Taleska Ghost Town, N/A

[Jackie Cat]

Jesse sniffed. "Can't exactly have night and day 'neath the surface like this, can you?"

Lopunny pointed up, towards the nearest gaslamp. "Our lights dim and brighten with the sky above." (The hissing flame guttered in its cage.)

Noctowl cocked his head, repeatedly, each movement evoking the hands of a ticking clock.

"Two hours remain," he cooed, softly. "One hour has been spent."

Jesse hissed through his teeth. It certainly hadn't been anything like an hour. Which meant they didn't have anything like two hours left.

"Time doesn't mean much down here," he warned Dave. "Fuckin' dungeons, y'know. The time is whatever the time wants to be."

He scanned the apparitions, wondering if he could guess guilt. Something told him the dungeon wouldn't let him get away with scapegoating someone. It wouldn't be that easy. But he had to move the conversation back to someone other than Dave, either way.

"You, Scrafty. Thievul. You were havin' a contentious argument a moment ago. Do either of you have a genuine and sober-minded suspicion of the other?"

He stepped forwards, willing the bickering and paranoia to fall on one of these poor fellows, and not the living dog he needed to get out of here.

"He ain't from 'round 'ere," drawled Scrafty, hands at his hips as if he were about to draw a revolver right then and there.

"The gentlemon giving me the evil eye is eager not to have his whereabouts questioned," growled Thievul, smooth and dark.

The rest of the crowd began to close in.

 

[Butterfree]

Some freaky fucking definition of two hours, huh. Dave swallowed bile. At least, if this was anything like the party games he'd gotten roped into at college once or twice, there was supposed to be an actual culprit or culprits to find. And these idiots sure weren't going to find them if their idea of how to do that began and ended with He ain't from around here.

He looked between the Scrafty and Thievul. "Okay, well, does either of you have an alibi? Somebody who can vouch for where you've been for the past few hours?"

 

[Jackie Cat]

Scrafty's head twitched, and for a moment, his expression seemed acutely, gauntly real.

"I were mendin' Ms. Nidorina's fence, as a favour, weren't I? You'd have to wait to ask her about that, though. On account of her health an' all. This one? Ain't nobody saw him up to anythin' good. Nobody."

Thievul's smile didn't reach his eyes. "The good gentlemon forgets I was settling accounts at the assay office. Mrs. Unfezant can attest to my being there for some time today, arguing compensation – as one does, 'uh? But this fellow, I notice he does not claim a witness who can speak for him..."

"What're you implyin'?" snarled Scrafty.

"Hang fire," interrupted Jesse, putting out a palm like it were a spell of arrest. "Why can't Nidorina testify?"

Noctowl coughed mildly. "She takes laudanum this time a' day, sir. Enough to put her deep in the blackest sleep. It's for her pains."

"Which leaves our friend here without alibi, no?" pressed Thievul, his eyes hungry.

 

[Butterfree]

Oh, convenient. Totally an alibi, but the one person who can confirm it is out of commission. "Okay, so, mending her fence? Is that an outdoor fence? Anyone else who would've gone by and could confirm if they saw you there? Neighbors who might've looked out their windows? Anything?" Dave looked around at the other phantasms. "And where's, uh, Mrs. Unfezant? Any chance to fetch her to corroborate? And what about everyone else? Do you all have alibis?"

 

[Jackie Cat]

"Slow your roll a li'l there, partner," said Jesse, out of the corner of his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for these ghosts to start paying too much attention to Dave, or acting like he was trying to pull a fast one on them by hammering them with so many questions.

He glanced upriver, then downriver.

"Maybe it's just my eyesight, but I don't see any ranches down here," he drawled, focusing his attention on Scrafty. "What fences are these, then?"

"Fences fer keepin' folks from tumblin' into the gusher," answered Scrafty, with a touch of contempt. "'S'important."

Jesse looked around. "Any of you fine folks as can vouch fer your neighbour here?" He asked.

No appendages were raised.

"Well, that's a hard fortune, mister," murmured Thievul. "I'll say a prayer over your casket."

Scrafty's face contorted with rage as the apparitions began to whisper morbid norions amongst themselves.

"N–no," he stammered, "no, he did it, he's the sonofabitch we're after. I saw, I saw him, I say, with li'l Annie, bendin' her ear, puttin' his paws on her, an' she wouldn't have it. That's why he done it, I tell you. He's a jealous hunter, an' he wouldn't take her rejection but fer a wound!"

There were hushed breaths from the ghosts. Thievul's stance lowered as if to pounce.

Jesse levelled a digit at Scrafty. "An' how come you didn't mention this before?"

"W–well, you, uh, y'know." If the lizard could sweat, he surely would've. "Can't go accusin' a 'mon like that, runnin' yer mouth, 'less you're damn sure, or you gotta speak up. An' if it's my skin on the line, 'course I'll mention any damn true thing as'd help me, right?"

Jesse shook his head. "That's weak ale," he said. "Where were you when y'saw this, anyhow?"

"The bar," came the quick reply.

"If you saw me there, I sure didn't see you, friend," hissed Thievul.

"The saloon, huh?" growled Jesse. "And what were you doin' there that this fella didn't catch wind of ya?"

Scrafty's eyes flicked to the crowd. The expressions they wore weren't forgiving.

"B-behind the counter," he admitted, with a speck of defiance. "I were lookin' fer coin. I got light fingers, an' I'll admit to that if it's what spares me a hangin' sentence. I didn't even pilfer anythin', I was too busy listenin' on this one!"

Lopunny's mouth drew back in fury. "You'll be lucky if I only ban you from the premises," he threatened.

"Fine! But he's the one who had motive, weren't he?? I knew Annie fer a childhood friend, how'd I ever bring harm on her, huh??"

Scrafty pointed a quivering digit at Thievul, whose eyes had grown dark.

"Well now I know it had to be you, you scoundrel," he said, in a low voice. "Because the poor miss there? She was fairly delighted by my attentions, sir. She agreed to share a drink with me tonight, in fact. Now tell me, why would I hurt a lady whose pleasant company I were so eagerly anticipating, 'uh? I think I know just what happened. I think you had eyes for Annie, and you couldn't stand to see a vaquero with fancy airs courting your sweetheart, 'uh?"

Thievul's nostrils flared.

"And that's the scent of her perfume I smell on you, blaggard. It is, is it not?"

The preacher Noctowl fixed Jesse with the widest of eyes.

"Sheriff, you must make the call."

Jesse's teeth bit into his own cheek. Fuck. He shot a look to Dave for any sign at all that the Mightyena had some insight. The crowd were shuffling towards the two accused accusers, teeth bared. The gaslamps flickered, and dimmed.

Out of time...

 

[Butterfree]

Fuck. What the fuck. He hadn't believed the Scrafty for a moment when he'd suddenly brought up that he'd conveniently forgotten to mention the guy he was accusing sexually harassing the victim, but then the fucking Thievul had freely confessed that he had been chatting her up at the saloon. Dave looked between the two, the gas lamps flickering at the edges of his vision. "Anyone at all who can corroborate any of that? Saw this guy and Annie together at the bar, or can confirm if that guy smells of her perfume, or whatever the fuck? Lopunny, I take it you're the bartender? You see any of this shit going down?"

Christ, it didn't even fucking matter. None of these people were real. Just a bunch of fake fucking dungeon illusions setting up a fucked-up puzzle. There was no murder, no mob, no real consequences to any of this.

As the crowd closed in, the Scrafty's hand trembled, the lizard's eyes wide with fear.

 

[Jackie Cat]

Lopunny didn't take his eyes off Scrafty.

"I saw the Thievul in my establishment, yes. We serve anyone who leaves their weapons at the door."

"Annie told me she liked Tenacine accents," offered Mudsdale, her voice anxious and uncertain.

"Scrafty's a fuckin' thief," snarled Granbull. "I knew it. The bastard's got gamblin' debts."

"That's not relevant to the case," warned Jesse, putting a palm up.

"Sure it is! Means he's got low character."

"So does he smell of it or not?"

"Sure he does!"

"You're just smelling her body!"

"Hang the Thievul!" shrieked Scrafty, shaking, "not me, the Thievul, hang him!"

Gods, this was fucked up. This was probably how it happened. Or close enough to it, anyway. The trauma of it bleeding through time and space for anyone who ended up here to witness, again and again. There probably wasn't any way to make it right, or even lessen the evil of it. That wasn't the kind of place this was. Was it...?

"He... He should stand trial in front of a jury of his peers," said Jesse, stepping forward.

Noctowl put a wing on his chest, and pressed him back.

"There's no judge here, lawman," said the preacher bird. "There's no court. There's only this."

The burlier phantasms stepped forward to take Scrafty by his arms.

They weren't real. They were ghosts of the long-damned. Saving Scrafty wouldn't save a living person, it'd only risk the two of them not getting the fuck out of this goddamn place.

Jesse still bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

 

[Butterfree]

"I saw the Thievul in my establishment, yes. We serve anyone who leaves their weapons at the door."

"Okay, but did you see him with her? Did she seem into it or no?" (Not that it'd be proof of fucking anything if she had been, other than that Scrafty'd been embellishing what he claimed to have seen to grasp for an alternate suspect.) "Do any of you have any actually useful information?"

If there was an answer, it was lost in the noise of the phantasms squabbling back and forth. Jesse was there in the middle of it trying to talk some sense about how justice was supposed to work only to be flatly ignored. Multiple sets of hands grabbed the Scrafty's arms from behind, dragging him away as he yelled.

God, fuck this dungeon. How were they even supposed to get a good idea of what'd happened out of this irrational mob in the space of minutes of confusion and panic and back-and-forth accusations? What kind of fucking game was this?

He wanted to yell something about how they clearly cared more about slaking their fucked-up bloodlust than about actually finding out who'd killed this girl, but the words stuck in his throat, nauseating. Not real. What did it matter anyway? They were just the audience to the dungeon's morbid little play. Maybe, when they'd eliminated Scrafty, they'd get to flip over a little card and it'd just say if he was guilty. At least that'd be an actual bit of reliable information.

The lizard struggled madly in the phantasms' grip, eyes practically popping out of his skull.