truck after getting back to it. He'll get the address/location of the home, the license plate and description of the car they drove there, general descriptions and names the men used All of that information. But his intent is only to give descriptions of the men to the ranger, as well as the general location of the bear that was freed with the trap still attached. Jim wants to get the bear HELP, then go home and plan justice. The Forest Service office has an empty parking lot, save for a single rather worn looking SUV painted in browns and greens, with a Forest Service seal on the doors, and an even more worn out looking station wagon that looks like it hasn't been manufactured in decades. Even on a pleasant summer day like this one, there simply isn't much call for rangers of any stripe up here. The building is pleasant enough, small, with the scent of cleaning products and burnt coffee. Only one man is inside. Parked at a big, metal box of a desk, his bushy mustache wiggles as he stares down the underside of his bifocals at an old CRT screen. Pecking out a sentence with his fingertips, elbows resting on his heavy gut. His Forest Ranger uniform just a little too tight for his stomach. He's balding, but his salt-and-pepper comb-over is carefully constructed to cover the worst. As Jim enters, he looks away from the screen. Seeming downright thankful to see another person. "Hi there!" he greets, pushing himself to his feet, "What can I do you for, stranger?" Jim comes on up, and pulls out his phone, with his notes. "Howdy," he smiles. "I'm here on account of needing to report a crime. I was hiking a bit. I'm from Texas, and I wanted to find a good place to take my parents up here. And I saw something that just ain't right. Some poachers were trying to trap a bear. I dug up the stake, but a poor ol bear is running around with a trap on his paw. I couldn't help him. I don't want a claw to the face." Again. "But I saw the men, and Ican tell you what they look like. And their car." "Bear traps? Well... Shit," the heavy man sighs, shaking his head. "Season doesn't even start until September. Where you say you saw this? Oh, wait, hold on. I better get a piece of paper. Gonna have to take a statement and all." He starts to step away from his desk. At some point, he's taken off his shoes. Leaving him only in socks that catch attention in how much they clash with his brown ranger's slacks. They're bright blue, with cartoon bones woven into them. He doesn't even seem to notice his shoes are off, though. "You feel free to pull up a chair from another one of these desk, though. I ain't the fastest on the computer, sorry, but we'll get this sorted out quick as we can." Jim has to think aobut what HE's going to do about these guys anyway, so time to think is fine. "Much obliged," he murmurs. Jim grabs a seat, and pulls it over, perching in it backward. Once seated, he begins flipping through his phone again. "I saw online that poachers cut up the bears and sel them to China. Just tell me what you need, and I'll answer." "Y'wanna cup a coffee?" the ranger calls from back over his shoulder, and it's clear that his trip for a piece of paper has turned into a coffee run. "No cream, sorry. Damn mini-fridge broke and there's no money to replace it until next season and then it'll be cold enough to just keep it by the darn window." The sigh at that is nearly identical to the one that followed 'bear traps'. But the ranger returns with two mugs of black coffee. One has Snoopy on the side of it, laying on top of a red dog house. The other declares the owner to be the world's #5 Greatest Granddad. "Alright, so... Where'd you say this went down? Oh, jeez, look at me. Gettin' all piggilty. I'm Ranger Greg Grealey. Pleasure," he holds out the Snoopy mug. Jim nods "Black is fine, thank you." Taking the mug, he chuckles. "Jim Gomez, nice to meet you Ranger." He'll then hold up his phone, showing on the map whereabouts the bear was. Which shouldn't be that hard since he was literally overhead, patrolling with a plan. Ranger Greg looks at the phone. First he squints, then he tilts his head back. Getting the screen into the proper range of his bifocals. Eventually he resorts to pinching the brown plastic stems between two fingers, lifting them up to center the screen on their lower half. His mustache curves downward. "Alright..." he says, as he takes a pen out of his breast pocket. It's a clicky-top, and his thumb bounces it up and down half a dozen times on his way down to a notebook. "And when was this? Well, wait, why don't you just tell me as much as you can and I'll start taking notes?" Jim sits up, taking his phone back after and checking the map again. "Well, I reckon I've been here every weekend for the last month, floating along, scouting all around the park. Hadn't found what I was looking for, but then that bear sure was hurtin'. No way that trap was accidental. I knew someone did that on purpose, and it ain't even season. Had to be poachers, so I did what I could to free the bear. I coudln't get the trap off the opor fella, on account of it being a metal trap, and I didn't have any tools with me, and if I tried Iwoudln't be able to heal very well if the bear attacked me." The beauty is every word he's saying is true. "I freed him, and I hid. When I saw them, I did my best to get a good look, following them a little. But they had guns and I didn't. So I gahtered myself, and came to y'all." As Jim talks, Ranger Greg writes. Jotting out things, holding up a finger when Jim gets ahead of him and quickly scribbling to catch up. His lips curl in between his teeth, and his mustache wiggles side-to-side as he goes. "And you say you got names of the fellows doing this? What were those?" Jim shakes his head. "I gave them names. I was calling one Skippy and the toher Dippy. Not very pleased with them." Jim shifts into Homid! <<DICE>> Jim rolls manipulation + subterfuge, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 1 success (4 6, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) <<DICE>> Alexandra rolls 3 dice, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 2 successes (2 8 9, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) "Huh, ok," Ranger Greg says, nodding. He looks up from his paper, at Jim. For a moment, he studies Jim with something that approaches a hard look on his soft, round face. "You said you got a look at their car? What were they driving?" he asks, turning back down to his notes. Jim chuckles. "I did follow them some." He'll then give a description of the vehicle. "I don't believe in making false accusations and reports. I can only tell you things I know for sure." And that being one of Raven's laws, is true. "I'm just a college student, ranger. I don't have tranquilzer guns and pry bars and all thet hings I reckon you'd need to give that bear proper help." <<DICE>> Jim rolls manipulation + subterfuge, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 1 success (5 8, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) <<DICE>> Alexandra rolls 3 dice, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 3 successes (8 8 10, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) "Alright..." Ranger Greg nods. His eyebrows furrow together softly, looking down at his notes. Pen turning over in his fingers, he taps the end against his desk. Rereading his notes, he sighs softly. "Now, I'm sorry but... A couple of things here just ain't adding up. Maybe you can help me out a bit. You said you came across him while you were hiking? Or scouting? Ok. And you didn't want to get close, and I don't blame you. Hurt bear's a dangerous animal. But you say you did yank the stake loose? "Now, I'm not much of bear hunter, but I know a trap. And I ain't never seen one where the lead was more than two, three feet long. And those stakes go deep. Basically just a piece of rebar nailed down into the ground. How'd you manage to get close enough to do that?" Jim grins. "I was scouting." He lifts his arms out to each side. "Just zooming around, getting a good look all over the place." He then smiles. "The bear is dangerous, but the bear was hurt. I think he wore himself out trying to get free, so I was able to dig out the spike with a rock and my own self." He gestures with a crooked index finger to signify his beak, not that the man will get that. And when I loosened iit enough, I just gave her a big tug, and she came right out, and the bear took off to hide. I was just lucky I guess. If'n he made even one mean look at me I was getting up in a tree." "Huh," Ranger Greg nods. It's obvious he isn't quite buying Jim's cover story, no matter how technically true it may be. "And you managed to do that, and stay hidden there while the hunters came. You listened to them talk, and followed them back to their truck. But you didn't think to write down a license plate number, or even happen to overhear a name or anything else? Really think hard about it, now?" He says, gently, offering Jim an avenue to correct himself. Jim smiles easily enough. You can be relaxeed when you've fallen back to telling basically the whole truth. "Yes sir. Weren't hard to follow them in their bright yellow vests. They were right steamed that the bear got away. I made some noises to tease 'em a bit, make 'em think they're going crazy. But it didn't work. They were too mad." A deep frown draws down the corners of Ranger Greg's mustache. He settles back in his desk chair, arms crossing on top of his round stomach. He wears a cheap, plastic digital wrist watch with a rubber wrist band. "Well, I'm sorry to say it, Mister, um, Mister Gomez, was it? But it's a big woods. Unless you can bring me something more than you've got, I'm afraid there just isn't much we can do for you. There's rangers out their patrolling as is. But I can't have them sent out on a goose chase on your say-so alone. Maybe if you had a plate number, or a name, or something else to go on..." he sighs softly. Then, something catches him. "Yellow vests?" Jim nods "Yes sir, high vis. They weren't hunting for sport." He takes a breath. "Honestly sir, I was mostly concerned about the bear. I was hoping y 'all could try to find him and help him out. I woudln't know how to do that." Ranger Greg's fingers pinch on the stem of his glasses again. "I'll put out an alert on the radio to be on the look out, but I have to tell you, odds ain't too good of us finding him. Mostly a hurt bear'll just find a place to hide, and we're not likely to find a black bear doesn't wanna be found," he sighs softly, head shaking. "Now, just a couple more things. About how far'd you say you had to follow them, to get from the trap to their truck?" Jim will tell him roughly how far it was. "Good question sir, maybe that'll help some. But... I can show you the map again. Y'all have a map here, a wall map? I can point out where I found him there. He can't have gotten too far." Ranger Greg nods, and points to the far wall. A topographical map, with the geographic features of the park mapped out, along with the roads that criss-cross through it sparsely. There's a row of thumb tacks under the map. "Just grab one or them tacks and put it about where you remember being." Jim nods, and grabs two thumb tacks. Using his phone as a guide, he'll do his best to put one where the bear was, and marks it with a little piece of paper that says BEAR. Then he marks where they parked, and marks it CAR. "Anything else I can do to help you help the bears ranger?" It's with a little heave that Ranger Greg pushes himself up to his feet again. He walks around the desk, coming over to the map. Squating down a little to squint at where the tacks lay. Adjusting his glasses with one hand, he starts to move his fingers over the map slowly. Reading some of the nearby features in their small, italicized font. But, finally, he stands upright again, and looks Jim over one more time. "Son, I wanna help you. Really, hand to God," he places a hand over his heart, lifting up the other meaty palm. "I do. I will do all I can, if you'll just be honest with me about what's going on here. You got a score to settle with one of these fella's? I don't care. Just let me know about it and we'll get it all worked out. I'm just askin'. You got anything else to tell me?" Jim turns and raises his hand, palm out. "Sir. I'm not all that worried about you finding them. I only care about the bear. But what, you think just a lone Texan in the woods is going to be a master tracker?" <<DICE>> Jim rolls perception + empathy, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 3 successes (1 5 6 9 9 9, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) <<DICE>> Alexandra rolls 2 dice, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 1 success (5 8, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) Ranger Greg sighs. His offer had been sincere, and still it was rejected. He knows there's more to this situation, though. He nods his head a few times, "Alright. Well... You stay out of trouble. And I mean that. I'll put out word about a wounded animal. Can I get your phone number? I'll call you, if we do find anything." <<DICE>> Jim rolls perception + primal urge, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> FAIL (1 1 2 4 5 9 10, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) Jim smiles. "Thank you," he says with all sincerity in return. "I care about this. I've read a lot about this national forest, and the animals in it. And I want to make right by that poor bear." He'll give the number. He has nothing to hide (well... as far as Ranger Greg will ever know). He does give the man a quick once over... but obviously doesn't get a read. Jim will return to the region a few days later, giving himself some time to rest after concentrating so hard with the bear. He'll return loaded for bear... poachers. In his truck, driving to where they apparently live. Jim isn't going to drive right up their driveway mind you. Just... nearby. <<DICE>> Jim rolls perception + investigation, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 2 successes (1 2 2 3 5 7 7 10, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) As Jim drives past the trailer home, the details he saw the other night stand out more vividly. The gap between the trailer and the steps to the door. The green Kai is gone from the driveway. The rusted truck, hood still open, sits in place. But now the pink bicycle circles the drive way slowly, turning back before reaching the road's edge by a dark hair young girl. The Man-in-Orange is at one end of the house, his eyes moving between the girl, and the wire-snips he's working with to cut free a length of chain-link fence from the bail balanced between two wooden work-horses. On the other side of the trailer, Jim can see a plastic garbage can with claw marks down the side. Jim is going to park in the trees, having seen all this. Park out of sight. Lock up the car, crack a window enough to let a raven out, and shift, to go fly right over to the trailer, and land right on top of it, with a view of both of them. Jim shifts into Corvid! <<DICE>> Alexandra rolls 5 dice, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 4 successes (4 7 8 10 10, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) <<DICE>> Jim rolls perception + alertness, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 4 successes (1 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 8 9 10, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) The girl continues to ride her bike up and down the U-shaped drive way. Never quite touching the pavement. The man watches her as Jim lands with a bit of noise on top of the trailer's metal roof. He startles, and jerks his head up. His hand moves back to his shoulder- as if for a rifle. His eyes dilate, a moment of panic. But it clears out quickly. He shakes his head, pulling a package of Marlboros from his back pocket. Jim is going to fly off the roof, and land on the fence, such that the kid is between himself and the man. He then invokes Voice of the Mimic to imitate the girl's voice. "Is that a bear?" "What? Where?" the man asks, genuine concern in his voice. He steps away from his work, dropping his cigarette into the gravel of the driveway. His jaw set, hard. His attention no longer near the bird. Instead scanning the woods in all directions. "Angela, go inside, watch your show," the man orders in his rough voice. The girl hits the breaks on her bike, "Aw, but, I wanna help y-" "Go." Jim waits until the child is inside, and then imitates the roar of a bear. WAtching the man, ready to move at a moment's notice. The man's toes dig into the dirt. He sprints toward the front door. A shake in his palms. Tearing the door open, it slams behind him. The windows sliding closed as he rips through the small house. Jim gets to work. Step one, get to the car, check if the keys are in it. If they are, swipe them. Step two, fly to the roof, and start tapping, hard with the beak. Inside the trailer, there's a muffled voice of the man. Too indistinct through the building to make out. The windows slide shut and lock. Sealing the trailer tightly. More noise from within. Faintly, when he draws close to a window, Jim can hear the sound of a young girl crying. Jim feels really badly about that. But this is a bad guy. Probably messing with some even worse people. So he has to take a moment to remind himself of all this, and that he's doing the right thing, for a very important cause. So, he finds a vent on the roof, one that will let him be heard inside, and he imitates the child again. "We know what you did, and you need to stop. The bears have friends, and they are watching you." The man's voice inside grows louder for a moment, then quieter. Jim does not know what's going on inside. Jim makes sure he does NOT drop the keys down the vent, by carefully putting them down on the roof. He'll then continue right on speaking into the vent int he girl's voice. "Aw, I want to help you. Come out." Using her own actual words this time. <<DICE>> Jim rolls perception + alertness, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> FAIL (1 1 1 2 2 2 4 4 4 5 8, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) No reaction comes from within the trailer. None of the windows move. The door stays tightly shut. Jim still feels kind of guilty about this. But he persists. Leaving the keys where he knows where they are, and the man doens't, he goes to the BACK side of the trailer, looking at the windows there. Are they covered? Can he see inside? The windows are frosted plastic. Seeing through them is possible but indistinct. Jim cannot see anyone though any of the windows, until he reaches the one at the narrow end of the trailer. It does not look into a room, but rather the narrow hallway that leads to each room in turn. There, he can see the man, on his knees. His body curled, the pink sneakers of his daughter sticking out. He holds a heavy revolver in his hand, pointed up toward the ceiling. His hand trembles and shakes, but he keeps it raised. Eyes darting this way and that, wide, panicked. Jim flinches at that. This is terrible. The poor kid. The poor, poor kid. Also, the idiot man. No handgun is going to stop an adult black bear. Come ON. He perches on the window, and does one more bit of speech. He quotes the Bible. "Vengeance is mine. I will pay them back, the Lord promises. Do not be mastered by evil, but master evil with good." All of that, in the child's voice. He then flies back to the roof, grabs the keys, and drops them onto the porch before flying off, and back to his truck. Getting into his truck, and getting on the road to go right back to the ranger station. Romans 12:19,12:21, NJB <<PROVE>> Jim has the following value for 'Soft Hearted' Flaw: TRUE
It's more than an hour's drive to ranger's station, thanks to the twisting, turning back roads. They weave around hills too small to be mountains by a few meters. Jim pulls into the ranger's station. The same two cars are parked outside. Jim cries a bit on the way over. He cries, he prays, he thinks about things. He's putting it in the Lord's hands. He's rubbing his eyes as he steps back into the station. Ranger Greg sits at his desk, in nearly exactly the same position as he was days before. He looks up, and then pushes himself back to his feet. "Hello again, Mister Gomez. Back with something else?" <<DICE>> Alexandra rolls 3 dice, difficulty 6 <<DICE>> 1 success (5 5 10, Specialty: No, Willpower: No) Jim closes his eyes tight, gathering himself. He takes a deep breath, and nods. "I do. I didn't want to put a man in jail over this, but I've changed my mind." Whether the ranger speaks or not though, Jim gets right to work. He grabs a pen, and some paper wherever he can find them. He begins writing. Names. Descriptions. License plate. Address. The man with the red, watery eyes doesn't say a word, no matter what Greg says or does. Not until this is done. The ranger doesn't interrupt. He doesn't even offer coffee. He stands, silently, watching. His mustache pushed into a frown. Finally, when Jim finishes, he takes the note pad. He reads it slowly. "Alright, son. Why don't you sit down for a minute? I'll get you a cup of coffee and we'll talk this one out." He rips off the piece of paper and tucks it into his back pocket. Then he's off, in his corgi-covered socks, to the little coffee machine against the far wall. Jim nods, rubs his eyes, and takes a seat. He'll take the coffee, and drink it. Wishing it were a beer instead but tha twill have to wait until he gets home. The world's fifth greatest grandpa rolls his chair out from behind his desk before sitting again. Leaving no barrier between himself and Jim. He takes a sip of his coffee, wincing for a moment at how bitter it is. The mug sets down on the desk. "You don't need to worry about me arresting Hank Ishkode. I'm gonna drive out to Hank's place this afternoon. Do you wanna know how I know his name is Hank Ishkode?" Because Jim never learned the Man-in-Orange's name. Jim looks up, rests the side of his face on his hand, his elbow on the arm of the little office chair. "I had something to say, but I want to hear what you have to say first, Ranger." Ranger Greg sighs heavily, and nods. His thick hands settle onto his knees. "Hank was in here about two weeks ago, complaining that a bear had been breaking into his garbage, looking for scraps. Got a couple other complaints, too. And, well, there just ain't much we can do. Station's undermanned. I couldn't track down a black bear in my twenties, let alone now. People live all through the area. Just tell people to lock things up, rebuild a fence, eventually it'll move on to other places to feed." The ranger shakes his head. His frown is gone, replaced by a sort of sad smile. "Hank's been... He's been a little twitchy since he got back from his tours over in the Iraq? Paranoid. I guess this bear thing got him riled up, y'know? He and his buddy, Tommy Lawrence? That's probably the Tommy you saw him with. Must've taken it on themselves to protect Hank's family." "Don't worry. I'm not gonna arrest him. Just go out there, talk to him. Make sure he's getting to the VA clinic like he's supposed to. Look, this all... Hank's a good guy, at heart. He's sick, mostly. Gets some bad ideas like this once or twice a year." Ranger Greg stands up, setting a hand on Jim's shoulder. Giving it a squeeze, "I wish you would'a told me this sooner. I had a feeling, but when I went out there, Hank didn't say a word about it. Why would he? Don't worry, son. "You did the right thing." | |
