Detective Joseph Oda

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My Opinion on;

Character in general: 

Before, I didn’t have much of an opinion on Professor Quirrell, but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed learning more about him through you! It’s not easy exploring a character who doesn’t have much lore surrounding them, but you’ve managed to bring him to life -- and flawlessly so! We haven’t started many threads between him and my character(s) yet, but the one we have going with Silas has shed a lot of light on Quirrell’s behaviour and response to a rather challenging situation. I like the fact that Q-Quivering Quirrell actually has some toughness about him, making me want to learn more and see what his true nature is like. He’s interesting enough to keep me invested, that’s for sure. 

How they play them: 

Very enthusiastically! I already mentioned this, but it’s clear how dedicated you are to writing Quirrell, and it’s the most comfortable you’ve been whilst portraying a character. Your responses have been amazing, and you describe what Quirrell is thinking perfectly; I can easily bounce off your writing and contribute back. I’ve only interacted with a younger Quirrell so far, but I can clearly see how he shaped into the professor we know; there’s no doubt that he is Quirrell. You’ve researched into him extremely well, and it shows in your replies to me, and others as well. Also, you don’t just rely on the information that’s been provided about him; you take the facts, add your own spin on them, and produce a wonderful flurry of ideas! What you write about him could easily pass off as canon.

The Mun:

We’ve been writing together for two years now, and it’s been epic -- and continues to be! I enjoy chatting to you, and I always look forward to what thread we come up with next. It’s great discussing plot ideas with you, whilst also talking about games and TV shows! You convinced me to play BioShock through your portrayal of Jack, and I cannot thank you enough. I don’t think I would have actually played TEW, either, if that hadn’t happened because I never considered getting back into gaming back then. I still had a PS1, for goodness sake, ahaha!

I appreciate the fact that you continue to follow me through my many (many) muse changes, and are always up for starting a thread with them. You’re an absolute star, and your constant positivity pushes me to write!

Do I:

RP with them: 

Of course. 

Want to RP with them: 

 As Severus Snape once said, “Always.”

What is my;

Overall Opinion:

Donny could not know how much of an open book he really was, all he did know now was that cops of any level, were not to be trusted as they’ll either brutalize you or ignore everything. They didn’t help and they didn’t care. Which was fine with Donny, he didn’t need their help– he could handle things himself if need be.

“Penzag. Donny Penzag.” He half expects the other to recognize the name but quickly brushes off that hope, he doubts the detective follows such things like boxing. Donny may not be a whiz kid but he could pick up on certain things too, like how the other’s nose had twitched upon entering, probably not used to the smell of a gym– he doubts he often entered an establishment such as this anyway (he looked so, so small in comparison to Donny).

As business commences, Donny does indeed react to the name, knowing the other well enough. “So Lenny’s kicked the bucket?” He knew that already, though. News traveled fast in the gym, especially when one of their own gets beat to death in an alley. “You’re looking for witnesses…here?” There’s a scoff and a visible rolling of the eyes. “You think anyone who was there is gonna talk to you?”

He didn’t intend to put the detective down but…well, that was a long shot. No one wants to be labelled a rat and certainly no one wants some dirty cop flipping the switch and pointing the finger at you just because they can’t find the real killer fast enough. Even just talking to him now was enough to make Donny anxious, wanting to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Okay, yeah, I know Lenny. We all know Lenny. Lenny talked a lotta shit but we all do that too. Could he have really pissed someone off? Yeah, I guess. Was it me in particular? Hell fuckin’ no. So we’re good, right?”

Donny Penzag.

The name wasn’t familiar, but he had a feeling that it was going to keep cropping up throughout this investigation. Joseph scribbled the gentleman’s name in his notebook, making a note of the questions he asked and what...little answers he received. They were already turning vague, confirming only what Joseph already knew -- but he shouldn’t have expected anything different. He was prepared to be given no help at all from the beginning, and Mr. Penzag only proved that theory. When it came to tight-knit communities, the latter being the boxing family, everyone looked after one another; it was like pulling teeth trying to gather information from groups like that. The boxer was right about it being impossible to find somebody willing to talk, especially if they were a witness to the murder. It wasn’t going to be that easy. 

“This isn’t my first case,” Joseph returned, bluntly. He was going to remain polite, of course, but he knew when to stand his ground. The insult hadn’t gone amiss, and the detective tried not to sound irritated. “Unfortunately, I have to start somewhere. I don’t expect to find a witness straight away, but -- like I said before, I’m mostly here to gather information.” His tone remained sincere, but the bite had gone. It would do no good to let an interviewee get under his skin; Sebastian already did that enough back in the office. “I appreciate the fact that you’re speaking to me, Mr. Penzag.” Even if your answers are vague, he wanted to add, but thought better of it. This wasn’t going to be a tit-for-tat scenario.

A light frown appeared on Joseph’s face as the gentleman reacted in a nonchalant way. It definitely wasn’t the kind of reaction he expected from a person who just learned that a man he knew had died. No matter how close, or how little he was to him, there was always some sort of...shocked response, at least. “I understand your reaction, but I’m not accusing anyone, Mr. Penzag.” It was a phrase worthy of being framed in his office; it wasn’t me. I didn’t kill them. I had nothing to do with it.  Standing up straighter, the detective released a light sigh, before continuing with his questioning. This was going to be a long day, and he’d drawn the short straw.

What? What was he talking about? This man seemed high-strung about something and he was talking about life and getting killed.

“Uh – buh, what?” Carlos asked intelligently. But he quickly took on a more alert manner. “No, no, wait, what?”

What the hell did he mean by ‘making you doubt things’? And what place did he mean – the hotel? And Carlos didn’t remember seeing him at all. He was meeting with some technicians and he was asking a nurse for directions… Was he on drugs? Was Carlos on drugs? He didn’t remember taking anything that would cause psychosis. Something was obviously very wrong.

When asked about it Carlos immediately got up to his feet – not just to show this other man that he could stand, but he was taking a defensive stance. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Why did you bring me into a broken building? What – who are you?” Was this man a danger? Something had him rattled, clearly, and Carlos wondered if it was because something was happening or if this man was disturbed in some way.

Joseph had seen this reaction before during interrogations. The more he talked, the angrier the suspect became; denial came first, offence followed, before rage took over their willingness to answer questions. All the detective could do was remain calm and wait whilst the suspect either tired themselves out, or were forcefully restrained. Joseph certainly wasn’t going to do the latter with this gentleman, despite him throwing accusations towards him and adopting a defensive demeanour. He needed a reason to do so, and he couldn’t blame the gentleman for becoming suspicious; he didn’t know who Joseph was, and yet he was being told to move. In retrospect, the detective realised how bold he was to assume that the other man would follow his commands in such an unfamiliar place. He could be anyone. 

“I...didn’t bring you here,” Joseph answered that first, releasing a light sigh. Of course the man would think he brought him here, considering he was the first person he saw upon waking up. It’d be no surprise if he thought that Joseph had kidnapped him. “I wish I had all the answers, but...unfortunately, I’m just as clueless as you are about this place. All I know is that we were entered, unwillingly, into an experiment that was designed to connect individual’s consciousness to create this world. As you can see-” here, another tremor passed, causing ceiling dust to shower over them, “-it’s completely unstable.” Brushing off the white powder, Joseph was anxious to keep on moving. He didn’t want to be in this hotel for a second longer.

“One thing I know, so far, is that the process has the ability to...erode our memories.” He was beginning to forget things -- simple things, such as the exact location of where he grew up. Every time he tried, his mind became blank. “It explains why you couldn’t remember ending up here. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” His tone was sincere, letting the gentleman take the information in. It was difficult to comprehend. Joseph certainly hadn’t accepted it fully yet. Still, the least he could do was let the man know his name. With his hand out-stretched, he offered a light smile, “I’m...Detective Joseph Oda. I work for KCPD. Or, at least -- I did in the real world.”

Giving a nod of the head and a “Thank you!” to Joseph as he held open the door for him, she entered the diner, letting out a small gasp at how much bigger it was on the inside and how comforting it seemed. She could certainly see why Joseph would like this place, the atmosphere in it feeling rather warm and the waitresses that recognized the detective seeming equally so, smiling up at them herself. It took her a moment to pick out a booth once that responsibility was landed on her, surveying the place until picking one against the windows. The chairs were even a bit more comfy than she had imagined they’d be, and the light from outside pouring in gave the whole place a nice touch…

“I love it.” Lillian stated proudly, before that has her blushing a bit in embarrassment before explaining. “I-It’s different from what I expected. When you said we were going to a diner, I instantly thought of black and white checkered walls with bright red booths, waitresses with sass and a northern accent, a jukebox in the corner that never got used, and that kind of rounded, silvery trim on the front, you know?” Looking down at the menu Joseph handed her, at least they had cliche burger choices like she thought they would, but she was happily surprised by the veggie options and the variety of sweets. “N-Not that a place like that wouldn’t have been nice, it’s just that this feels more relax. Homey, almost.”

After a moment more of looking over her options, one of the pair of waitresses that greeted them before came up to ask for their order. Remembering seeing the sign out front with their deals, she was a bit torn on what she wanted, but finally decided on a mushroom swiss burger with a chocolate milkshake. Certainly not the healthiest or cleanest of choices, but she was a growing girl after all! And she still got her sweet tooth satisfied with the thing Joseph had hyped up most, so she supposed everything would balance out. Her stomach growled a bit just thinking about it, blushing a bit more.

“That’s exactly what I expected it to be like, as well,” Joseph agreed, nodding his head. Although his imagination hadn’t been quite as vivid upon discovering this place, he noticed the hesitation from Lillian -- as though she was embarrassed about rambling. Instead of dismissing her theory, he encouraged it; he wasn’t going to shoot down her confidence. She was going to encounter a lot of ignorant people whilst growing up, but Joseph wasn’t going to be one of them. “Almost like something straight out of the 50s, right? Those horrible, bright colours that were an instant headache!” A light laugh came from the detective, grateful that this place had decided to go for more...modest colours. “I can’t believe that they still exist in some places. ”

Politely telling the waitress his order, he watched as she scribbled down their food choices, before thanking her. They were always friendly in here, making even the gloomiest of people instantly cheer up; he often had those kind of days, especially after a difficult case, but a quick visit after work being returning home soon sorted him out. The best thing about this place is their option of taking away, so Joseph could bring the delights home. They often stayed open late, as well, making it convenient for those times where he’d stayed way past his normal shift pattern.

Settling back against the comfy booth, the detective removed his leather gloves and placed them flat on the table. He didn’t want to get any grease on them -- they were his favourite pair, after all. Retrieving a few napkins from its holder, he proceeded to place an open one on his lap before passing another over to Lillian, knowing that she, too, didn’t want to get anything on her clothes. Sebastian often called him a perfectionist during the times they did go out for something to eat, but Joseph always corrected him by stating that he was simply being careful.

They took him

They took him!

As if things hadn’t already been bad enough within this waking hell, whatever those… those things were had taken Ian away to gods only knew where, and it was a ceaseless cesspool that Hal had been attempting to wade through in the effort to get the other man back. There remained a sinking level of sickness - nothing to do with whatever the fuck was even going on in this place, but something akin to mounting dread. Maybe hopelessness, maybe an ever looming despair, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

He had to find him.

It didn’t change the fact that the Cajun was but one man… one man completely and utterly thrown into a situation way over his head. He was no killer, no soldier. Even in self-defense he wasn’t exactly the most thrilled when it came to taking the lives of these… were they even human anymore? Even if they weren’t they had clearly once been.

A tremble shook through his body as he momentarily leaned against the side of the elevator, closing his eyes. There was blood there, left there, a mix of something between what he had fought through and his own - but he didn’t care. He was so exhausted. How long had it even been? Hours? Days? Time seemed to stand still here, seemed to stretch on and on and on… and a person could only run on pure adrenaline for only so long before it took a toll on one’s body. Lacerated fingers could barely even grip on the combat knife he’d found - he didn’t even seem to notice that it had been damaged during the last struggle, the blade itself cracked half-way through and warping. He would have to find something else to use - whatever he could get his hands on.

He couldn’t give up.

There was a stuttered, a jolt of the rusted elevator finally stopping, and Hal lurched himself away from the wall and forward… intending to finally head out. Keep moving, keep moving, keep going until he found him..

Of course there was nothing that could’ve prepared him for the suddenness of the attack. He’d seen the Haunted of course, and from a distance he’d seen other things than those, but nothing had yet moved with quite this speed. Almos tin desperation that damaged blade was lifted upward to try to parry, to awkwardly fend off the downward swing of that axe, even as his adrenaline pumped body jackknifed his weight backwards… slamming him hard against the once more closed door of the elevator.

However then the attack.. stopped? It stopped and the other person - a person,a n actual person! - spoke and there was a sound akin to a deflating tire from Hal as he slid down the down to settle on his ass, back against it and utterly headless of what blood and grime he’d left in his wake. A laugh shook him momentarily, an utterly mirthless sound, before he shook his head. “Y’know gotta say..” Despite how low the drawl was the Cajun was still unable to hide the utter shake of shock that was still within it. “… despite everythin’ I’ve seen someone apologizin’ for nearly loppin’ my fuckin’ head off is the oddest thing t’happen all day.”

Yeah. Definitely shock.

Joseph expected some sort of back-lash, perhaps even a weapon raised towards him, but hearing the gentleman laugh in relief was a different out-come altogether. Truth be told, being on the brink of death and ultimately surviving the experience tended to draw out different reactions from people; Joseph was quite familiar with that type of emotional roller-coaster. This gentleman was probably grateful for avoiding an imminent beheading, simple as, and Joseph shared the feeling. Huffing out a sound of disbelief, the detective made his way back to the over-turned desk and perched himself on the edge, letting the axe dangle by his side. It was a situation he hadn’t faced before, and it was difficult to decide what to do next. Hearing the stranger talk brought the detective back to reality, reminding him that he wasn’t the only one in the room having a short-lived crisis.

“I don’t normally greet people that way, if you can believe that.” Joseph returned, trying to make light of the situation. At least, he wanted to add, not the normal looking ones. However, the words were left unsaid after he reminded himself that he believed the gentleman was Haunted. He was convinced that was the case, but...this place was playing tricks on his mind. For a split second, the glow of white eyes and decomposing, bloodied skin greeted him as he chanced a glance over the desk -- but he was wrong. Within the space of seconds, he intended to kill another man attempting to survive this hellish world, the true appearance of his target revealing itself immediately.

The sensation was horribly familiar. Everything around him warped, objects distorted and people blurred; a fog slowly enveloping his mind until he could no longer think straight, or rationally. Once he came back to himself, he would feel sluggish and disorientated, memories failing to bring up a reminder of the events. During that moment, as he raised the axe, Joseph had forgotten where he was. All he was focused on was destroying the Haunted, but the result never came. Instead, he was left with a feeling of dread -- wondering why he was so convinced of what he was seeing. Insistent, almost, that it wasn’t a hallucination.

Staring at the gentleman, however, Joseph knew that he was real. That much he was sure of. 

“Regardless, it’s...great to see another person here,” the detective continued, grateful for the chance to speak with the living. Even simply being in the presence of somebody else was enough to make Joseph happy. Funny, back home, he preferred the peace - to be left alone - but he longed for the company of another soul in here. Desperate, even. The more he was left alone, the quicker his grip on reality slipped away, knowing that there was nobody there to keep him grounded. Nobody to tell him that things weren’t real, especially. “I’m starting to get fed up of seeing the same...grotesque faces every where I go.” But they were unavoidable, and Joseph knew that. He was positive that, if he ever escaped from this place, those faces would haunt his dreams for years to come.

Adjusting his somewhat skewed glasses, Joseph managed to fully assess the gentleman, taking in his over-all appearance; he was sure that he didn’t look particularly smart, himself. His work uniform was ruined beyond repair; white, pristine shirt torn and marked, tie devoid of its bright colour, whilst his waistcoat and trousers were soaked with goodness-knows-what. No amount of scrubbing was going to get that out. Nevertheless, everyone had their own story, and Joseph wondered what kind of Hell this man had gone through. What he wondered most of all, however, was whether he was on his own. He had Sebastian, after all...somewhere.

Yellowed pupils scanned the numerous bed screens, searching -- waiting for one, tiny mistake. She was bound to slip up sooner or later, and when she did, he’d be ready. His gloved hands clenched into tight fists before unfurling, anxious to finally wrap them around her throat, watching as the light left her eyes with every press of his fingers; she deserved nothing less. What mercy could he give her when she made him this way? It was all Kidman’s fault, dragging him into this nightmare and forcing him to become this...this monster. All he could feel was the pure rage he felt for her, for this god-forsaken place, crawling up from the pit of his stomach until it over-whelmed him -- fogging up his mind and blocking out the remainder of his conscience.

“..H-ah!” A laugh tore from the detective as he sent another screen skittering across the floor, bringing them down one by one with an almighty crash. “Kidman! Come here!” Another screen was taken down with a swift kick, breaking the metal rungs that held up the material up. He’ll tear this place apart, if needs be. The process of elimination continued until only a few screens remained, the rest lying broken around him in a path of destruction; her body would soon join the twisted metal. “There’s nowhere left to hide -- show yourself!” The taunting words were growled, settling low in his throat. 

Pausing, the detective remained where he was for a moment, giving her the option of appearing. It was better to get this over and done with quickly, though he certainly had all the time in the world. He could do this all day. Enough was enough; he’d given her enough time already.  Another mocking laugh came from the detective as he slowly made his way towards the screens, anticipation buzzing under his skin and forcing him to scratch at the surface. But that was only temporary. Seeing her lifeless body would finally cure the constant pain he felt.