#Lore24 – Entry #291 – Sentinel City by Night #17 – Dealing with Delia

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Try to get a day’s sleep, and all hell comes crashing down around you.  I was stirred out of my slumber by several message alerts on my phone; it was barely after sunset.  Forcing the remnants of my slumber away, I looked at the messages, the first from Becky with a link to Delia’s latest article, and several from Sokolova demanding I contact her immediately.  Shit.

I checked my computer first, saw no further copies of Delia’s messages, my connection to her system still offline, so not an equipment problem.  Then I checked the article, and could my blood run colder, it would have.  “Shadow Government Controls Sentinel City!  Vampire Cult in the Lead!” the headline proclaimed.  She’d been busy since her last big piece, or someone else had fed her quite the healthy dose of intel.  The article started off talking about the murder at the Paragon, then spun some yarn about it being an escalation after Dollface had been taken down by the rest of the cult, targeting someone in retaliation.  Seemed a stretch.  Photos were something else, though, taken from far above; had she been in the ductwork?  She even caught me when I had been examining the scene with Walsh and Blumenthal. 

The really damning stuff came after, when she tied it into Sokolova’s operations.  Emmerson didn’t name names, not yet, but had started painting a picture of something akin to an organized crime operation, infiltrating the upper levels of city government, guided by the hand of the vampire cult’s leaders.  She proclaimed my involvement with the police to cover up evidence, mentioned how all it took was one word from a powerful member of this shadow government to get a SWAT team called on the killer after they had stepped on their toes while the police had done nothing to stop the killer beforehand, how some of the most powerful positions in the city were part of the cult.  She had photos of Sokolova’s building, the Light’s Hope Chapel, and Kyou’s arthouse, with promises to reveal more in her next article, to expose the corruption.

Fuck.

My phone rang.  It was Sokolova.  Beginning to think she had my place bugged, was watching me with how good she was at her timing.  Took my licks like a good soldier.  Her tongue may as well been a whip with how she lashed me with it.  Whatever I had planned tonight was on hold.  Emmerson had to be dealt with, and it had to be me that did it.  I had until sunrise. 

My brain was already working on how to repair the damage, but that all hinged on getting Emmerson out of the picture first.  I had my false sources still in play, perhaps; likely whoever had revealed I’d hacked her system had exposed those, too.  How had they known, though?  Another hacker?  Becky?  Someone else just as good?  No, gotta focus on the main job first.

I threw some messages out through my false sources, trying to get her attention.  Also added another six random emails to the mix, but one of the new ones had some juicy bits tied to it.  My neck was already on the chopping block; might as well go all in.  Named myself in that one, told her I was working for the head of the ‘cult’ and that I was actually related by blood to the Dollface killer; not a lie, that.  Gave her a few more details that should entice her into a meeting.  Gave her a time limit, too; if I didn’t have an answer from her by midnight, I was gone with all my information. 

Took about an hour, but she responded to that one.  We sent some messages back and forth, I gave her a few more details to sweeten the pot, told her I had a whole dossier ready to hand over that would give her all the juicy bits.  She was playing it more cautiously, so she must’ve had some inkling of what it was she was getting involved in.  I suggested a dead drop in a public place; I wouldn’t reveal myself but would stick around to make sure she picked up the package before I left town, otherwise I’d take it with me.  She agreed; I’d make it work; sent her the details and a time. 

Picked a place that was public, but not too public for my needs.  All I had to do was meet her eyes.  Picked a steakhouse down by one of the shopping malls, plenty of people around to dissuade any foul play.  Got the package ready, just a bunch of old junk articles and notes I had stuffed here and there from twenty years back, some random bad photos that hadn’t turned out, that kind of thing.  Nothing anyone could get anything out of.  I got there on the double, dropped it behind one of the toilets in the women’s restroom after I’d slipped inside.  Set myself up near the back and waited.

She was there on time, looked a little paranoid.  Probably would have made a good ally if she hadn’t stepped on the wrong side of the line.  Watched her pass by my hiding place near the restrooms; she passed within a couple feet of me and never had a clue.  She went inside, I followed.  I let her pick up the package, then when she turned I was there.  Her eyes widened.  I tapped into that swirling madness that we Malkavians loved so much, and I dumped all I could into her poor mortal brain, stoked the embers of what was already hiding in her subconscious. 

Then I was gone.

Delia started screaming before I slipped out the back.  Would make for one hell of a story:  “Up and Coming Reporter Goes Crazy in Family Steakhouse!”.  My next stop was her apartment to scrub her records and add to the story, mess her place up to match the lunatic behavior she had just started to experience.  Would probably need to visit her office as well, make sure she didn’t have anything left behind there.  Would fill Sokolova in on the details when I was done, let her handle how the story would develop from the foundations I’d set up; she seemed the type to have friendly media on hand.”

#Lore24 – Entry #290 – Sentinel City by Night #16 – Knocking on the Chantry Door

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Wound up taking three nights, but I was finally allowed a visit to the Tremere chantry.  By then, the aura in the vial had faded somewhat, but it was still visible, so maybe it wasn’t too late to glean something useful from them.  Their place was very much what I’d expected it to be, fancy gothic-style manor in the neighborhood reserved for the rich, old-money types, surrounded by a big fence and plenty of magical auras I wasn’t even about to try and decipher.  Just passing through the gates was enough to make my skin crawl.  Fun fact: after I’d announced myself on their intercom, the gates opened on their own, but not with any kind of mechanical device. 

Of course, I didn’t get a full tour of the place.  Once I was inside the front entryway, got to see the grand stairway leading to the upper levels, and several closed doors lining the entry hall; shadows were deep here, deeper than even my heightened perceptions could penetrate, even though there were plenty of candles glowing with arcane, purple flames to light the way.  A moment later, one of the side doors opened, and a teenager wearing all black, a t-shirt and jeans, combat boots, and a smattering of your typical goth girl accessories, ushered me toward her.  Sitting room was fancy, fireplace was glowing with what looked like a normal fire even if there wasn’t any heat coming off it, though the room was pleasantly warm regardless. 

Another Tremere waited for me, this one dressed like some kind of cowgirl, could have just stepped out of the old West at that moment and I probably would’ve believed it.  She introduced herself in what sounded like another Texas drawl as Abigail Dawson, and her companion as her apprentice, Elizabeth Powell.  At least they were being courteous for all their secrecy, so I introduced myself in kind.  Knowing they weren’t likely interested in chitchat, I got right down to business, gave them quick rundown of the situation and passed them the vial.

Though they hid it well, I could tell they were intrigued.  They excused themselves to the connecting room, told me to make myself comfortable but not to wander.  Could’ve at least left me a magazine or something else to read.  Took about an hour before they came back, about half the contents of the vial missing, the magical aura gone.  Both of them had a look on their faces like they’d just discovered dog shit on their shoes after they’d already tracked it through the house.

The sorcery in the vial stank of the Tzimisce, they said, likely a modification of a type of blood ritual they often used to frenzy their ghouls when they went to war.  The rest they said was a mixture of various mundane chemicals and ingredients, common in street drugs, the exact nature they’d leave to me now that the sorcery had been removed.  My first instinct was that my suspicions of Misha Kyle were correct all along, but Abigail said it was unlikely; their people were keeping a close eye on Kyle and had not noted any strange behavior out of her.

Elizabeth then told me that our time was up, and the rest of the mess was mine to sort out, but if more sorcery was discovered, to let them know.  Then a curious thing happened; the two shared a look, Abigail nodded at her childe, and then the apprentice told me that shadows loomed around Sentinel City, so the head of the chantry had divined, and trouble was coming.  Couldn’t get more specifics out of them, guess they’d loose their mysterious reputation if they made it that easy.  Either way, thanked them for their time and left the chantry on the quick, my mind working on the situation as I drove toward Blumenthal’s precinct.  Dropped off the remnants of the vial, let him know that I had a vague lead, but would need more time to track it down.  Told him it was probably some kind of new street drug from what I’d been told, and to get the word out to his people to be on the lookout for more of it, and that I’d be in touch.  Said he’d let me know what the lab techs found out about it.

Got an unwelcome surprise when I got back to my apartment.  My backdoor to Emmerson’s computer had been removed, and I was no longer getting copies of her communications.  Could’ve been an equipment failure, maybe, but my gut told me otherwise.  Someone had found me out.”

#Lore24 – Entry #289 – Sentinel City by Night #15 – I Want a New Drug

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“At least my time in Sentinel City hasn’t been boring.  Barely a week and a half gone since Dollface was whisked away by Conway’s team to wherever they took her and I’ve already got another “official” case.  Since the last one, I’d learned Conway was actually Sokolova’s childe, so it wasn’t really a surprise when I got the call from the Prince regarding SCPD needing a consult at a murder scene.  Walsh would be waiting for me.

Really hope I’ll get some cases that don’t involve grisly murders one of these nights.  Still, work’s work.

Old Taurus is running like a dream now; hasn’t driven this good in years.  Probably should keep it on a regular maintenance schedule…

Anyway, found the scene pretty easy, nightclub called Paragon on the north end of town, plenty of badges blocking off the scene.  Spotted Emmerson’s car a couple blocks away on my way in, but didn’t see her skulking around outside when I got there.  Could smell the blood in the air soon as I was shown inside by the uniforms on guard; it was thick.  Walsh met me outside the main dance floor where the killings happened, introduced me to the detective in charge on this one from the local precinct, one Grover Blumenthal.  He was on the young side, put me more in the mind of an accountant by the look of him, but at least he wasn’t outright hostile to me coming in on the case.  Guess he hadn’t had time to get jaded, cynical, and territorial yet.  He was also “in the know” as far as my reasons for being there.

The CSIs were hard at work on the dance floor and a few dozen witnesses were being interviewed in another room off to the side.  Dance floor was a bloody mess; doubt a bomb could’ve done it much better.  Just a quick look told me there were at least four victims here based on the number of left hands I counted.  Took a moment to steady myself as I took it all in; all that blood stirred the Beast, made me hungry.  Guess it had been a couple nights since I’d had a proper meal. 

Looked almost like an animal attack; shredded flesh, limbs ripped off, chewed on, blood splattered everywhere.  Several people had been taken to the hospital who had survived the assault.  Suspects escaped, bloody footprints headed toward the emergency exit, disappeared into the night once they hit the wet alley and the steady rain that had been falling since yesterday.  The absolute brutality was impressive; didn’t figure regular humans could pull off something like this without a weapon of some kind.  Ghouls could, perhaps, given enough time to season; a Fiend’s war ghouls could definitely do something like this, but they’d have spooked the crowd before they got too close.  Lupines could also make a scene like this, but they tended to avoid known vampire cities unless they were looking to stir up trouble.  As I asked about witness descriptions of the incident, Blumenthal read off some of his notes; these were young men, sounded like regulars on the club scene, known to spread around recreational drugs when they came out to party; then they freaked out and started tearing people apart.  Descriptions weren’t tracking with a lupine attack; I’m no expert in their ways, but I do know they have a way of fogging mortal memories when they change into their wolf forms.  Handy that.

Wasn’t about to touch these bodies with my second sight.  Level of violence and the horrific deaths they’d suffered meant several sleepless days for me if I did.  Did take some time to look over the scene with my aura perception, though, and it paid off.  Hidden in one of the meat piles was a very faint magical aura.  Went for a look, saw a little red vial mixed in with the gore.  Pulled the detectives over and let the humans catalog the evidence as they would before I had my closer look.  Stuff looked like blood, but it was too bright, too red, almost glowing.  Vial was the kind that slipped into some kind of injector device, which hadn’t been found yet. 

Given the aura on this stuff, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.  Assumed it was some kind of drug, maybe, but I wasn’t about to shoot up with it to find out.  Blumenthal seemed a little more intent on watching me than the scene, and when I asked him about it, he seemed a little embarrassed, said it was the first time he’d ever worked with one of my kind, quickly corrected and said he’d meant a PI.  Smooth cover.  Maybe the kid had potential. 

Speaking quietly so as not to be overhead by anyone who wasn’t clued in on me, I let them know that I’d sensed something supernatural about the vial, the kind of thing that really didn’t need to get out.  Knew somewhere I could get it analyzed, if they’d see me, and figured it was probably the best lead for me to take while they handled the cleanup detail.  Not getting any arguments, I tucked the vial in a Ziploc and then into my coat.  I’d have to go through the proper procedures, might take a couple nights, but it looked like I’d be visiting the Tremere chantry.  That was sure to be an experience.”

#Lore24 – Entry #288 – Sentinel City by Night #14 – Meeting in Elysium

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Few nights later, I finally took Kyou’s offer to meet him in person.  Didn’t know he was a he till I’d met him, not that I could really tell much of a difference even then; looked and sounded just as feminine as any woman.  Don’t usually feel attracted to most people but think I might’ve felt something stirring when I finally met him.  Must have been that Toreador thing they do. 

Turns out, he’s the Elysium keeper in Sentinel City, and a rather famous, if elusive, fetish artist who does a good amount of work with “classy” kink photos and videos, most of it involving living people in various themed shoots and whatever other strangeness that kind of thing entails.  The kink scene isn’t my thing.  Outfits might be sexy sometimes, but I’ve got other things to do with my nights.

When I showed up at the arthouse that was one of the Elysium locations in town, he was in the midst of preparations for a big party.  Must have been a couple dozen humans and ghouls around, all of them in various kinky outfits and states of restraint, forming different living scenes.  Apparently, this was just the practice session before the big thing.  Modern art.  Pfft.

Kyou was very thankful that I’d helped in finding Kinzie, who was surprisingly absent, but Kyou assured me he was “quite secure” and nearby.  Didn’t ask anything else on the matter.  Still, even with my lack of interest in the things going on around me, I found it hard not to enjoy Kyou’s company.  He had a way of being absolutely charming, seemed to know exactly how to make you feel like it was something special just to be around him.  We chatted for a while, shared a little of his “special” vintage wine.  He owed me a huge favor he said.  Never a bad thing to have in this kind of society.  He invited me to his big event, but I didn’t commit to anything; might be good to network a little, but I’ve never been one for social gatherings.

I had more work to do, anyway, so I couldn’t spend too much time with him.  Car was finally in the shop, so I was on foot or relying on public transport for a few nights.  Figured I would be looking in on Emmerson more tonight.  Think our unexpectedly quick capture of Dollface threw a wrench into the narrative she’d been crafting.  Her latest article covering the takedown sounded almost spiteful, hinted at there being a larger cult at work, to expect more killings in the same manner; I’d seen where she’d originally wanted to go with her tale, and was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen.  Her mystery source had continued feeding her information about the Kindred, however, and she was shifting her focus.  The fake information I’d been feeding her had muddied the waters, so she wasn’t entirely sure who to believe now. 

That source was proving elusive.  I couldn’t verify any real details about whoever it was; what information I could pull from the email headers was different each time, no doubt using a VPN and other methods to hide their locations.  Couldn’t exactly subpoena the email provider’s records, either, given the sensitivity of the information they were peddling.

I’ll just have to keep an eye on the situation and work it as things develop.  Maybe I can convince Emmerson to cut ties with the source and drop her whole investigation.  Could be pretty simple if I’d ever managed to learn how to control minds, but that just wasn’t in my blood.  Still, got an option to use on her if it comes to it; don’t usually rely on that, but if she pushes things too far, well…”

#Lore24 – Entry #287 – Sentinel City by Night #13 – Rapid Response

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Thankfully whatever noise I might’ve made once I was inside the warehouse was covered by the girl’s screams.  For me, not for her.  I was moving fast, but as long as the screams and whimpers and pleading kept coming, that meant I didn’t have to worry about the killer noticing me.  Spotted the van we’d seen on the security footage, doors were still open; guess the killer had been too anxious to get to her work.  Took a minute to pop the hood, pulled the wires off the battery; if she tried to run, she’d have to work for it.

Started my way upstairs toward the torture room.  I tried to hurry without moving too fast; delicate thing.  Just to be sure, I double-checked that I’d silence my phone.  Would’ve been pretty embarrassing to be caught by something like that.  Didn’t take me long to get where I needed to go, smell of blood was getting thicker.  Door wasn’t locked, but I eased it open slow, after I’d hit the hinges with some spray lube I kept in my coat pocket for just these kinds of occasions. 

If this lady wasn’t a Malk, she could’ve definitely passed for one of our nuttier brethren.  First thing I saw when I peered in was the trophy rack; saw all the peeled faces of the previous victims staring at me from across the room.  Crazy bitch hadn’t just preserved their heads, but had gone full on Leatherface, made masks out of them.  Guess she’d used the additional flesh she’d taken as extra material.  She wore the Sidney Clark mask now as she paced slowly around Carly Greer, who was secured to a tilted surgical table, scalpel in each hand, making slow, deliberate cuts, seeming to pause to savor the sounds the poor girl made, then to lap at the blood that was coming out of her. 

The name “Dollface” popped into my brain at that moment.  Strange what comes to mind in situations like these.

Kinzie wasn’t far off, on his knees with his wrists and ankles chained behind a support beam, big gag ball in his mouth as he watched with a look of absolute horror on his face.  I would’ve thought him another young woman if I hadn’t known what he looked like before hand from his master’s description. 

Thought for a second there about playing hero, but I didn’t know what this vamp was capable of.  For all I knew, she was as dangerous as one of those Brujah you always hear about that can tear up a whole city block with one hand tied behind their backs.  I eased the door open a little wider, carefully, took a quick gander around the room.  Wasn’t huge, might’ve been the offices back when this place was open for business.  Some side rooms, couldn’t see much about those from here; pretty sure there was another set up stairs leading down on the other side somewhere, though, possible escape route.  Windows were blacked out or boarded up, aside from two that were raised to let in some air and what little moonlight there was, right behind Dollface’s torture rack.

Figured that SWAT team might stand a better chance than me if they could get the drop on her.  Dollface wasn’t going to kill the girl just yet anyway; sucks for her, but not a chance I could risk taking.  I skulked back and eased the door shut, then got off the upper level before I started hammering at my phone, sending what I’d seen to Walsh.  Time like this, maybe having a smart phone would have been better, or maybe if I knew how some Kindred moved so damn fast.  Still, managed to spit out what I had to tell him eventually.  SWAT was already inbound and he was talking to them.  Said one of my kind was with them, and to just stay out of their way.

By the time I got outside, I saw the SWAT van pulling up down the way, outside the fence where Walsh had parked.  Didn’t look like a standard SWAT unit to me, not enough of them, only seven of them, but I could tell they were dangerous.  Hit them with my aura sight as I approached.  One vampire, the one with the big rifle, and the rest were ghouls.  They covered the rest of the ground on foot after a quick word with Walsh, the sniper breaking off to the adjacent building, the others breaking up into two squads of three as they entered the warehouse. 

From the screams, Dollface hadn’t realized they were there yet.

Guessed these guys were military-trained by the way they handled themselves.  I asked Walsh about them while we waited, made him nearly jump out of his skin when I revealed myself.  Bad habit, I know.  Least I didn’t get shot for it.  Said he didn’t know much about them aside from all of them were veterans, though he wasn’t sure about the sniper.  Conway was her name, said she came in with Sokolova’s people, started hanging out with the SWAT team after the mayor and police chief worked out whatever “fucked up arrangement led to me working with you.”

Didn’t take long.  Couldn’t have been five minutes since I’d passed the SWAT team before that big rifle let loose.  One shot.  Some shouts from inside, then silence.  These guys were very good.  All clear came in over Walsh’s radio a minute later; they’d taken Dollface intact, victims secure.  EMTs were there in a flash, taking care of Carly and Kinzie, and were gone just as quick. 

SWAT bagged up Dollface to go, had her staked out, one gnarly head wound marring the Sidney mask.  Conway met up with them, finally got a look at her without her helmet and mask.  Pale, platinum hair cut short, had an intensity about her, the kind that comes with a lot of combat.  Shared a smoke with her men, figured they were her ghouls by how comfortable they were around her.  We didn’t speak much, but she said she’d be in contact with Sokolova shortly with a full report, and that she’d let Kyou know his ghoul was safe.  Said I did good for my first job, glad to see that I was a team player. 

I stuck around long enough to gather what other details I could for the sake of completing my case notes, but since I wasn’t there in any official capacity, I made myself scarce.  I let Walsh and his team handle cleaning up the scene and left any glory that might come from it to them.  I worked better in the shadows, after all.  For a wonder Emmerson didn’t show up on the scene till I was already on my way out, along with the rest of the media types.  Guess even her sources weren’t able to keep up with how quickly we’d moved tonight.  Would definitely be looking into that before long.”

#Lore24 – Entry #286 – Sentinel City by Night #12 – Rapid Escalation

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Things got real interesting real fast tonight. Was at the PD with Walsh, going over the security footage they’d gotten earlier that day.  Spotted a panel van, abductor’s vehicle of choice, leaving the scene, but couldn’t get a read on the plates.  His people were trying to track it but had lost it when it had passed through Chinatown heading east; seemed like the people there weren’t too fond of cooperation.  Better than nothing, though.  Could be hiding there; none of the bodies had been found too close to the district, but I suspected there were other reasons for that, though I hadn’t taken a drive through there myself just yet.

Before I could consider possible hiding places, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize.  The lady on the other end was frantic when I answered.  Once I got her to slow down, she introduced herself as Kyou, one of the local Kindred.  Name rang a bell, think I’d heard it regarding one the Elysium locations in town.  Anyway, she was all in a huff because her prized ghoul, Kinzie, had gone missing earlier this evening.  The way she described him, he was the most beautiful thing walking, so I guess that qualified him for attention from our killer.  Hadn’t expected her to grab another one so soon; guess this Kinzie just hit all the right buttons and she couldn’t stop herself.  Might not be related, but my gut said otherwise.

Thankfully, we caught a break; Kyou had a nanny app installed on Kinzie’s phone and had an exact location of where he had been just before the phone had been turned off an hour or so ago.  Worked for me.  Took a ride with Walsh on this one, was a lot quicker getting through town when you’ve got the flashing lights and siren on your car.  Crap, forgot to call the mechanic again.  Maybe tomorrow night.  Noted.

Place was a high-end sex shop, dealt in real fancy gear for really rich kinksters.  Didn’t take long to track Kinzie’s movements; he was a regular, always picking up something or other for Kyou.  Kyou was an artsy type, dealt in fetish photography and living art.  Should’ve guessed she was a Toreador from the way she got all dreamy describing Kinzie to me, even in the midst of her panic.  Whatever.  We found Kinzie’s car in the garage next door, still locked up tight, keys laying on the ground next to the trunk. 

We hit the security office next, pulled the camera footage.  Same panel van came up behind Kinzie as he loaded up the night’s purchases.  Driver spoke to him, and he got right in the van without a fuss.  Classic vampire domination.  Makes it real easy to get your victims from one place to another.  Couldn’t get a good look at the driver, but we had the plates, and Walsh got on it immediately.  There were plenty of cameras in this part of town, traffic and otherwise, but that would take time to sort through them all. 

I made a call to Becky while Walsh was pulling info on the plates.  Won’t go into specifics, but I owe her a favor now; she seemed pretty pleased by this.  Bound to happen sooner or later; it’s just how her kind are.  By the time Walsh had determined the plates were stolen from a sports car that had turned up chopped a few weeks back, Becky was sending me texts with the direction the van had gone.  Walsh and I hit the trail hard and fast, headed eastward. 

Few miles later, we pulled into a dilapidated section of warehouses near the docks, the most likely place our target would have gone given the last hit Becky had sent us, an ATM camera at a liquor store a few blocks from the docks.  Could have been plenty other places for them to hide, but between the gang bangers, druggies, and other types the typically hung out in places like this, a serial killer would very likely go unnoticed.  Didn’t miss the fact that Walsh loosened the catch on his gun in its holster as we started into the area.  Decided to check my piece too.

Kept the windows cracked as we patrolled around.  I focused on what I could hear over the engine.  Got lucky after a little while, heard some screams that sure sounded to me like someone was getting tortured.  We headed in that direction, keeping the lights off as I guided us closer.  Came up to a particular warehouse that seemed a little nicer than the others around it, even had fresh padlocks on the fencing outside.  I stopped Walsh here, told him I’d go in alone to scout the place alone.  He didn’t like it, but then he figured I might be a lot quieter than him.  He said he’d get word back to the PD to get the SWAT team on standby just in case.  Seemed prudent.  I shot off a quick text to Sokolova to fill her in on what was going on. 

Then I stepped into the night, quickly picked the lock on the fence, and headed into the darkness, towards the screams.”

#Lore24 – Entry #285 – Sentinel City by Night #11 – Frustrating Developments

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Got called into the boss’s office tonight to give an update on the investigation.  Didn’t plan on doing a presentation tonight, pretty sure she wasn’t too pleased with my lack of organization.  My mind works as it does; I have my own system.  Whatever.  She got the info she wanted, seemed happy enough, maybe, once I’d detailed what I’d come up with regarding the killer’s actions and motives. 

Also clued her in on my plan regarding Delia Emmerson.  Showed her copies of the emails the reporter had received thus far and showed her the pushback against her article that had already started as well as some of the false trails I’d started feeding her.  Sokolova seemed pleased with my initiative on the matter, both in trying to keep Emmerson alive while tracing down her source.  Did give me a not-so-subtle warning to prioritize the killer, but to likewise make sure Emmerson didn’t get out of hand.  A little help from her wouldn’t have been amiss, but then again, don’t know her people well enough to really trust them to do the work to my satisfaction.

Whatever.  Just means I’ll not have much in the way of free time for the foreseeable future.  Not that I’d really be doing much else anyway.  What’s a PI without a case to work on?  One this mess was done, I’d start putting out the word I was for hire, start getting a more steady flow of work.  At least Sokolova offered me some compensation for my expenses so far.  Nice of her.

Found a voicemail from Walsh after the meeting that we had another victim go missing last night that seemed to fit the criteria for our mystery killer, another woman named Carly Greer.  I rushed straight from the meeting to meet Walsh at the victim’s apartment, shared by another trio of college kids.  Brakes are starting to squeal on the car now.  Forgot to check on the mechanic.  Better not wait too much longer.  Noted.

Spoke to the roommates; they’d all grabbed some fast food and went to the movies, she’d gone to the bathroom, never came back.  No answer on her cell phone; Walsh had already got the paperwork going for a trace.  I got the address and headed that way while he called his guys on scene to be expecting me.  Surprised me when he handed me a card for a garage and a guy he knew who worked nights.  Guess I’m growing on him.  Imagine that.

Cameras at the movies were a bust, didn’t even have any except those at the concession stand and out front at the ticket office; was one of those places that was older than me, tended to show the classics.  Workers hadn’t paid attention, or at least, didn’t remember seeing her when she came out.  Restrooms were in the middle of the building, behind the concession stands, with doors to access them on either side for each of the two theatres.  Watched one of the workers wheeling out some garbage using one of the emergency exits; turns out that one wasn’t alarmed, led straight out to the alley out back. 

Did my thing with the door this time, got an impression of the victim touching it for just a moment, and someone else.  That someone else made me shiver, however brief the impression was.  Definitely Kindred, shadowy, vague, a ghost in the night.  Like me.  Can’t confirm it with what I managed to get, too many people had touched the door, but suspecting she might even be another Malkavian.  Got just a flash of her from her point of view, think she might’ve been wearing a mask. 

Had to hit the pavement around the theatre, saw several security cameras that might have something useful, but the places were closed and I couldn’t break in with the PD right there, not that I’d want to with the number of cameras around, anyway.  Can’t hide from those, not easily.  Gave the list to the officers on scene for Walsh’s people to deal with getting the footage. 

We had no more than three nights to find Carly Greer intact by my estimates.   Killer kept them alive, probably fed on them, maybe enjoyed the taste of their suffering in the blood.  Speaking of blood, better find a lick myself; starting to feel antsy.”

#Lore24 – Entry #284 – Sentinel City by Night #10 – The Fleshcrafter

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“As I would shortly discover, my revelation that there was a Tzimisce in town wasn’t nearly as surprising as I’d originally thought.  I daresay I might’ve been the only one of my (admittedly limited) circle that didn’t know about her.  Should probably socialize more.  Noted.

Her name is Misha Kyle, works as a “plastic surgeon” in her own upscale business downtown, “Lovely Longevity Limited”, real posh clientele; reckon she’s done work on quite a few famous types, though she mostly deals in humans over Kindred.  She’s got a team that handles the little things while she works the real special jobs like my last victim, where there’s some major rearrangement to be done.  Definitely not your typical Fiend, that’s for damn sure.  Apparently, Sokolova approves of her being here, though she’s not a regular at the community meetings.

I setup a meeting with her to discuss the situation regarding Sidney Clark, and she didn’t even try to wiggle out of it, sounded almost saddened by what happened if I read her right over the phone.  Still, maybe she’s just that good a liar; can’t trust a Fiend, right?  That’s the case on the ones I’ve known over my admittedly short unlife, anyway. 

Kyle wasn’t what I was expecting; she looked normal, for one, her beauty seemingly all natural, even acted like a normal person.  None of that alien-looking bullshit with her.  She didn’t hesitate to fill me in on her backstory; got the impression she’d done it so many times it was second nature when meeting a new Kindred.  Sounded solid, didn’t feel like she was feeding me lies.  Reckon she was involved in that mess down in Atlanta back in ’99, one of the Sabbat shovelheads that survived the whole affair and managed to keep her sanity intact somehow, eventually broke free during the chaos that happened all over the place twenty years back.  Been clawing her way back to some semblance of her humanity since, and says she’s dedicated her abilities to helping those who want it, and those who really needed it at a greatly reduced cost.

Sidney Clark was one of the latter cases.  Girl was driving herself crazy between all the bullshit she’d been fed online and in school and the mental state that had come of it.  Reckon she’d had a come-to-Jesus moment and sought help afterward, and was on the way to a full recovery.  She’d been working with a local shrink on improving her self-image, chief head doctor over at the Edgewater Mental Hospital, Jennifer Tempest, and once she had progressed far enough, Misha was brought in to help with getting her physical appearance to match her evolving mental image.  Seems a real humanitarian but call me skeptical.  I’ve heard things about that flesh-warping magic, can’t confirm it, but rumor is it warps minds too, which is why the Fiends are the way they are.  Course, Kyle seems to be an exception.  Suppose anything’s possible.  Reckon she even attends church on the regular, the one ran by that Malkavian preacher I’ve started hearing about.  Not sure that’s a positive or a negative, honestly; haven’t had time to stop by and introduce myself.

Whatever the case, my initial theory that she was somehow involved in the deaths seems to have been shot down.  Couldn’t detect that she was being dishonest, even her aura seemed genuine, though those dark streaks were concerning, even if they were faded, so if she had sucked a vamp dry, it’s been a while.  If she went through that shit in Atlanta, then maybe she couldn’t exactly prevent it.  Whatever; I’ll keep my eye on her, but I’m willing to give her a chance.  Either way, didn’t learn anything useful about the case.  Won’t say it was wasted time, but I might lean that way. 

Till I can find out more about the killer, I’ll busy myself tracking Emmerson’s source.”

#Lore24 – Entry #283 – Sentinel City by Night #9 – Another Victim, Another Clue

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“It was a handful of nights later, after I’d hired a Chinese botnet to start the blowback campaign against Emmerson’s article and begun contacting her myself in the guise of a trio of new sources that were emboldened to tell their tales after reading her article to start the feed of misinformation that I got word that another body had been found with the same MO.  As soon as I got Walsh’s call, I rushed to meet PD at the scene, pushing my Taurus as hard as it could stand; not sure what that grinding sound is, or the wobble when I get up to speed.  Really have to get a mechanic to take a look at that; should probably ask Becky if she knows a good one that works late hours and won’t charge an arm and a leg. 

Think Walsh is starting to warm up to me, or he was just too tired to fire up the hatred tonight.  He looked strung out.  Anyway, this was another dump near the Red Light District.  It had occurred to me that with the many waterways in the city, and its proximity to the Great Lakes, there were plenty of better spots to dump a body.  That could indicate that maybe some part of the killer’s psyche was crying out to be stopped, or that the body disposal was simply an afterthought.

Either way, everything tracked with this being another victim and not a copycat, in spite of Emmerson’s article.  This victim, Sidney Clark, hadn’t been reported missing, however, and this was definitely sooner than the previously established timeline had indicated.  The killer was escalating, though I couldn’t say it had anything to do with the article or not; the timing didn’t seem to track.  As I examined the body, Emmerson showed up and had another confrontation with Walsh, this one rather heated.  She kept trying to draw me into the matter, but I ignored her attempts to speak to me.  I had plenty of lines of communication open with her already, didn’t need a face to face.

It was when I examined the victim’s ID to see where they lived that I made a most curious observation.  Though I couldn’t know what her face had looked like before it was removed, her ID showed a woman who was not up to standards for the killer’s appetites.  She looked to have been severely overweight, the deep scowl on her plump, pitted face only marginally distracted from by her bright green and red hair dye and side-shaved cut.  The body couldn’t have been even half the weight listed, even before the pieces were removed.  The ID was barely more than a year and a half old based on the date on it.  Did we have the wrong ID?  Was there perhaps another victim with whom the IDs had been switched?

I knew what I had to do, however much I disliked using that particular ability on a corpse.  Call me old-fashioned, but using my heightened perception to read the psychic echoes on a dead body seemed a bit too invasive, not to mention that it always left my skin crawling for days, even gave me daymares.  Might have been a little selfish of me, but it’s why I hadn’t done so before and had kept to the evidence and proper investigatory techniques till now.  Still, things had escalated to the point that I suppose I had little choice but to give it a try.

I waited for Walsh to shoo Emmerson off before I showed him the discrepancy between the ID and body, then told him that I needed a few minutes alone with the victim.  When he asked what I had planned, I simply told him it was better if he didn’t know the particulars.  Though skeptical, he obliged and pulled his people back.  Once I had readied myself, I removed my gloves and touched the body, peering into its past.

I saw flashes of the victim’s last moments, felt the echoes of the violence she had suffered, saw only a brief impression of the killer themselves, a cold, doll-like face smeared with blood, fangs gleaming as they wielded the scalpel.  Then a much clearer image emerged, one that wasn’t nearly as horrible, though perhaps even more confusing.  I clearly saw a red-headed woman, kind and energetic, showing the victim a computer-generated image of another beautiful woman, a sense of elation and happiness, contentment.  Then there was a sensation of awakening from a deep slumber, of peering into a mirror, the victim seeing the image of the woman that had been on the screen.  As I pulled myself out of the psychic vision, stumbling back as the connection was broken, I realized what it was I had witnessed, why the victim’s ID didn’t match her current appearance.

The red-headed woman had flesh-crafted her!  The red-head was a Tzimisce!”

#Lore24 – Entry #282 – Sentinel City by Night #8 – The Fine Art of Discreditation

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“It was easy enough to find Emmerson’s apartment; she didn’t seem to be worried about being followed, not that she would have noticed me anyway.  I lingered outside for some time after she had returned, waited until she had bedded down for the night before I slipped in and had a look around.  Security on her computer was easy to crack, simple logon screen bypass trick I’ve used hundreds of times. 

My hunch had been a good one.  The story that got printed was the watered-down version of the original she’d written which had included some very specific details about a particular vampiric bloodline that must consume flesh instead of blood.  I had dismissed that possibility early on as unlikely, though seeing the notes Emmerson had on the matter made me reconsider the possibility that a rare Nagaraja had come to town, but only briefly.  From what I knew of them, they did ritualistically preserve corpses to maintain a ready food supply, but they wouldn’t keep so little of the flesh and discard the vast majority of it; why waste perfectly good food, after all? 

Diving further into her files revealed that she had been communicating with an unknown contact who had provided that information to her.  I noted the email address, but it was likely a burner account, given the random nature of the username.  Still, the contact with the mysterious source had began sometime after the second victim, and their information had only grown more concise and revealing as further emails had come in.  There were promises of more information to come regarding the “vampiric conspiracy” to rule the city, with mention of an entire council of vampires already being established. 

Without checking Emmerson’s office system for more data, which seemed unlikely, I couldn’t be sure if she might’ve known more already or not.  My instincts told me to just get rid of her now and be done with it, but Sokolova’s command to save killing her as a last resort still stood.  I’d need to track her source down, too, and that would take more time.  So, I resolved to take a different tactic with her.  After I had setup some backdoor access to her system and returned everything to the state I’d found it, I departed with the snoring human completely unaware of my presence, already planning how I’d go about discrediting her work and ruining her reputation.  Not the first time I’d had to do this kind of thing; I’d developed something of a talent for it over the last twenty years.”