Call of C'Handler

"Dude, those two look like faggots. Oh, and I found this thing. I have no idea what it says cause, like, reading is faggy and shit, yah knows what I mean?"
Tyce shoves another piece of paper in Toadvines face. It reads:
"Initial imaging of bottom of pit shows solid surface approx. 1 kilometer beneath ground level. Multiple flat vertical surfaces. Analysis: Safe for excavation and pipe-laying."
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The sight of the drawing that Toadvine showed caused November to feel a shiver crawl up her spine as déjà vu struck her. The question of why it looked familiar to her arose in her mind, thoughts scrambling to make sense of where she had seen it before. Her freehand going to her temple as she rubbed it in attempts to clear her thoughts.

The times long ago were a blur to dogkin after the incident that cost November her eye and sense of humanity. Trying to put two-and-two together was boggling her mind as she tried to conjure up why the figures looked so familiar.

“Whoever that drawing is supposed to depict, I don’t like them,” she growled, looking away.
 
"The dog woman appeared to be deep in thought. Toadvine recognized the look on her face. She had found the same eerie familiarity in the drawing as he did. He still remembered the grotesque creatures like the one depicted in that drawing. Everyone remembered them subconsciously but only Toadvine chose to acknowledge his memories. He hadn't just crafted those medallions himself after all.

We ought to take a look in that pit, Toadvine chimed in. Where'd that journalist get to? Toadvine glanced around the office but there was no sight of the youthful ex-journalist. Toadvine exhaled and slipped the drawing into a pocket in his duster."
 
I feel something drawing me to the pit. I don't know what it is, but I feel drawn to it. As if somehow my destiny is here. Then, I hear a gruff voice.

"What the hell are you doing, kid?!"
 
"Toadvine and the youth stood staring each other down. Don't go down there, Toadvine said. His voice had a hint of trepidation to it. The dog woman and the junkie stood some distance behind him. Somethins amok in that cave. I feel it in my gut. The kid looked at him blankly. Come here. Take a look at these here papers."
 
Tyce absentmindedly twirls the gun on his fingers, until, predictably, it goes off. With a deafening explosion, it fires a .44 bullet into the air and falls harmlessly to the ground. The .44 bullet flies off into the air and comes down on a highway several blocks away, where it enters the windshield of a gas tanker, which causes the driver, Harridan Freemont, to panic and make a wide swerve, which slams the tanker into a guardrail and causes it to explode in a massive fireball which Harridan throws himself away from it in slow motion. This results in a massive multicar pileup, which ultimately results in 17 hospitalizations, 130 injuries, and over a million dollars in damages.

All of this is unnoticed by our heroes, who are stumbling around clutching their ears and screaming in pain. "Oh shit man, what the fucking fuck Jesus cuntfaggot buttfucking FUCK!!!!!" Tyce screams as he falls flat on his face.

After everyone has regained their sense of hearing, the discussion returns to the cave. The more observant members of the group silently wonder what all the sirens in the distance are.
Suddenly, Tyce speaks.
"So, like, if there's something down there, like, can we just lower a camera on a rope down there to like, recon the situation, yah know what I mean? Or tape a camera to a remote controlled car on a rope and send it down, like in BLOPS."
 
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"This ain't a goddamn videya game, Toadvine snapped at the junkie. We don't have any goddamn cameras and we don't have any of this other crap you was on about. He stood and thought for a second while the sirens blared in the distance. He turned to the dog woman and the youth. Do either of ya have any ideas? For surveyin' that cave?

As Toadvine awaited their response he noticed the junkie stooping down to pick up the pistol. For Christ's sake, Toadvine said exasperatedly. At least put the safety on this time."
 
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I look at the drawing below the note for a moment. And then, it hit me. I recognized what this creature was! I didn't know why this overweight man was directing it, but I knew that this was a powerful creature native to Quickville. Or was anyway. There may have been a connection between this creature and the Sonees and Roseys no one else saw, but I couldn't know for certain. Either way, I saw a ramp leading down into the pit. I had to somehow convince my fellow investigators to follow me, but how?
 
Tyce fiddles with the safety before sticking the Deagle in his pants waist and turning to Toadvine.
"Dude, my friend Jace has a camera. I can just, like, convince him to lend it to me, tape a flashlight or some shit to it, and lower it down. Cause, you know, I don't want to go down there, and I know you don't like, either. It's either that or we lower you or Nick down with one of my US Army Walky-Talkys."
He points to the GI Joe Walky Talkys on his fanny pack strap.
 
With a roll of her eye and an exasperated sigh, November couldn’t help but to chuckle at how out there Tyce’s ideas were. Surely, the kid had to be joking. Right?

Nonetheless, November figured that the pit was the key location for now and she was more than willing to go investigate in order to achieve that reward. She folded up the letter before reaching into her messenger and pulled out a flashlight and armed herself with a knife in her other hand, passing a mischievous look to the group.

“We have a job to do, so we better get to it,” she stated, moving towards the door, swishing her furry tail behind her. There was a gleam in her eye as the thought of dwelling into the abyss brought a chill of excitement to shiver up her spine.
 
Tyce grunts and brushes some Cheetos dust off his shirt. He turns to his goonsc hands them his Walky Talkys, and starts heading to the dilapidated van.
"Fuck it, I'm grabbing Jace's camera. I've played Left 4 Dead, like, I know that you don't go in dark areas alone or you get eaten, by, like, faggots. Big Jim, Derrick, Nick, you stay here with the Walky Talkys and, like, get Intel from them, cause, like, they've got the other Walky Talky."
Tyce takes one last shot of Jenkim, throws the bottle into the chasm, and speeds off to Jace's house for some weed and a camera.
 
About thirty minutes later, Tyce is in Jace's house. Jace isn't home, but Tyce remembers the key under the back doormat that he uses to get into Jace's house and teabag him while he's asleep. The camera's also right on the table. Score!
"Taaaah, I'm so gonna prank Jace." Tyce mumbles as he grabs the camera.
The tape's full up though. Jace never upgraded to digital. The tape appears to just be a recording of him attacking a milk bottle with a kitchen knife on a stick. Tactical.
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"Aw shit man, tape's full. Shit, Jace probably has a few in his desk drawer."
Tyce stomps off to Jace's room, where he sweeps the dirty shirts and Gamerfuel cans off the desk, opens the drawer, and begins rifling through the contents. He grabs a tape, shoves it in the video camera, and pockets the other tape for blackmail.
"Yah know, Jace probably has some good shit in here." Tyce says to himself as he begins hurling various objects around and opening Jace's multiple cabinets, containers, and other hiding spots in the search for weed and #easymony.
 
"Toadvine took a swig from the bottle of spiced whiskey he kept in his duster. He gazed across the yard with his impenetrable glare. He could see the junkie's comrades in their element, flailing around flippantly and generally being boorish. The one Toadvine had attacked had a bandage around his neck. Toadvine looked away quickly.

What's taking him so long, Toadvine said to no one in particular. Why does he need that camera so desperately? As Toadvine said this he begin to examine his revolver and his spare ammunition. The weapon weighed heavily in his hands. It's effectiveness had been demonstrated many times in the past. Many chus had fallen to the handgun, too numerous to count perhaps.

Toadvine finished feeling the revolver and returned it to its rightful place. He felt the mark on his forehead. He silently mouthed the letters imprinted there. In his gut there was a feeling that soon he would have closure on this matter. The mayor who had disfigured him was in some way related to the cave. Toadvine didn't know how that was but he felt it to be true, as if it had been divined to him by some curious oracle."
 
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A man comes up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. I reach for my Colt Python until I turn around to see that it's just one of the workers. Or, I think it is until I see his badge says "Overseer Wesly". He's a larger man in his mid-40's who seems to be very shaken by what is happening here. I start to talk to him about the pit and he starts getting very defensive.

"How do you know about that?" Wesley asks.

"We were hired by Mr. Comic to investigate some murders he-"

"Murders?! How do you know about those?"

"As I said, we were hired by Mr. Comic to investigate a series of murders that happened since you all found that pit. Now, tell me, when did the murders start happening?"

Overseer Wesly takes out a cigarette and starts to light it. Whatever answer I'm going to get about the gruesome murders, it will pale in comparison to what this man has gone through.
 
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"Toadvine overheard the overseer. The man looked to be wracked with anxiety. His voice was laced with apprehension and dread. Even from where he stood Toadvine could tell that the man had seen unpleasant things.

Toadvine approached the man. He grabbed the drawing he the junkie had discovered from his duster. It momentarily got tangled on the rubber that lined the inside of the coat. You, Toadvine said. You the overseer? What do you know about this, Toadvine said as he showed the overseer the drawing.

The overseer only stammered nervously. He whimpered nervously about how the youth and Toadvine shouldn't know about this. Toadvine began to get annoyed with the overseer. He grabbed the worker by the lapels and began to shake him violently. If you know something you'd best tell us, Toadvine growled at the terrified man."
 
As Toadvine shakes the flustered Overseer by his lapels, he and Stephan hear a voice from behind them, weaselly and snide.

"Gentlemen? Is there a problem here?"

The voice belongs to a young looking man in a business suit, slightly dusty from the construction occuring on the site. On his lapel is a namebadge reading "Mr. Grisby, Jnr".

"Sir! They say they're here as private investigators! They say Comic asked 'em over 'ere!" stammers Overseer Wesly, justifiably flustered by the rather unusual situation he finds himself in.

Mr. Grisby continues:

http://vocaroo.com/i/s1IAqIuYHhp7

Well, crap. What do you do?
 
"Toadvine grimaced angrily at the proprietor. Listen here, Toadvine hissed at the suit-wearing man. I was supposed to be gettin' a sizable amount of cash for my services. I suggest you step aside and let me do my job. It sounds like somethin' bad is happening here. I reckon you would be remiss if more of your underlings were to end up like the former foreman over there. The proprietor stood firm. He remained surprisingly unphased by Toadvine's words.

Speakin' of which, Toadvine said as he held up the drawing. What do you make of this hoss? Your own loyal subordinate here filed this report."
 
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"Oh dear" stated Mr. Grisby, his face not betraying a smatter of emotion. "Then I'm afraid I have no alternative but to involve the relevant authorities. I suggest you make every effort to vacate the premises before the police arrive. Good day, sirs. Mr. Wesly, please ensure our visitors do not go anywhere dangerous in the intervening period between now and their leaving - However that may be."

Mr. Grisby turns his back to you and begins walking back towards his office, pulling out his phone and dialing three numbers on it before putting it to his ear. Overseer Wesly stands firm at the entrance to the pit, and you two seem to have attracted quite a lot of attention from various construction workers, who are gawping at the scene.
 
At this time Tyce returns from his mission of trashing Jace's place, drawing swastikas on his walls with crayons, and getting a video camera. The Tycemobile pulls up and Tyce stumbles out.
"Yo, dudes, I got the camera. Who was that faggot?"
 
Tyce listens to the quick recount of what happened, and then begins to speak very, very loudly.
"Okay Mr. Grisby, we'll get the hell out of here. I wouldn't want to stick around here with the shit you're keeping hidden. I really do feel sorry for the faggots who you're conning here. Especially the people who need to work near that and don't even know about it."
 
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