A portfolio of free textures, 3d models, Jedi Knight levels, and other miscellaneous things.     A Diamond In The Rough By: Adam Sliger 4/25/2000 I, Steven Little, "7 year-old genius" awoke Friday morning at 4:30am due to a light tapping at my window. I knew the reason... Silently I geared up, grabbing my clothes, my laser pointer, and my Jr. Detective kit, and headed toward my window. I quietly lifted the blinds and slid open the window. My "partner" Jim Banks, member of the FBI awaited me eagerly at my second story window. To this day, I don't know how he gets up there. I turned to grab a rope from under my bed, and upon glancing out the window once more... Jim was gone. This was quite normal. I tied the rope to the bed post, and held the other end. I hopped out of the window, and flew away from the house. My foot touched briefly on the wall as I repelled myself away, landing gently on the lush green grass just barely illuminated by the moonlight. I threw the rope upwards and yanked down on it sharply. The end of the rope was shot out of my window, falling down next to me on the lawn. I snatched the rope up from the dew covered grass and began to coil it around my hand and elbow, like my father had taught me. I slung the rope over my arm, and glanced up at my window, which by the way, was no longer open. Soft footsteps arose from behind me... I spun around quickly and prepared to defend myself to the best of my abilities. After all, I did have a rope, and my laser pointer... My eyes shot upward at lighting speed as I saw the mans legs, then I saw who it was... Jim stood there staring at me, bewildered... I suppose I did look a little odd. "Steven," Jim whispered, "We've been put on a case! Rather, I've been put on a case and I'd like your help." "Ok Jim," I replied, "What is it?" "There's been a crime..." he said. "Well, I kinda figured that," I snapped. "A repetitive crime," he replied, "the Woodrow family has been robbed repeatedly, and each time, an item or two has been removed from their house, and after each crime, a note was left that had been encoded into some strange lettering. "Interesting," I muttered "Very," Jim responded, obviously listening to my words very carefully, "And the FBI has put me on the case to capture this unknown criminal, and to find out how he's getting into the house." "Ok," I said, "The first step would be view the scenes, and sketch them... Next comes decoding the notes that were left behind." "I agree," Jim confirmed, eager to get going, and to solve this mystery. "Let's go get breakfast at the new 24 hour diner, and then talk some more. I dunno about you, but I'm starved." "Good thinking," Jim replied. The two of us walked quickly to his awaiting Hum-Vee and opened the doors in unison. We hopped in, and shut the doors behind us. Jim turned the key, and stuck it in reverse. He sped the Hummer right out of my driveway, slammed it into drive, and took off down the road. After about five minutes, Jim made a right turn, into the parking lot of Tracy's diner. Still moving at a high rate of speed, we skidded through the lot, stopping inches from another car parked in the lot. Jim smiled. "You like this new truck, don't ya?" I questioned. He nodded in reply. We both pulled the handles, releasing the doors. I stepped out into a cold gust of wind. I slammed the door shut, hoping that the wind would not catch it. The both of us, taking long strides... (For me that is,) walked casually into the restaurant. We sat down in a fancy, stylish, red booth and waited for our server to come. "So, about this case," I started, "do you have some more information on it?" "Not a lot," Jim replied, "Seeing as neither of us has been to the house yet. I wanted to pick you up first, since you were on the way..." "Oh, all right," I remarked, slightly disappointed. Our waitress then arrived, explaining that her name was Jennifer Clark. She had long blonde hair, and blue eyes. Jim glanced up and smiled, as he ordered his usual breakfast. I on the other hand tried something new... An egg sandwich.. I'd heard that they are really good. Over the meal, Jim informed me that a few more clues had been left at the scene, though he had no idea what yet. After about half of an hour, Jim wrote out a check, leaving it on the table. I glanced at it. He had left her a ten dollar tip! Boy, I guess Jim really liked her... Oh well, I didn't want to say anything about it. We both exited the diner, following our footsteps that we took on the way in. We both got into Jim's vehicle and departed for the crime scene. We arrived there right at sunrise... The little cabin-style house set atop a great hill. The sun was rising over their house, spreading it's warmth and reddish-yellow light on everything within it's reach. Jim stopped his Hummer on the gravel driveway, sliding slightly upward the curved surface... The door of the house opened, and out ran a woman, clearly in her early thirties. She ran down the sloped driveway, followed closely by whom I assume was her husband. Jim and I stepped out of the Hum-Vee, and greeted these people. "We've been expecting you!" the woman said excitedly, while the man put on an honest grin. "My name's Heather Woodrow, and this is my husband Bill." She gestured toward the man to her right. Jim presented them with his badge and ID. "Come on in and have a look," Bill said, "The police have taped off the scenes already.' We began to follow the couple up their driveway, and toward their little house. We all arrived at the door at precisely the same time, and Bill opened it. Jim and I stepped inside. It smelled wonderful. There was the aroma of warm cookies baking, and it just felt so cozy... I felt great. As Bill led us to the kitchen, the smell grew stronger, and my nose, on it's own, took a big whiff of the air around it. Bill left us in the kitchen, with only this to say, "We'll leave you to investigate." Heather followed her husband, and rounded the corner into the other room. "Wasn't there more than one crime?" Jim asked, slightly louder than normal. "Yes," Heather called back, "We'll show you those when you're done in there. Give us a shout when you are ready. The television set, and the silverware were stolen from there..." "Ok," I replied, taking the words right out of Jim's mouth. I surveyed the scene. There was nothing out of the ordinary. On the left, a broken window. I panned to the right, I noticed a drawer missing in the under table cabinets, the note, and finally a small rotating TV stand, on which a TV antennae sat. "There's been a crime every night for three nights now," Jim informed me. I wrote that down, and proceeded to sketch a picture of the crime scene on my little notepad. I finished the sketch, and glanced back at the scene. I looked once more at the picture I had drawn, satisfied. "Let's go to the next scene," I said, "We can come back to this one..." "Ok," Jim agreed, calling for Bill. "Ready for the second scene, I assume," Bill said. "Yeah," Jim and I replied at the same instant. Bill led us out of the kitchen, down a short hallway, and into a small room. "This is where the computer was.... We'd won it in a contest. It was worth over three-thousand dollars. It was top of the line," Bill informed us. "Geeze," Jim said, "That must've been one heck of a computer." "Yeah, it was great," Bill said, clearly saddened by this crime, as well as the first. I looked around the room, and once again saw a broken window. I looked to my left, and noticed an indentation in the carpet under the desk... Obviously where the computer once stood. I began to work on my sketch for this scene, as Bill admired my artistic abilities. I spotted the second note, which was laying upon the desk, and I left it in place. I added the finishing touches to my sketch, and closed my notepad. "Finished?" Bill asked. "I suppose," I said, and Jim nodded. Bill led us to a door, several paces down the hallway. He opened it, and we followed him to the basement. The stairs creaked beneath our feet, and Bill flipped on the light. There were cobwebs and cracks on the walls, and dust covering everything. "We never have believed in banks," Bill explained, "So we kept our life savings of eight-hundred-thousand dollars down here in a safe. The safe weighed slightly under four-hundred pounds." "Is it gone?" I asked. "Yes!" Bill exclaimed. "Whoa," Jim said, astounded by this feat. Jim and I surveyed the final scene. There was an empty place where the large safe once sat. The floor where it was lay bare, except for a few scratch marks pointing only to another crate... "Hmm..." I thought out loud, "That's strange." I noticed quite a bit of dirt in one dark, enclosed corner, and disregarded it. All around the basement were stacks of boxes and mismatched crates. I looked up, and saw once again, a broken window. Bill exited the basement, and Jim looked at me. "Well," Jim suggested, "It looks as if the criminal has gotten in through the window to commit each and every crime... That seems simple enough." "That's possible," I replied, "Or it could be a red herring, meant to lead us off course." "What criminal has the brains to think up that kind of a plot?" Jim asked me. The answer came from both of our mouths at the same time. "SAFFIRE BLACK." Suddenly everything became still, quiet, and eerie... The lights flickered and went out. No one spoke. The darkness of the basement seemed to collapse upon us, and the heavy blanket began asphyxiating us. Everything was lost... It seemed like hours of suffering, of suffocating in the sea of darkness. And then Jim spoke. "Umm.... " He stuttered, "Let's get out of this basement... FAST!" He grabbed the note and we bolted up the stairs. We stopped in the computer room, snagging the 2nd note. We both slowed down, breathing heavily from the scare in the basement. Jim and I stepped into the kitchen, and picked up the 1st note. "Now that we have all three, let's decode them," I suggested. We sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the first note. This is how it read: N X I E T I L E O R O P T R E T M I W L B Y U C M U E Jim and I stared blankly at the napkin full of jumbled letters. They seemed meaningless. We sat there debating for nearly an hour, and then it came to me. "READ THE NOTE IN A ZIG-ZAG LINE!" i exclaimed. "What?" Jim asked, confused. "Here, let me show you." I picked up the note and said," 'Next time it will be your computer.' " "That's it!" Jim yelled. "Let's get the others done." " ' Next time it will be your money,' " the second note read. " ' Next time it will be your lives," Jim read. "Oh my God!! The Woodrows are going ot be murdered!" Jim and I ran to warn the Woodrows. We agreed to stay up all night, and hide in their closet. We would catch the murderer when he busted the bedroom window. And then it was time... Jim and I sat scrunched in the Woodrow's closet, waiting, waiting, waiting.... Then, all of a sudden, Heather shot up in bed, and climbed out from under the covers. "Where are you going," Jim whispered to her. "To get a drink of water," she replied hoarsely. We sat silent, listening. After about three minutes, we heard footsteps downstairs.... RUNNING. Then a blood curdling scream pierced the thin, night air, chilling our bones. The cry rang out through the house, echoing down each hallway, bouncing around in each room. Jim and I leaped up, running as fast as possible. We bounded down the stairs, taking them in sets of three or four. We hit the linoleum and slid, sock-footed right into Heather. She was lying on the floor, with a large kitchen knife embedded in her skull. Blood was pouring from the gash in her head, and soaking into her clothing. I felt sick... We kneeled beside her, checking her pulse. She was dead... "I can't believe we failed..." Jim said, staring at the woman on the floor. I turned away. Then, thunderous footsteps racing down the stairs. Jim and I spun around, and were on our feet in no time. "NOOOO!" We heard Bill yell... We stayed with him, Comforting him for hours. Then the morning came. I awoke that morning sore, with a crick in my neck. Jim lay beside me. I glanced at my watch. We had slept for two hours. I looked up, and saw Bill in bed. We were on the carpet in his room. I woke Jim, and we went downstairs. We passed the lifeless body of Heather, and proceeded to the basement. We looked around. I walked along the scrapes on the floor... And noticed something. I jumped up into the air, and landed hard on my heels. "The floor!" I exclaimed, "It's hollow! Help me move this crate!" "All right," Jim replied, anxious to solve this crime once and for all. We both moved the crate away from the wall, about five feet. Just as I suspected. A large jagged hole was under the crate... It was a tunnel. "My goodness," jim said. We both ran upstairs and awoke Bill. We told him what we discovered, and we both went home and slept. After changing, Jim picked me up again. It was now 8:00pm. We silently drove to the scene of the crime, not looking forward to the long wait that lie ahead. When we arrived, we walked into the Woodrow's house. Jim and I greeted Bill, and proceeded to the basement. We had agreed to stay in the basement and catch the criminal, now that we knew where he was entering from. Jim and I hid, and waited. We waited and waited. Then I dozed off. I dreamt that I was a normal child. I had friends. I played, I laughed, I enjoyed life. I loved it... And then it happened. light scraping sound shook me from my fantasy, and Jim and I both looked toward the large crate. It inched it's way across the floor. When it was about five feet from the wall of the basement, a young woman emerged from the hole. She was beautiful... She had long flowing blonde hair, and soft blue eyes. The moonlight from the broken window made her all the more attractive. "That's Jennifer from the diner!" Jim whispered. We'd never expected to see her here. Only Saffire Black. Despite her looks, we had to do what we were there for. Arrest her! We both leaped from behind a medium sized crate and Jim grabbed Jennifer, smiling. She let out a gasp as my handcuffs locked around her wrist. I read the bead necklace that hung around her neck. "Saffire" it said. "Hello Saffire," I said. Jim gave me an odd look, and then finished my statement. "Your criminal life is over," Jim finished. "No, It's not" Saffire replied in a soft, soothing voice... The next day, Jim asked me, "What were all those clues about? Or do you still not know?" "Well," I responded smiling, "The notes were dead give-aways, and the broken windows were red herrings, as I suggested. The scrape marks from the safe led to that large crate in the basement, so I wanted to investigate it." "So, why did you have the idea that the floor could've been tunneled?" Jim asked. "There was a pile of dirt in the corner of the basement, near that large crate, so I figured the criminal got in through a hole, or a VERY dirty trail." I laughed. Jim smiled. "You're good," he said. THE END.