------------------------------------------------------------------------- First Entry: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/875387142/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ahhhh.... I really wanted to add more art, but I've had so much homework that I was only able to get this drawing and a short story done. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- "It just doesn't make sense!" Mauser exclaimed, pacing back and forth. "What doesn't make sense?" Catchells asked from his armchair, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. "The evidence," Mauser replied, "seems to be leading me in so many different directions. How am I supposed to figure out who killed Silas Swann if I can't even figure out what killed Silas Swann? Neither the claw marks around his neck nor the stab wound in his abdomen were deep enough to kill him, meaning that neither of my two prime suspects could possibly be guilty. Three people attempted to take Swann's life the day he died; I've found two of them so far, but the one that succeeded still alludes me." Catchells looked up from his newspaper. "Why can't you just book those two miscreants and call it a day? I'm paying you to clear my name, not to go on a wild goose chase looking for whoever poisoned Swann. You've found your culprits, so why not have them arrested right now?" Mauser froze in place. "How did you know that Swann was poisoned?" he whispered. "I just assumed," Catchells replied with a cool grin on his face, "that since there were no other wounds on his body, the only thing that could have killed him was poison." Mauser's nose twitched. "Y-You killed Swann, didn't you? He stained your name and you wanted him to pay for it. It all makes sense! You were the one who destroyed the autopsy report! You were the one who sent me those 'anonymous' tips about Foxney! I've spent weeks looking for Swann's killer just to find that he was standing right next to me this whole time!" An ominous laugh escaped Catchells throat as he stood up. "Well done, little mouse; you've cracked the case. It was meant to look like an accident, a simple heart attack, but those incompetent fools that Eula and Foxney sent had to ruin everything." Catchells reached into his suit jacket, revealing a revolver. He turned it in his hands a few times, then pointed the barrel towards Mouser's head. "It's your choice, you little rat. Either you pin the blame on one of the other culprits, or you end up in the morgue like poor old Swann. Which will it be? Which will it be?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Design: Art: Story: -------------------------------------------------------------------------
