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The Hunt
Topic Started: Aug 16 2014, 05:06 PM (215 Views)
Demoness
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Deshi MathĂșna quietly handed his passport to the agent and patiently but tiredly answered any questions the agent had. He had nothing to declare Deshi showed him his tourist visa, his passport, and for good measure, his credentials as a Demonessian policeman.

Deshi was of average height and build, though he was often underestimated by perpetrators because his muscular build remained slight no matter how much he worked out. In recent months, however, he'd begun to lose weight as worry began to eat away at his appetite. The blond policeman came to Pelhafor for one reason, to find his girlfriend Minka Zakhari, who disappeared there several months ago while on vacation. He didn't know why she'd gone - sometimes despite how long they'd known each other she acted like she didn't quite trust him and he'd learned to let it go - but she was studying to be a lawyer and he had at first assumed it was to interview for some sort of internship. Unfortunately, the day of her arrival back in Demoness had come and gone and he'd received no sign from her. He inquired with the governments involved, both his and Pelhafor, but they had been relatively unhelpful and he had a feeling he wouldn't receive the answers he sought. Instead, he decided to take a leave of absence and investigate for himself.

He looked down at the paper in his hand. He'd managed to get a hold of the hotel in which she'd registered, but he couldn't get the desk clerk to even confirm if she'd checked in. It was a thin lead, but it was all he had and he headed toward the address.

OOC: I purposely left the city unknown to facilitate your description. Feel free to put Deshi in whatever city works and describe it.

EDIT: Took out references to his firearm.
Edited by Demoness, Aug 18 2014, 09:33 PM.
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Demoness
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"No problem," Deshi replied. "I won't be in your way, ne?" He sighed and then rephrased his question; Morai English was for the most part English save for a few odd sentence structures. "Will I be in your way?" He had crossed the threshold, but he remained within a foot of it with his case in his hand. He was a bit tired and had hoped to get some rest before starting his investigation in earnest.

"Ano, actually..." He reached into his jacket pocket again and retrieved Minka's picture. "Have you seen this woman recently?"
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Pelhafor
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"No, I was just leaving," replied the housekeeper curtly to his first question. She took a gentle first step towards the door but stopped with the man's other inquiry. She took a good look at the girl for while, then looked into Deshi's eyes, "Sorry, no. Excuse me." With that, she bowed her head slightly and eased her way through the door, walking down the hallway and down the stairway.

A spare key to the room had been left on the coffee table, alongside a basket of sugar packs seemingly poured out on the top of the table. A restaurant menu and a map were visible under the coffeemaker. Save the distant honking of the streets outside and TV sounds from next door, the room was eerily quiet. Noon sunlight shone through the shades, gently illuminating the bedsheets. A fancy-looking clock with Roman numerals stuck to the light-brown colored wall above the TV, its ticking apparent in the silence.
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Demoness
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Deshi sighed heavily and shut the door behind the housekeeper. He decided the first thing he'd do was take a short nap and then try to take to the streets later in the evening. He dead bolted the door out of paranoia, tossed his bag on the foot of the bed, and collapsed on top of the sheets. He slept fitfully for a half hour before rising and thoroughly examining the room. He didn't expect to find much, but there was always hope. He checked everywhere he thought a maid might miss, such as under the bed and mattress, in the draws, or the top shelves. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for.
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Pelhafor
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Deshi found coins and restaurant cards of little significance. Some of the coins were Demonessian, which more or less confirmed that, at the very least, someone carry Demonessian money had stayed her before. The cards were to restaurants of all sorts, ranging from regional Pelhaforan cuisines to those of Demonessian or Benuhalese taste.

In room 407, across from Deshi's room, a bespectacled Pelhaforan man in a casual open suit, white shirt, and formal trousers sat on his bed, a laptop and several black boxy devices beside him with wires and antennas sticking out of some of them. Despite this, he sighed and seemed to have little to do. He turned on the television -- there was an option to order movies, but he wasn't really into paying thirty dollars for films he'd never be interested in anyway. He pressed the rubber direction controls and pressed 'OK' -- part of worldwide parlance, even outside of English -- and was greeted with a local Karishin channel in the traditional Karishin regional dialect/language, which was retreating south under the influence of business-level Central Pelhaforan and English. Nonetheless, there was still a great many locals who wanted to hear their news in their own language, and so the provincial government gave them one. All news was part of the government somehow; the most private of major TV channels had at least some government oversight to ensure it was 'safe' for citizens.

This featured mostly local news stories, disturbing news of recent murders or robberies mixed in with more cheerful stories of thriving businesses or daily heroes. There were subtitles in Central Pelhaforan on the bottom of the screen, so that even a Tsarya-born Pelhaforan could understand. Many local news channels across the country, although funded by the government, had varying degrees of independence, so they had become key tools in dethroning corrupt regional officials or companies doing nefarious deeds. These sorts of programming, in a sense, served as Pelhaforan citizens' only major outlet for democracy.

The next channel was regional Karishin theater, with painted faces and high-pitched singing combined with dramatic poses and movements characteristic of Pelhaforan folk opera variants. Toitu was never much of a theater guy, so he flipped to the next channel, which was in Central Pelhaforan with English subtitles underneath. Probably meant for the Pelhaforan diaspora. It was showing some cheesy spy show that had been hitting the market for the past few months... hitting the market repeatedly over the head with a hammer of unoriginality. After seeing foreign films, many Pelhaforan TV shows didn't seem so good anymore. Next few presses brought foreign-language news programs, in English, Morai, or whatever. He finally reached a Central Pelhaforan news channel, detailing some health crises in Sudika, but he wasn't in the mood for depressing world events and chose to change the channel. The next one was a cartoon for kids... a talking mouse, a talking cow... they gotta find some friend's toy or something... teaching the value of friendship... aw hell, why not. Toitu watched the chibi figures as he lit up a smoke.
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Demoness
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Deshi surveyed the searched room and sighed with disappointment; he hadn't really expected to find anything of significance. The coins had given him hope, but since there had been Demonessians on the plane it was only a small hope fed by desperation. Clues didn't just appear because a person wanted them badly; that only happened in the movies and television and this was certainly different. He didn't know what had happened to Minka. She could be dead in a ditch somewhere or had been sold into slavery. Deshi didn't usually keep up on world events, but he had studied up on Pelhafor before heading here and he didn't think they had a sex trade. However, that didn't mean one didn't exist in the black market. Or Minka just wanted to disappear.

He looked at the flyer in his hand. It was for some Pelhaforan restaurant. His stomach was growling and he'd lost track of the last time he'd eaten between long flights and time zones. Perhaps it was dinner time. After all, he'd taken a nap. He decided he would try the restaurant, talk to the locals, and get a feel for the country. He double-checked his wallet to assure himself it was still in his pocket and shoved cash in various pockets so that he wouldn't lose too much currency if he was pick pocketed. He rifled through his bag, removing anything valuable and either putting it on his person if it were small enough or under the mattress if it wasn't. He left the bag and most of his clothes on the bed, locked the door, and headed out. He was interested to try true Pelhaforan cuisine anyway, not that knockoff stuff they sold in Demoness.
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Pelhafor
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Right outside the hotel was a commercial street not too far from the downtown business district of Karishin, an avenue stuffed with large banks and big-name, fancy restaurants that seemed to especially cater to wealthy foreigners. All the placards were decorated in gold and neon lights, advertising brilliantly in colossal, flashing Pelhaforan and English letters. As Deshi stepped out of the hotel lobby and looked up at the twilight sky, the entire length of the avenue suddenly lit up, for it was 6 PM and that was when dinner began to be served. A babel of languages could be heard as wealthy Pelhaforans in exotic-looking robes and rich foreigners wandered and laughed, frequenting and exiting those multi-storied restaurants. Deshi found himself walking past these merry folk, turning around the corner to a more quieter street. Here, the Demonessian saw more usual pedestrians -- middle-class folk in simple shirts and trousers. It was still summer, so hardly anybody wore jackets. Some Pelhaforan women wore dresses or veils, but like their male companions, they dressed to fit the warm summer night air.

After a few minutes, Deshi found himself in front of a two-story restaurant. Like the others, it was busy and brimming with customers and waiters rushing to take orders. The adornment on the facade was simple; the English letters under the Pelhaforan calligraphy read "KARISIN IMPERIAL NOODLES."
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Demoness
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Deshi found himself studying the pedestrians out of habit, trying to discern if any of them were planning to commit a crime. Pickpockets were the worst and generally didn't give any hint of their intentions. Most troublemakers whether they be thieves or fight starters telegraphed their intentions through their facial expressions or body movement. He watched the crowd for a little bit before realizing that it was pointless; he had no authority here and while he had a purpose, he also could enjoy his time while he had the chance. He relaxed and watched the passersby with curiosity before heading into the noodle shop.

The aroma of the food was overwhelming as he entered and he hadn't realized until just then how hungry he'd been. His stomach grumbled louder as he looked through the lobby. If there was a bar, he sat down immediately and started looking at the menu.
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Pelhafor
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A college-age waiter walked over and handed him a menu. Save for the name of the restaurant, the menu was entirely in Pelhaforan script, its curvy letters dancing across the page below pictures of different meals. Pelhaforan actually featured two sets of letters, classical and demotic, which functioned similar to uppercase and lowercase. The name of the restaurant was in the rigid, straight classical letters, whereas everything else was written in the more regular demotic.

"No, you idiot. Does he look like a Pelhaforan to you?" a nearby older waiter said as he passed by the younger man. Quickly the latter corrected his mistake and replaced the menu he gave Deshi with a translated version of the menu in English.

The main features were noodles of all sorts, fried noodles, noodle soups, and noodles of different thicknesses. Along with noodles, different meats could be served, such as beef, pork, lamb, crab, or fish. A few vegetarian choices were available. Some rice dishes were also on the menu, but as this was a specialty noodle shop, Deshi saw few of his fellow patrons eating rice dishes. Drinks were typical -- a choice of soda or alcohol. Dessert included sundaes, ice cream, and more traditional sesame or peanut butter pudding.
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Demoness
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Deshi looked over the menu and started drooling the more he read. After some difficulty deciding just what it was he wanted to eat, he placed an order for some fried noodles and a soda and handed back the menu to the waiter. He looked to his left and right for someone who looked like they might want to talk.
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Pelhafor
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The restaurant began filling up as the minutes passed and the sky slowly darkened. A bespectacled Pelhaforan man in a loose, casual suit and trousers entered the restaurant. He caught sight of the blond man he'd recognized from before in a corner of the place. As all tables were occupied or reserved, the waiters directed him to the same table where Deshi happened to be sitting. "I hope you don't mind my intrusion," he spoke to him in English, giving a courteous smile typical of Pelhaforans. "There doesn't seem to be any seats, so they have placed me here."
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