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Kane DeWitt's AskMe.nt Account

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After a brief period of heavy static, you see an unshaven young man, his features exaggerated by a bright light in front of his face, sitting at a worn wooden desk. He is wearing a wrinkled button-up shirt, with a tie hanging loosely around the collar. In the background you see a small room, unlit, with dingy wallpaper peeling from the walls and an old mattress supported by an aged steel frame, next to a similarly beaten dresser. Resting on the desktop sits several empty bottles of whisky, and two thoroughly-dusted shot glasses, next to a snub-nosed revolver. He scowls at the screen, and mutters, "I'm Kane. Freelance detective, currently employed by Nanotrasen on the Aurora. Shoot."

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A message pops up, attached to it is a blue medical symbol as an avatar, covering for the lack of a webcam. The username is written as MDSunnyHill. "Mr. DeWitt, for one reason or another, I have always wondered about your attire and appearance. Most noteably, the tunic and disheevled hairstyle, and the lack of a professional appearance."

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The screen seemed to shake, as Kane adjusted the terminal, scowling. "The least you could do is show your face before you berate me. Though, since you seem such a tolerant person, I'll fill you in. Take a good look- Does this look like the home of a billionaire? I'm, as the classy like to put it, 'rather piss-poor'. As for my attire, it's just a shirt and tie. Nothing too odd about that, hmm? And my hair is just naturally a damn mess, combs and brushes are useless. Tunic. What the hell is a tunic? Professional, that may be a fair argument. I may not be the most professional at what I do, but I give a damn, which is more than you can say from some people. There's my piece, and you can take it to heart." Kane's scowl lightens as he finishes, before he blows a kiss to the camera.

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The screen fizzes to life, and a visual similar to Kane's own home appears on the screen. A muscular man with a scraggly beard sits at the other end of the camera, sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He lights a cigarette, and takes a long draw out of it, before blowing smoke over the camera. The username appears as CMDR.Dalton. "Howdy Kane, You ain't been assigned as Detective on station much anymore.." He pauses, taking another draw of the cigarette. "Why's that, DeWitt?"

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A moment of more static passes, the video seemingly frozen, before resuming, as Kane takes a swig from a bottle of cheap whisky. He stares at the camera, a hostile expression forming as he sets the bottle down next to the collection of emptied ones, as the feed abruptly ends, a black screen bearing the text 'No Connection' in a bold red font appears, the audio silent.

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A young woman with the screen name of "Mason.PharmaD" pops up on the screen. She has a reverse bob and wiring coming out of her ears and is sipping from a small china cup with blue and pink flowers painted on them. The scenery around her looks more sterile with bookshelves crammed with books with titles such as "Chemically Speaking: A Dictionary of Quotations" and "Principles of Instrumental Analysis", with papers on a corkboard, and a semi-burnt labcoat hung up on a coat rack. She begins to type, and a small message appears below the picture,

"Hiya, Kane. What got you into becoming a freelance detective, if you do not mind me asking?"

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  • 5 months later...

Suddenly, the screen buzzes to life, and for a brief moment, static can be seen, before dissipating. Before you, sits a rather thin man at a worn wooden desk, his face illuminated and the room around him dark, with only a rough wooden cabinet visible in the background. He offers a timid grin, then speaks to the camera, "Hello. Sorry about the sudden disconnect, had an issue with the damned console. Please, feel free to ask me anything."

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