Recherche des images associées au mot-clé tbpw

Bon, pour des raisons diverses (#ManqueDeTempsMDR), ça va devenir compliqué de faire autant de dessins que je ne l'aurais souhaité -- en tout cas, ça va être compliqué de les intégrer directement à la fic. Du coup, pour le chapitre 4 on a encore quelques illustrations comme ça, mais après pour la suite... Disons que les dessins seront plus des concept arts et des scènes comme ça plus qu'autre chose. Désolée :v

Du coup, pour lire les chapitres, c'est aussi disponible sous forme de PDF sur Google Docs ! Voici donc le chapitre 004 et le chapitre 005[/b] ici !

Et voici donc quelques des illustrations du chapitre 4 tiens, parce que quand même faudrait bien que j'en poste quelques ._.

Ono-C5.4α
Mōri Agency, Tōkyō (Japan)
March 2^nd, 1997 — 11:53 AM
Intersection Beika 2-Chome.

He was now certain of it. There was no other possibility, it had to be there.
The television kept displaying a map of the Beika district of Tōkyō. Red dots were running along the streets in what appeared at first to be somewhat random movements, but mere seconds of observation were all that was needed for him to realize that this apparent unpredictability was in fact hiding a perfectly calculated logic.

These things, whatever they were, had killed around a dozen unidentified victims according to the police and army. They seemed bestial and their behavior appeared to be based on instinct at first, but what he could see here… showed that somehow, there actually was some sense of coordination between their movements. An actual, well-thought, strategy.


Well, as well-thought as it was, it was no match for him: these creatures were all coming from the same point, and according to their global movements, all he had to do in order to find their common origin was to follow their itineraries in the reverse direction, until he managed to connect the dots— quite literally. These hundreds of red dots were getting away the ones from the others… and getting away from this one single place, this intersection between Avenue 4-Chome and the boulevard leading to the Beika Bridge.

Intersection Beika 2-Chome.


Another snore pulled him out of his thoughts; annoyed by such sudden and useless distraction, the child glared at a man in his early forties who was lying asleep on his desk. Not shaved, messy black hair, badly arranged shirt collar, using his crossed arms as a makeshift pillow, surrounded by a small pile of empty beer cans…
Sighing, the young boy turned his blasé eyes back towards the screen and pouted, mumbling to himself that he really was hopeless.


He readjusted a pair of glasses that seemed a little too big for his face, frowned and leaned slightly forward, as his right elbow rested on his knee so that he could put his head between his pensive fingers. Some black hair fell in front of his azure eyes, but he paid no attention to it, as he was already completely absorbed in his thoughts regarding the television’s map and the message an anonymous voice kept repeating again and again:

“We do not know yet what these creatures are, but the authorities will do everything they can to stop them. For the time being, it is strictly forbidden to all civilians in Tōkyō to get out from their homes until further notice. We have at our disposal a map of the town which displays these creatures’ positions and movements at all times. It is recommended to stay alert and seal all your exits.”


There was more than just one reason to find this broadcast suspicious. He was firstly curious to know how they would be able to trace so many signals of these creatures so easily; he was certain it couldn’t be that simple. He was also much more curious about why the authorities would bother to display so openly such map; if all citizens were supposed to remain inside their houses, why would they show such information? If anything, all it could do was tempt some people’s curiosity and put them in danger.


And last but not least, there was still the mystery of what these creatures were. His rational mind could hardly accept their mere existence. This was pure madness.
These creatures were extremely aggressive, especially towards human beings. All that could be known about them was that their modus operandi was to chase some humans, and that for some reason, as soon as there would be some physical contact between them— both would be merely disintegrated. Or fall to ashes, apparently, it was hard to tell. It wasn’t like he had been able to witness anything from his current position.
But this simply wasn’t possible. Creatures like these could not exist. Massive murders like these could not exist. You don’t turn people into coal in a split second. Old folklore deities like Yōkai don’t exist. Magic does not exist.


Whatever means the culprit was using, there just had to be a rational explanation. And there had to be a rational motive, too.


Anyway, reasoning like this wouldn’t lead him anywhere. So where was he? Right, Intersection Beika 2-Chome. Even though he wasn’t suicidal enough to consider getting out and investigating right now on the field, he had to admit that it was the only way he had to collect any further hints. The forensics sure wouldn’t share their results with civilians like him, let alone with an apparent six-year-old boy who just happened to look slightly smarter than the average.


He still felt hesitant about going out under such conditions, but if he used his turbo engine skateboard, the intersection would be hardly five minutes away from his current location.
Still, he had no idea which was faster between the things and his skateboard, and he wasn’t willing to find out on the field.


And yet…

Turn right upon leaving the Mōri Agency.
Go straight until the first intersection.
Turn right again and keep going straight until you reach Beika Park.
Cross the avenue, then go through a little net of alleys eventually leading to the end of Avenue 4-Chome.
Turn right one last time and go through Avenue 4-Chome until the intersection, hardly a dozen meters further.

This one itinerary was almost completely spared by the red dots. It had been since the very beginning. It was so obvious. Apart from the first part of the route, not the slightest creature had ever been on any of these portions of the town; and even there, if you were just smart enough, it was easy to calculate a way to effectively avoid them.
Was it a coincidence? That was doubtful. Apart from these few obstacles…

… Wait a minute.

He froze.

No.
It couldn’t be.

The Mōri Agency and this new place he just noticed were part of the same neighborhood, thus the two itineraries were quite similar. But while the first route he had figured still contained a few obstacles, this new one was entirely devoid of red dots.
There was a perfectly clear path between Intersection Beika 2-Chome and the Kudō Residence.


It couldn’t be.
Why?
He had to be wrong. He just had to.


He checked again and again, but there was no mistake. The path was clear. Way too clear.


It was a challenge. They were defying him to solve the case.
No, not him; Him.
Kudō Shinichi. His real identity.


They were defying the high school detective Kudō Shinichi, the Japanese “Heisei Holmes”, to stop them. Him, and nobody else.
But who were these guys? What did they want from him!?


These guys were psychopaths.

Someone had to stop them.

He had to stop them.


⚠ L'image en tête de chaque article est un pixel-art de ma part et chaque chapitre en aura un différent, mais il est à noter que les sprites utilisés sont inspirés de ceux de "London Life", un jeu Professeur Layton disponible dans le menu extra de PL4 (pour les versions japonaise et américaine seulement). Ainsi, les sprites des personnages de l'univers PL proviennent du jeu originel. De plus, dans le cas exceptionnel présent, certains sprites du fandom DC ont été repris (avec permission) de ceux précédemment créés par WanderingBoredom afin d'économiser du temps.
En revanche, certains "pixel-arts" contiendront effectivement des sprites que j'aurai entièrement scratchés.

⚠Warning: Due to the characters’ multiple origins, different languages will be spoken simultaneously in-universe. All of them will be written in English (aside from some potential puns or idiomatic expressions every once in a while, perhaps), but in order to easily keep track of which language is used at which moment, here is a visual code. The color of the text indicates which language it’s originally written/spoken in: black for English, red for Japanese, blue for French.

Ono-B6.8
Rue de l’Université (7^e), Paris (France)
May 12^th, 2013 — 11:17 AM
The sky rumbled again. Clouds were gathering and darkening, quickly forming a somber and downy dome over the city. Mere moments later, a thin layer of rain poured and ricocheted on the paving stones, emitting light and harmonious tones. Most passersby had seen the shower coming, thus they were for the most part already heading indoors as soon as they had heard the first warnings from the thunder; the others, who couldn’t find shelter soon enough, were now all waiting under the stores of random shops, bus stops, or any other place which could keep them dry.

Having taken cover under a florist’s pergola, two teenagers were waiting along with the others, staring at this threatening black angry vault. The first one was a young college student with red messy hair, nonchalantly wiping the raindrops away from his glasses. His friend, right by his side, yet again gave another concerned glance at the ever falling river. The ground was now buried underwater, while every single paved stone of the street was reflecting the sky. For fear of damaging the violin case she was holding, she squeezed it further against her chest, as her blue eyes seemed to stare at every single translucent drop hitting the ground.
A small squeal resounded between them both; a little dog with white short hair laid down on the dry portion of the street, dropping his disheartened head on his front legs and blowing a long sigh. For certain, as soon as they would get home, he would once again have to take a bath. He hated baths. Why would they always keep making him go through something as useless and wet as this. Seriously.


The young lady subtly shook her head in order to pull away some of the wet blonde hair that was now covering her face, but she reluctantly had to use her right hand to succeed. She carefully rolled up her other arm’s sleeve to perk a little glance at her watch: as she bit her lip in worry, she turned a shy look towards her friend.

“It seems like it won’t stop anytime soon, Raphaël…” she whispered in a soft, but anxious tone. “The rehearsal starts in less than ten minutes. We’re going to be late…”

The teenager in question put his glasses back on his nose and glared at the sky irritably. He frowned, but immediately sighed. As he kept his brown eyes staring at the clouds, he suddenly asked:

“How far is it yet?”
“Not much, we were almost there. Hardly two minutes… It’s too bad, isn’t it?”
“If we run, it should take less than a minute.”

She jumped a bit in surprise, turning towards him in a sudden; but he was smirking with that smile she knew all too well. She responded with a little nod. The actual storm was still pretty far away from their current location, and though it looked like it was headed towards them, it wouldn’t reach them this fast. They hopefully wouldn’t get too wet if they truly made it as fast as her friend thought, and even if they did— well, he had already made up his mind, and there was no changing him. In any case, this only was a rehearsal, not an actual concert; whatever happened, the blame could not be put on them, could it? The only hesitation left was because of her violin, but the case was probably watertight enough so she could allow running under such shower for at least a few minutes.
The young man seized her right wrist carefully but firmly, still with that same smirk of his.

“Marie, Fondue, are you ready?”

Following a signal that initially sounded more like a joke rather than a serious order, the little group suddenly dashed through the rain as if it were a mere game. Laughing obliviously as their steps echoed against the paved street, their incongruously blissful tones contrasted deeply with the surrounding showering orchestra.


However, the joke did not last.

A great light burst. The redhead first thought it was just another bolt, which would have just been much closer than the others; but as the accompanying thunder somehow didn’t follow, he understood that it definitely was something different. Given that he had already let go off his friend’s wrist in order to run faster, only her scream made him realize that something really was happening. He would have recognized her voice among thousands, and when he turned around, he effectively saw that the blonde girl was now harassed by three suspicious individuals. They seemed to drag her somewhere, and she obviously was doing her best to escape from their grasp.

While Fondue was barking as loud as he could, his handler dashed towards them to help her; but one of them, a tall brunet in a black suit, immediately targeted him instead, and before he could even fully realize it, the college student was already immobilized and stopped by the end of a gun stuck in his neck.
Although the agent seemed to use his weapon more as a means of intimidation rather than as its initial intended use, Raphaël was still frozen by terror, as he had apparently not noticed that the safety tip had not even been undone in the first place.

The last member of the mysterious group, a woman with dark hair, came closer to the young violinist and forced a handkerchief against her face; the chloroform that was probably imbibed in it took effect, and in a few seconds Marie lost her consciousness, immediately putting an end to her struggles. The agent who was detaining her took her in his arms, as the woman carefully picked up the violin’s case.
Losing his nerve, the redhead almost forgot the threat stuck in his neck. He quickly reasoned that, if he managed to be swift enough…

At the same time, the white dog tried to help his handler and started biting the mysterious man’s leg with rage, and successfully had the agent drop his guard when he cried in pain and released his grasp, if ever so slightly. A shot was launched from his gun, but given that the aim was completely off, it felt obvious that it was only intended to scare the little pet away. Fondue indeed yelped in fear and ran away immediately, but now Raphaël had finally obtained the opening he had needed.

Paris’ paved stones are locally known for being particularly slippery— even more so when the entire street was drowned under such shower. Seizing this chance to his advantage, Raphaël feigned slipping on one of them and used the smooth surface to let him quickly arch his back and escape from the agent’s grasp by hitting strongly his stomach, turn around to face his aggressor, and benefit from the residual kinetic energy to send his foot on the line of a swift and well-placed chassé—

The agent dodged it so fast, the Parisian hardly saw him move.

Still stunned by such incongruous skill from a person he had obviously underestimated, the teenager froze. The speed of his previous move, instead of letting its energy dissipate within the hit, consequently induced the paved stones’ ability against him and his short distraction was all that was needed for him to lose control over his other grounded foot, which slipped as well. Raphaël was sent flying in midair, and eventually landed painfully one meter away, the back of his head banging violently against a stone. Since the hit left him barely conscious, he was effectively powerless for long seconds.

The brunet agent came closer and helped him up, but also restrained him even more firmly; the young redhead, still dazed, couldn’t fully grasp his surroundings anymore, let alone struggle.


When the man in black turned towards the two other agents, he called them out on something— but Raphaël didn’t understand a word, though he reasoned that the sentence had sounded like a question. The woman’s voice echoed in return, and her response was probably some sort of order. The group was then dragged through a nearby alley, followed by a distressed little white dog.

What the hell are you doing? What do you want from us!?

The young boy wanted to yell all the questions (and possible French swears) that were passing through his head, but his foggy mind and unresponsive body prevented him from doing anything further than barely mumbling these words. His round glasses were hardly hanging on his face following the fight.
The man who was maintaining him looked particularly calm, almost sad. Upset. It was obvious that he did not want to harm anyone, so what was the meaning of all this mess?
And he was not even taking his battling skills into account. The very teenager who had been able countless times to easily outwit and deceive the entire police forces together was now stopped so effortlessly by just some random man with the reflexes of a freaking ninja who was not even trying to hurt him! Who the hell was that guy?!

“I’m sorry…”

Raphaël tried to mumble that he had no idea what he was saying, but a wide blinding light burst around them before he could utter a single word.

Fondue stopped suddenly and yelped, covering his eyes from what he believed to be a bolt which had fallen right in front of him— without making a single sound, however. A split second later, the alley was empty.
The little dog howled, not caring anymore about the cold shower ever falling on his short hair and trembling legs.
Who cared if he was soaking wet. His owner will not be there to give him a bath anymore.



⚠ L'image en tête de chaque article est un pixel-art de ma part et chaque chapitre en aura un différent, mais il est à noter que les sprites utilisés sont inspirés de ceux de "London Life", un jeu Professeur Layton disponible dans le menu extra de PL4 (pour les versions japonaise et américaine seulement). Ainsi, les sprites des personnages de l'univers PL proviennent du jeu originel. Dans le cas de cet article tous les personnages présents ont été intégralement scratchés de ma part, mais sachez que ce ne sera pas toujours le cas.

Oh, c-coffee? Ha, ha— thank you, but I’m… I think I’m fine for now. But— well, I do understand that you might need it yourself, though. So many testimonies to hear in such a short time, I— I admire your courage. I just hope you will believe us, because… well, j-just keep an open mind, alright? Your coffee will… probably help with that. At least I suppose it’s what allows you to keep your calm all the time, right?
Some things just have this ability to… let you forget all your worries. Tea is one example among many: it’s an absolute delight for anyone’s taste, it allows everyone to pause for any thoughts they wish to wonder about— Tea clears your mind, and always makes you feel all the more ready to face any difficulties you might encounter.

…

And then comes music. So light and heart-warming.
Music is timeless. Music lets you forget up to the mere existence of reality. It would let us forget up to the very reason why we are here.

… And the reasons why, perhaps, we shouldn’t have been here.

…

Ah, um, well— yes, sometimes I… do wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been there. But though we went through many dangers and despite the fact that I would probably have preferred avoiding this— I actually am glad that we did. Under retrospect, things would have gone much worse if it weren’t for our journey back there.

…

Oh, um— yes, sorry, of course. You want me to actually explain it, right. From the very beginning? I… will do my best.

Everything began on the day we received this letter.
Luke warned us about a mystery revolving around Inglewood, a little Irish village not too far from Dublin, where he has been living with his parents for a little more than two months.

Some inhabitants from this village had started to disappear mysteriously a few days earlier. You would first think about a simple kidnapping case, but the other piece of the puzzle he gave us… made us realize that the truth was far more intricate.

Luke had joined to his letter some pictures showing very peculiar equine creatures who, according to his sayings, had started to appear in the nearby forest around the same period of time. Due to some of the inhabitants’ legends and folklore, these creatures were the first suspects for the disappearances and some organized monster hunts had begun; but this would only increase the risk of one of these men to disappear themselves. Besides, Luke firmly claimed that he was positive of these ponies’ absolute innocence: the professor and I trusted him, and as it turned out— they really didn’t have anything to do with the actual case, besides being victims themselves of the same phenomenon.

That being said— though we did prepare our departure as soon as we could, we did not leave immediately. Part of it was because the ferry would only leave a few days later of course, but… Something else happened as well in London, just the night before we left.

Ono-B2.2β
Covent Garden, London (England)
March 4^th, 1964 — 09:42 PM
Janice Quatlane’s talent was just as impressive as the professor had told me. She had offered us to attend her concert a week earlier, so we could not just break our promise at the last moment; besides, I wouldn’t have missed a concert like this one for anything in the world! I have to admit— though I was already thinking about the case we had to solve, I was just happy and overjoyed over practically anything at this time. I was looking forward to finally reuniting with Luke, and I was also eager to solve puzzles with them like before. The professor had even promised that I would really accompany them and actively take part in the investigation, this time! I was… Why, yes, I was excited about this case. Ecstatic, even.
But this concert… should have been a first warning to me. I should have known that the case from three months ago was… not as singular as I wished.

There is so much we don’t know about this place.

There is so much we don’t understand.

Our world is dangerous.

When she was kidnapped under the entire audience’s presence, the panic that resulted was immediate. The professor ordered me to call the police, so I straightaway ran to the hall as fast as I could.
Back in the theatre, the commotion was suffocating. Some people claimed they had seen men in black outright abducting her, but this flash of light was so intense, it was hard to tell whether they really were wearing black, or even if they were there at all. Well, now we know for sure that there indeed were agents back there, but— we only learned about these facts on the next day.

On that night, I found the professor on the stage, intensely trying to make some sense out of this phenomenon; needless to say, all of his theories were deconstructed as soon as he was considering them. Even when the police arrived and the forensics ran tests on the scene, not a single hint could be found. No trapdoors. No traces of flare bombs. A perfect alibi for the technical crew responsible for the spotlights. Out of the two puzzles we had to solve on that night, none met a conclusion.
Despite the long hours of investigation, neither the intense light nor the fact that they had disappeared from the entire audience’s field of vision within less than a mere second could be explained: the flash of light seemed to have simply come out of nowhere, but this was impossible; the potential abductors would have found some way to not only escape from the stage on their own, but to also supposedly drag along with them a resilient victim, all of this within less than a second, without making a sound. This, too, seemed impossible.

The opera’s exits had been secured all along, obviously, but despite the police’s intense searching, neither Janice nor any potential suspects could be found. It seemed impossible at the time, but they were long gone by then.
We simply had no idea how far from us they already were…

Many attempts to find a rational solution to this miracle followed, always getting more extravagant than the last. None of them ever found the slightest ounce of relevance. Even an elaborated and meticulously premeditated escape, using the multiple ropes, their respective counterbalances and the numerous beams hidden behind the stage’s curtains in order to escape through the ceiling, eventually proved to be impracticable. The inspector was tearing his hair out each time the professor was proving his theories wrong.

One single word repeatedly showed up in their debates. “Impossible.”
And even the professor’s look seemed to tell that it was impossible.

…

Maybe because it was the answer we would have preferred keeping in mind.



⚠ L'image en tête de chaque article est un pixel-art de ma part et chaque chapitre en aura un différent, mais il est à noter que les sprites utilisés sont inspirés de ceux de "London Life", un jeu Professeur Layton disponible dans le menu extra de PL4 (pour les versions japonaise et américaine seulement). Ainsi, les sprites des personnages de l'univers PL proviennent du jeu originel. Ainsi, seules les deux premières silhouettes noires ont été réalisées de ma main pour l'instant, les autres ont simplement été éditées de sorte à rajouter ce "filtre noir."
En revanche, certains "pixel-arts" contiendront effectivement des sprites que j'aurai entièrement scratchés.