The Sixth Suspect

by **krzy** Sat Apr 09, 2022 5:58 pm

Photos of John Lipnick are plastered all over a wall in a nondescript room whose sole purpose seems to be to house these images. Slightly off to the side on a modest desk rests a laptop playing a replay of the night Kwame Bullet was devoured. Robert Cross lifts a steel chair into the air, eyes as empty as his soul is cold--and the video is paused just before the moment of impact.

And somehow the sounds still reverberates in the room. Steel digging into flesh, cutting against bones. Bullet’s screams of agony. Lipnick’s unrelenting barks as he contorts chaos into a tenuous eloquence.

Tailcoat Val’s finger lingers on the spacebar, eyes scanning the scene for details, however minute, that would only be of use to someone like her. That finger is now lazily dragging along the photos on the wall, each highlighting watershed moments in Lipnick’s career, from his corruption of Ace Reeves to his World Championship victory.

Val stops in front of the largest photo in the room and traces her finger across Lipnick’s chest.

Trust Me

TAILCOAT VAL:
Trust…

She takes a step back, her eye dancing as she takes no longer than a split-second to look at each picture.

TAILCOAT VAL:
What a fascinating creature that has sprouted while my back was turned.

Again her gaze falls on Lipnick winning the world championship.

TAILCOAT VAL:
My, my…and you’ve grown so fast.

There’s a twinkle of deviance in her eye.

TAILCOAT VAL:
I didn’t invite you here because I want to gift you the time needed to make a crucial decision: Will you continue to grow--or will you and everything you built be razed to the ground?

Val turns around revealing that the wall behind her only has eight pictures, and only one of those are of Lipnick. Lipnick’s picture has an “x” crossed over it, along with five others: Jason Spade, Rami Young, Hunter Quinn, Joseph Santos and Joy Justice.

TAILCOAT VAL:
One by one I’ve eliminated those who I am absolutely certain did not attack me--that includes you.

She motions to the two pictures that remain:

Chris Diamond.

Pierre Thompson.

TAILCOAT VAL:
I didn’t invite you here because I wanted to extend a courtesy; I want you to determine whether you consider Chris Diamond expendable.

You have until Revamp.

Whichever man was responsible will not leave the show of their own volition, and this saga will be put to rest once and for all.

She grins wickedly while she walks over to the laptop.

TAILCOAT VAL:
I trust you’ll choose self-perseverance. It would be the ideal option for me, as I do not wish to start a war with you…

She skips the video of the Kwame beatdown and a new one starts playing.

TAILCOAT VAL:
…I’ve grown tired of cutting down men who don’t know their place.

As Val walks off screen, the camera focuses on the clip. It’s of that fateful night when Val wielded a steel chair of her own, lifted it high over Bob Luger’s throat, then--